Last Straw

"I told you, Abbi did not leave me."

"My mistake. I misspoke. How long since you were last with your wife this time?"

"It's been a while."

"How long?"

"Four months, eleven days, and about nine hours ago, I said goodbye to her."

He leaned back on the couch he sat on, leaning his head back until he was looking at the ceiling. For Eddus, the time he'd spent with Issabella had flown by. He could almost feel the passing of each minute since his mate had last held him tightly and kissed him before stepping again into the faerie ring, once again crossing the barrier between their realms.

She'd stayed with him for about a month this time. It was the longest she had been away from their child since she'd been born. It was only about three days in the faerie realm, but the new mother could not stay away from her child any longer.

"And your daughter?"

"Elizabeth," Eddus said softly, mostly out of habit.

Although he no longer needed to prompt himself, he'd started saying it years ago as a reminder not to use his daughter's true name in the presence of others. It was Issabella's idea to let him choose what to call her until she could choose for herself, though she'd reluctantly agreed to his choice.

There was a pause as he inhaled deeply, then let the breath out slowly.

"Yes, Ed, Elizabeth. How is your daughter?"

"Why do you do this, Dr. Thornton?"

"I'm only asking about what's been happening in your life since our last session."

"Why must you ask me that question in particular? Every time we meet. You know that I've never seen Elizabeth."

"So you've said." The therapist paused, adjusting her glasses, resting her eyes on the face of the man lying on the chaise lounge in front of her. She folded her hands on her lap. "You also still refer to her as an infant."

"Yes."

"Almost like a newborn."

"Yes." Opening his eyes, Eddus sighed, staring at the ceiling.

"You've only ever referred to your daughter in that way."

"And?"

"Elizabeth cannot be a newborn, Eddus."

"Ed..."

"Ed," Dr. Thornton leaned forward, "you've been coming to me for over ten years. In that time, we've often spoken of your wife and your child. And whenever you've spoken of her, Elizabeth has been a baby."

"She is a year and a half."

"Ten years, Ed."

Eddus turned his head toward the therapist.

"You first spoke to me of your daughter ten years ago."

Eddus said nothing, still looking at her.

Dr. Thornton inhaled deeply. She pursed her lips as she exhaled, before speaking.

"This," she said. "This is not healthy."

"What do you mean?"

"For years, you have spoken about a wife who is never here. You've always spoken of your daughter as an infant. And I have indulged you. It's unhealthy, and I think it has gone on long enough."

Eddus turned his head to look at the ceiling again and closed his eyes, reprimanding himself for ever having brought up the topic.

He couldn't speak about his daughter with the therapist. In the little that he'd said over the years, he had protected her real name, mentioning her only as Elizabeth. Initially, after accidentally mentioning her, Eddus refrained from speaking of her unless asked directly by the therapist.

Issabella, he was always careful to call Abbi. Over the years, Eddus had told the therapist about how he'd met his wife and that their marriage had happened rather hastily, but had taken special care not to go into too much detail.

As far as he could tell, Dr. Thornton most likely believed that the marriage had been due to Abbi's pregnancy. There was never any mention of where anything, except their meeting, had taken place. And there was certainly never any mention of realms or faeries.

"It was our agreement," Eddus said softly.

"Yes, it was."

"I continued to see you because you agreed that no matter what I said, no matter how far-fetched, you would listen, advise, and not ask questions."

"I haven't asked you a question."

Eddus said nothing. He felt a tired annoyance building inside. The therapist had not asked a question, in so many words, but he could feel her hinting. He inhaled deeply and sighed.

"Eddus- Ed- I must be honest with you. For ten years, I haven't been able to tell if this is some kind of fantasy or a delusion. Perhaps it's a coping mechanism for the loss of a loved one. You speak so convincingly that I honestly can't tell. A whirlwind romance, a spur-of-the-moment marriage, and an unplanned pregnancy... It's not uncommon. And it's not impossible. But then your wife leaves just before your baby is born, and you're not allowed to see your daughter, though you do still have contact with her mother." Dr. Thornton shook her head. "As per our agreement, I've never asked questions or taken any notes. I don't know what this is, but I have worried for some time as to what the effect of my entertaining this is having on your well-being."

Eddus' jaw tightened for a moment. To hear it in such a way did not sit right with him. It was he himself who'd left, even if it was forced. Issabella had done nothing wrong, but the only way to explain why she wasn't with him was to let the therapist believe that it was she who had left.

"I'm fine, doctor," Eddus said blandly, staring at the texture of the office ceiling tiles.

"You're not fine, Mr. Brandt. We have been meeting for a long time now, and I have watched you slowly decline year after year. I am convinced that our arrangement not only does nothing to help you, but it can also be seen to have been a harmful factor in your mental health."

"You're right, you know," Eddus blurted in exasperation. A tear escaped the corner of his eye, rolling down his temple to his ear. He shook his head angrily, as if trying to dismiss his emotion. "It's not healthy. I know it's not. But this – talking to you for all these years... It's the best I can do. And yes, it is a coping mechanism. I'm trying to cope with the fact that there are months, sometimes years, between the extremely short periods of time that I get to be with the woman I love. And, yes, I did lose someone, though she's not dead. I have a daughter whom I have never even seen and never will. Her first words... her first steps – I don't get to watch her grow up. I will die having never met my own child. These talks are all that I have!"

The therapist watched her patient, who sat up, shaking his head, his brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched.

"Are you sick, Ed?"

"What?" Bewildered, Eddus turned his head to look at her.

"Are you ill? Have you been diagnosed with, or do you have some terminal illness that you've not told me about?" Dr. Thornton removed her glasses, leaning forward slightly in her chair with a look of concern on her face.

"What- no! I'm as healthy as I've ever been."

The two of them were silent for a few moments, looking at one another. Eddus could see the questions behind the therapist's gaze. His outburst had not been intentional, and by the time he realised what he was saying, it had already been said.

For just a moment, the feeling of déjà vu washed over him. It was only a feeling, but one he hadn't experienced in years, since when he'd first spoken to Issabella, answering her questions, when he had only known her as Abbi.

Déjà vu was quickly replaced with a kind of sad anger, both at having said more than he should have and at it conjuring up old feelings. Shaking his head again, Eddus leaned back again, looking at the office ceiling for a moment before again closing his eyes.

"I only ask because I want to understand," Dr. Thornton said gently.

She chose her next words carefully, not sure how, or even if, to proceed. Her next words could shatter his delusion, if that was in fact what he was experiencing. She had to tread carefully.

"You're in your fifties, Ed. You have your health. There is still plenty of time for you to get to know your daughter. There is plenty of time for you to see Elizabeth grow to be a woman."

"I don't want to talk about this."

There was a pause as Dr. Thornton again thought about how and what she should say next. She could see that her patient was in an uncomfortable space, and she didn't want to upset his fragile state too much. At the same time, she also knew that if she didn't push him, he could close off in the future. The result of ten years of therapy boiled down to this conversation. She realised that at this moment she could be walking the fine line between breakthrough and breakdown.

"Ed, we need to speak about this. You opened this door. You pushed your own boundaries today. Until this point, when you spoke of your daughter, Elizabeth was only the name of your child that you'd not met. You only ever talk about her as if in passing. Please. Tell me about her. Why is it that you think things are so bad that you have ruled out any possibility of having some sort of relationship with her? You've said that you still see her mother from time to time, so what's to say that in time you can't also see your daughter, as well as make up for lost time?"

"This was never part of our arrangement." Eddus sat up quickly on the edge of the sofa. He looked at the therapist sternly. "Our sessions are not supposed to go like this."

"On the contrary, Ed." The therapist sat calmly in her chair, not wanting to show any response to her patient's sudden actions, though her heart was racing. "This is exactly what therapy is about. Sometimes it does take a long time to make a breakthrough and come to terms with the obstacles in one's life, but ultimately, the goal here is to help you overcome those obstacles and be able to live comfortably."

"I don't come here to come to terms with anything." Eddus shook his head, looking down at the floor. "I'm here because this is a place where I can speak, and know that what I say won't leave this room. I come because you agreed not to ask questions. There is nothing to come to terms with. There is no changing it. I did something a long time ago, the consequences of which I have to live with."

"Are you in trouble, Ed?" Dr. Thornton watched her client sitting with his head down. "Did you get into some sort of trouble, and that's why you cannot see your daughter?"

"I have to go..."

Eddus stood. He had again said much more than he intended. He walked slowly to the office door, not looking at the doctor.

"We don't have to talk about this right now, Ed."

Dr. Thornton stood up. She turned to look at him, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear.

Eddus paused, his hand on the door handle, but didn't turn around.

"You've taken a big step today. And as you mentioned, nothing you tell me will ever go beyond these walls."

Eddus turned the door's handle, pushing it open slightly.

"You need some time to cool down and think on things," the therapist said, hoping to calm her patient. "Shall we schedule a date for our next session?"

"No." Eddus shook his head as he pushed the door open, "I don't think we'll be seeing one another again."