Chapter 18: Kitchen Talk

Rachel Wilson was in her early thirties, and her small size made her look even younger. She had only limited experience with rape victims, but after Deirdre Darling made an appointment she read up as much as she could, both on the case and on general principles of dealing with a severely traumatized woman.

When Deirdre entered Rachel's office for the first time, the young therapist knew she had her work cut out for her. Deirdre was beyond nervous, and her eyes darted in all directions as she entered. Early stages of agoraphobia, Rachel made a mental note. This girl would not relax in the therapy room Rachel sensed.

"Hi, you're Deirdre, tight? I'm Rachel. I'm sorry, I was running a bit late on the previous appointment and barely made it. Would you mind if I brewed a tea before we start?"

"No, that's okay, I guess."

The girl was relieved over the delay, which was Rachel's intent.

"You want a cup, too?" she offered, to which Deirdre nodded. "Come to the kitchen, and I'll get some water to boil."

While the water heated – Rachel had set the plate to medium to make it take longer – she started an innocuous conversation, quizzing Deirdre on her study plans, how she got along with Claire, how she liked the rough climate of Northern California, and a number of other topics as they came to her mind. The Oolong tea took a while to stew – more time to establish a more relaxed atmosphere – and once the cups were poured Rachel steered the talking towards more relevant topics, namely Deirdre's childhood and adolescence. Deirdre was the last patient on this afternoon. Rachel ignored the clock and continued over the set time making full use of the opportunity. She was able to extract the entire sordid story of Deirdre's social pariah status in Pittsburgh, of her new start in Philadelphia, and then the first meeting with another wounded soul, Joey Di Rosa.

The growl of Deirdre's stomach – it was past six-thirty – broke the spell.

"Oh, boy, we just talked the time away. I'm so sorry that I wasted the appointment with this irrelevant chit-chat. On the other hand, I feel that I know you much better already."

Deirdre just nodded, shy again.

"Those Darling jokes must come out of your ear, right?"

Deirdre nodded again.

"Boy, can I understand that!" Rachel continued. "Do you know what my maiden name was? Green! Rachel fucking Green! Friends came out in my senior year and when I was in college, all I got to hear was, 'Why can't you give poor Ross a break, Rachel?', or, 'I think you were on a break!'. God, I don't think I would have accepted Larry's proposal if I hadn't been sick and tired of my last name."

That, finally got a weak smile from Deirdre. "That must have been bad. Where did you grow up?"

Yes! Interest! A question!

"A small place in Montana, Clearwater Crossing. Well, they abbreviated that to Clearwater in '98. Just eight thousand souls, a general store, a small community hospital, a savings bank, and a high school. County seat, too. Look, I want to make up for my wasting your time. How about you come here tomorrow, same time? I won't charge."

Again, a tentative smile from the girl. "I'd like that. Will we ... Will I have to talk about, you know,..."

"The rape? No, I don't think so. Idle as our talk was today, I discovered a few things about your past that we need to explore in detail before we can tackle the grim stuff. I'll not lie to you, Deirdre. It will be a tough piece of work to resolve your issues. Perhaps it was for the best that we got to know each other first."

That ended the first session. Rachel was satisfied with the outcome. Trust was established now and she had been able to learn more about Deirdre's background. That Karen character must have been like a huge albatross around Deirdre's neck. Rachel knew a few lesbian women who had suffered under intolerant heterosexual family members, but this was the first case where the shoe had been on the other foot. She wondered about this young man, Joey Whatshisface, no, Di Rosa. The only time Deirdre's eyes had shown warmth had been when she talked about him.

Over the next weeks, even over Christmas, Rachel saw Deirdre twice a week. It was always in the evenings as last patient for the day. She learned en passant that Deirdre's decision to stay in Eureka over the Holidays was not well received by her mother who felt rejected. From a few remarks, Rachel also learned that Deirdre's relationship with her high school boyfriend was dwindling away under her inability to return to the East or even to maintain regular contact via telephone or email. Unfortunately they had not yet arrived at the events preceding and following the rape orgy. There were mountains of issues in Deirdre's earlier live that needed unearthing and being dealt with.

Then, in mid-January, Deirdre placed a request for an emergency meeting. Rachel skipped her lunch break to fit her in. The girl arrived in a state of terrible agitation.

"K–Karen died yesterday," she sobbed once Rachel had made her sit. "She never woke up again, but she died yesterday. M–Mom called, and she expects me to come for the f–funeral, but I c–cant't. I just c–can't!"

"Deirdre, did you tell your mother about the reasons?"

"I told her I'm afraid, and she keeps saying, those m–men are long g–gone. How can she know that?"

"You know," Rachel said gently, "this is difficult for me. So far, we have stayed clear of what happened when those men abducted and raped you. I will not pretend that I can understand you without having discussed those events. We really need to progress to that now in our appointments. You are afraid of those men showing up again and repeating what they did, right?"

Deirdre stared at her. "In my head, I know they are lying low, somewhere in Central America. In my head, I know that won't dare to come back. They risk the death penalty if they are ever caught. I know that. I doesn't help. My heart c–cramps even when I think the w-word Ph–Phila ... I know I'm not rational."

"Deirdre, does your mother know the shape you're in, mentally?"

Deirdre shook her head.

"Would it help if I explained things to her?"

Deirdre nodded, hope in her eyes.

"That would help. She th–thinks I'm refusing to c–come out of spite, but that's not it!"

Rachel pushed her phone over the table. "Why don't you dial for me, Deirdre. I'll do my best to explain things."

Silently, Deirdre pushed the buttons and handed the receiver to Rachel.

"Assistant District Attorney Maureen Darling's office, how may I help you?"

A secretary, Rachel thought.

"Hi, this is Dr. Rachel Wilson, from Eureka, California. I would like to speak Ms. Darling in a personal matter."

"Just a moment, Doctor," the secretary replied, and only a second later, a panicky voice assaulted Rachel's eardrums.

"Yes, Darling here! What happened to Deirdre?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I did not mean to frighten you. I'm calling on Deirdre's behalf. She is sitting across from me, and she's not hurt in any way."

"Oh, my God! I'm sorry, this is one of my nightmares, receiving a call from a hospital or the police. Are you her physician?"