Dawn of Eve, MJ Howson [lightweight ebook reader TXT] 📗

and nodded. He tried to remain calm, but he felt like he and Dawn were going in endless circles. Something was missing. He grabbed a pen and scribbled, Not postpartum?

“Jacob’s important to you,” Dr. Cole said. “And you want Jacob to be a steady force in your life.” He smiled supportively when Dawn nodded in agreement. “And your childhood–” Dr. Cole’s cellphone began buzzing in his drawer. The buzz set off a reverberation through the entire desk, causing the wooden Trust plaque to resonate. “My apologies.”

Dr. Cole opened the drawer and glanced at a red-cased phone. The shattered lock screen showed a new notification. The time–11:49 a.m.–indicated their session was almost over. He slid the phone into his pocket.

“I had a good life, Dr. Cole. I saw my parents at night and on the weekends. Usually. Was my life that different from any other kid with working parents?”

“Most children don’t have a nanny, a butler, and multiple homes.”

“True.” Dawn managed a smile and brief laugh. “Okay, so I was privileged.” She slowly lowered her head, her eyes glazing over. Dawn sighed and added, “I loved my mother. My mother protected me. She was my . . . hero.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Dr. Cole smiled and said, “Before our next session, I’d like you to think of two or three really strong memories you have of your mother from your early childhood.”

“Like what?”

“Special moments. Perhaps a birthday or holiday.”

“A birthday?” Dawn’s eyes teared up, and she glanced out the window.

“What is it, Dawn?”

“Nothing. It’s just, well, my birthday was Sunday.”

“This past Sunday?”

Dawn nodded and began to fiddle with the sapphire platinum pendant around her neck.

“You should have said something earlier,” Dr. Cole said. “Happy belated birthday. You know, my wife turned fifty-nine last Friday. We . . . .”

Dawn tried to smile but instead burst into tears.

“What is it?” Dr. Cole asked. He pushed the tissue box closer toward Dawn. “Why are you crying?”

“Jacob.”

“Did he forget?”

“No.” Dawn grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. “He took me out to dinner. It was a lovely night. He went all out, as always. But when I brought up having a baby again, he . . . he wasn’t as supportive as I’d hoped.” Dawn tore another tissue from the box and dabbed her eyes. “Maybe he just needs time.”

Dr. Cole patiently waited for Dawn to collect herself. The session was ending, and he needed her to calm down before she left. Dawn finally raised her head and stared at him. He said, “I’m sorry the birthday dinner wasn’t what you’d hoped it would be.”

“Do . . . do you think Jacob needs help?”

“Help? I’m sorry, I don’t–”

“Therapy. I think he’s having second thoughts on having kids.”

“I see.” Dr. Cole leaned back in his chair and scratched his beard. The panic in Dawn’s voice troubled him.

“Should we bring him in?”

“Bring him . . . .” Dr. Cole glanced at the ticking wall clock as he tried to figure out the best way to answer her question. The springs in his chair squeaked as he shifted his weight around. “Have you asked Jacob about coming in? Is he open to a therapy session?”

“Maybe.” Dawn frowned and sighed. “He told me I need to get better first before we talk about having kids.”

“Do you think he’s right?”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“Remember, Dawn, you’re still having those bad dreams.”

“I know.”

“We need to understand why these dreams won’t go away.” Dr. Cole removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Jacob isn’t in these dreams, is he?”

“No.”

Dr. Cole watched as Dawn’s tension uncoiled. He said, “We’ll bring Jacob in when the time’s right.” Dr. Cole smiled and pointed at the plaque on his desk. “Trust me.”

“Okay, sure.” Dawn looked around the doctor’s office. The walls were covered in diplomas and certificates, as well as several paintings. The bookcases were filled with mostly books and a handful of what appeared to be awards. “Why don’t you have any pictures of your family? Do you have children?”

“Children? No.” Dr. Cole glanced at his notes from their last session. He said, “Dawn, before you go, I just want to confirm that you’re only hearing the voices in your dreams.”

“What? Of course. Where else would I hear them?”

Dr. Cole nodded and made a note that read Voices only while asleep. He then opened his top drawer and removed his prescription pad. After filling it out, he tore the top page off and placed it on his desk.

Dawn stood up and adjusted her jacket. She looked at the doctor and asked, “What’s this?” She read the prescription and frowned. “Does this replace the other one?”

“No. This should help with anxiety and even help you sleep better.”

“Okay.”

Dawn shoved the script into her coat pocket. She sighed and lowered her head, her eyes filling with tears.

“What is it?” Dr. Cole asked.

“All this talk of Jacob . . . . He doesn’t come around as often as he used to. And, well, I . . . I just get so lonely sometimes, you know?” Dawn walked to the open window and looked down at the street below. “I used to spend hours in my studio painting. I just haven’t been inspired lately, And the nursery . . . . The nursery’s so empty. The apartment’s so . . . quiet.”

Dr. Cole hit the recorder’s stop button. He said, “Dawn, if your home feels that empty, why not get a pet?”

“What?” Dawn spun from the window to face the doctor. Her furrowed brow and elevated voice made it quite clear she didn’t like his suggestion. “You want me to get an animal?”

“You’ve seen Luna out front. She keeps Flo company all day. Pets can be very comforting in times like these.”

“Have you noticed the smell of cat litter in your waiting room?” Dawn tightened the belt around her raincoat. She shook her head and frowned. Dawn marched to the door, stopped, looked back at Dr. Cole, and said, “A cat? Really?”

Eleven

Zuni