Chapter 11: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Our evenings during the summer were divided between sitting out on the deck or watching TV if we weren't at the ball park with Jack. Ali came to every game and cheered Jack on, always supportive and never critical if he made a mistake. She knew enough about baseball to know Jack was trying hard and getting better with each game. More importantly, Jack loved to play, just like his special older brother, Matt. With T-Ball, he was guaranteed to play in every game, so it was fun to watch him get joy from the weekly contests. He had a bunch of pals on the team as well as some on other teams, so there was lots of social interaction.

Ali and Jack also accompanied me to every Babe Ruth game that Matt played. Matt was clearly Jack's idol, and he was very impressed with Matt's skills as he fielded and hit. When Matt wasn't playing third base he was in left field and, with a mid-three-hundreds average, he was batting clean-up. Matt was also the alternate captain to his friend, Donny Scroggs, the catcher. He was so much happier in Babe Ruth than he would have been as a sophomore on the high school team. I wondered if he'd even try out for the school team in his junior year.

By the time the third treatment was done in mid-July, I could begin to see the results. Dr. Sylvan suggested two more treatments should be enough and then the reconstructive surgery on my ear could be scheduled. I wasn't looking forward to anything but getting this whole process over with. It was unpleasant and painful, but since it was working, I tolerated it.

My other problem, however, had not gone away. I wondered why I still kept my townhouse. It was a monthly mortgage payment plus utilities for no purpose. Was I destined to be living with Reese, Ali, and the children permanently? I was resolved that that was not going to happen. As much as I appreciated what they felt they were doing for me, I was getting the impression I was no longer in charge of my life. It had been taken over by two strong-willed women, aided and abetted by three children. When I was finished with Dr. Sylvan, I would be moving back to the townhouse, no matter what.

I think the women and children noticed my change in mood over the summer. I wasn't as happy as I normally would be. I was irritable with them now and then, usually for no good reason. It was better at work. I didn't feel the pressure there. I knew my job, I did it well, and the personal relationships were straightforward and professional. It was at home that I was uncomfortable. If even I noticed it, then it was probably worse than I realized. I didn't want to be angry or testy with anyone, let alone my temporary extended family. In early August, I made a decision and called Dr. Menard.

"Doctor, can you recommend a psychologist ... or maybe even a psychiatrist for me? I'm having trouble with anger and frustration, and I'm sure I'm hurting those around me at home."

"Mr. Rideout, I suggest you contact your insurance carrier. They will have a list of possible choices. Make sure you let them know this is a continuing consequence of your injuries. I'm sure you will be covered."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'll do that. I also wanted you to know that I can see the improvement that Dr. Sylvan is making, so I'm more confident that I'll be restored to something closely approximating normal ... the way I was."

"I'm very pleased to hear that. Good luck to you, Mr. Rideout."

I wasn't surprised he couldn't give me a direct referral, but I should have realized our insurance carrier for the city would be able to. I called their information number and got a list of potential doctors and practitioners to use. I had no idea who to use or how to decide, so I chose to begin with psychologists. Not all of them were doctors. I picked a name that sounded likely and called his office.

"I'd like to make an appointment with Mr. Farnsworth, please," I told the receptionist on the phone.

"It's Ms. Farnsworth, sir. Can I get your name and telephone number please?"

We went from there, giving her my basic contact information, where I worked and that this would be an insurance claim. She indicated she could fit me in for a "preliminary discussion" with Ms. Farnsworth early next week. That discussion would apparently decide if she was the right person to help me.

I said nothing to anyone other than my boss about my decision to get some professional help. He was surprised, since he hadn't seen any sign of my problems. However, he was most supportive and authorized my requested weekly time off. I almost had second thoughts about the person I chose when I realized it was a woman. On the list of potential psychologists, she was simply listed as M. L. Farnsworth. However, I decided not to prejudge her and would determine whether we were a good fit after we talked.

The initial interview began more like my having coffee with a new neighbor. She was trying to get to know me and more about me, I assumed. I was trying to figure out what she might be able to do to help me. It was too early to tell. It wasn't until about fifteen minutes after we introduced ourselves that she got down to some key questions.

"Tell me why you sought out my help, Mr. Rideout."

"I'm not who I used to be. This past year has been a horror story that I hope I will never have to repeat. I discovered my wife was having an affair and planned to leave me and marry her lover. She and he were going to extract a punishing amount in alimony and child support until my lawyer put a stop to it. My divorce was final just before the end of the year and I still have good access to my children.

"At a New Year's party, I met a woman and we seemed to become very close in a very short period of time. Almost the moment we became intimate, I had an accident in my car and was severely injured. I've been recovering from that accident and I'm still in treatment for damage to my face and ear," I said, pointing to the right side of my head.

"As part of my recovery, I moved back into my old home and my ex-wife and my new lady take turns looking after me. Other than the treatments to restore my face and ear, I'm completely healed. However, I can't seem to break away from this situation and regain the life I had before. I feel like I've lost control of my life. I don't want to hurt anyone and I am grateful for all their help, but I need to find a way to get my life back in order and regain some control over my future."

"That's a very confusing story, Mr. Rideout. You say you are living with your ex-wife and she's being assisted by your new lady friend? Explain, please."

I started at the beginning with my discovery of Reese's affair with Gordon Winters, my moving out, the original demands of their lawyer, my lawyer's successful strategy and the decision of the judge. Then I told her about the New Year's party, my romance with Ali, and getting to know Jack, her son. I also told her about Winters abandoning the marriage to my ex-wife and the strategy to make him responsible for his promises. Finally, I told her about the accident, the recovery in hospital, the out-of-court settlement and my going to live in my old home.

"That's a fascinating story, Graham, if I may call you that," she smiled. "Please feel free to call me Mary."

I think we both had come to the conclusion that Mary Farnsworth was interested in my situation and wanted to work with me. I decided then and there that I would. She was in her mid-fifties, I guessed. She was slim, gray-haired, with piercing gray eyes and a friendly smile. I liked her style and her professional manner. I felt I was in good hands.

"Why don't you tell me what's bothering you about this. On the face of it, you're very fortunate, all things considered. You've at least socially reconciled with your ex-wife and have found a woman you think you may be in love with. You have a fine job and a great relationship with your children and Ms. Bledsoe's son. What is it that doesn't feel right?"

I paused before I answered. "This is going to sound very ... sexist ... Mary. I feel like I'm being dominated by these two women. I'm being told what to do and when to do it and that's not the kind of relationship I want with either of them. Reese ... Clarissa ... is the mother of my children and I want a civil relationship with her. I have some very fond memories of our life together and I don't want that to be overshadowed by her mistake. But there isn't going to be any reconciliation. That will never happen.

"Ali is another matter altogether. There is absolutely nothing in her personality or physical makeup in common with Reese. She is very smart, driven, strong-willed, passionate, protective ... I could probably go on, but I'm sure you get the idea. As much as I admire all she has accomplished as a single mother, I'm looking for an equal partner. I'm wondering if she wouldn't want to continue as the dominant figure in our relationship. Is that who she really is? As much as I love being with her, I don't think I could handle a steady dose of that."

Mary sat back, her note pad in her lap, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Have you ever talked to her about your feelings?"

"No. I admit, I'm chicken," I grinned. "With all they've done for me, I feel guilty about my state of mind. It would seem disrespectful of their efforts to care for me when I needed help. I really don't know how to approach them ... particularly Ali."

"Yes ... I can imagine that would be difficult. Our hour is almost up, Graham. Can I assume you would like to continue these sessions?"

"Yes," I nodded. "I'm hoping we can find a solution to my concerns."

"I'm going to send you a questionnaire in a couple of days. You should keep this private from your family and others. I want you to give this some thought and try and be as honest as you can with your answers. What I want to do with it is attempt to determine a course of action for you. I'm not a believer in medication and I don't think you are depressed. I think between us, we can work out a practical solution to your concerns."