Therapy

Dr. Frey was a bona fide miracle. He talked to Catherine, and Catherine talked to him. She wasn't put on any drugs, but was advised to keep writing and doodling in the diary that I had given her. Obviously Dr. Frey could not disclose to me what they talked about, but I did listen in outside the door to sate my curiosity. I heard some things like, "The darkness cannot hurt you, neither can the snow, or the trees for that matter." and "You love Elizabeth with all your heart, I can tell. You are both so lucky to have each other in these stressful times." The secretary found me, and out into the waiting room I was sent.

Catherine was taken to get examined by medical doctors to check for any injuries or signs that she had been sexually assaulted. Aside from some scrapes not made my knives, bruises that were made by fumbling and falling, and a bloody nose, she was unharmed. She had not been raped, thankfully, and nothing suggested that she had been beaten or tortured. A cat scan was done to see if she suffered any head trauma; they all came back normal, much to the puzzlement of the doctors.

But we celebrated Catherine's return and good health, with Vivian driving all five of us to Chili's. And boy, was it delicious. Despite all of that, I still managed to lose four pounds. I blame Florence for her not-so little running trips she has us all do with her.

Another time that I accompanied Catherine to the doctor's office, I looked up from my fashion magazine and truly observed my surroundings. Some of the pictures were of nature: forests, lakes, mountain tops and deserts during different seasons were predominate, but there were also pictures of people. Some of them were done in a blanched, vintage style that was rather pretty. Near Dr. Frey's door was a small table with some little  fresh summer flowers in a green glass vase, and close to it was a photograph of two charming looking girls. After the session between them had completed, I asked him, "Who are those two girls there, Doctor?"

"Oh! Those are my two daughters: Justine and Juliette." He brought the picture forward so we could see better. The girls were very pretty, dressed up in formal wear. "This was a while ago, so if you meet them they will be much more beautiful."

We complimented the photo and his daughters, thanked the doctor again and off we went.
On the drive back to my house, Catherine poked my arm and said, "I hope our girls will be as pretty as Dr. Frey's."

"Oh, much more!" I laughed. "They'll be the prettiest, nicest kids in the world."

"Their names will be Alice and Dorothy."

"Perfect!"

"And they will wear little blue dresses."

"Even better."

So the topic of the day was children, and when we think we would be ready for them. We supposed sometime in our mid to late twenties or early thirties. Sometimes I wonder what kind of life we would have had if she stayed. I still miss her.