Alisaura
Blue Crack Supplier
Disclaimer: Harmless work of fiction, no offense intended.
I should point out that I've never done formal counselling, so I've had to make it up. All mistakes/inaccuracies are entirely my own.
end of chapter 28:
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"I dunno," I said again, evading the issue. "Where do you look for psychologists? The yellow pages? Shrinks 'R' Us?"
"I guess the phone book is a start. Or there are probably websites and things."
I toyed with the idea of asking people I knew if they knew of anyone, but as much as I would have been more comfortable with a recommendation from a friend, I didn't want anyone to know I was even thinking about doing this. I would figure something out, I told myself, and drained the bottle.
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Chapter 29:
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What appears as your shadow is formless as a mist
You keep telling your friends you know it exists
A number of villagers had gathered around the main fire pit, centred around Gwenna's family, and that of Raele. She had been yet to find a mate, but her parents and brothers clung together in a grief-stricken knot. Gwenna was trying to comfort Raele's mother, murmuring soothing words in her ear. Several elders had accumulated nearby, muttering among themselves.
Raele had been returned to the Earth several days before, two days after her death. Tomorrow, Ewain would leave with another group of men to the quarry in the west, to retrieve more stones. The circle was nearing completion, and Ewain's urgency grew daily.
He and I approached the fire, to be met with the stares of several people. Their expressions ranged from reverence, to grief, to calculation, to anger. I wasn't sure how to react to any of them, but Ewain was much more at ease. He approached Raele's brothers. Gwenna moved away, and came over to where I had stopped.
"More death," she said. Her expression was tightly controlled.
"We all mourn," I replied. "Her spirit has joined the Earth, in a place of honour." There were raised voices from where Ewain was talking to Raele's family.
"She was of Water," Gwenna said. "Why did that stone claim her, and not the Water-stone?"
"Raele was not present at the raising of the Water-stone," I said. "No more than Ortral was present when the Sky-stone was raised. Yet he was claimed too, and not even in the circle. The stone that took Raele's life stands close to the Water-stone. For the spirits, that is enough."
I saw Alun watching me from the corner of my eye, and my glance slid towards Ewain. He was engaged in an intense conversation with Raele's parents.
"If the spirits are angry, it is because we have failed them!" The strained cry was that of Raele's mother, and she shot a venomous look at me. Me?
"You are right, in a sense," Ewain boomed, over-riding her with his voice. "Which is why we must work faster to complete the circle, and pay proper homage to them!" His voice dropped again, and Raele's family had to gather closer to hear. Some of the elders had drifted over to eavesdrop, and I saw Gwenna move closer as well.
I turned, and Alun was in front of me, with our two children. He searched my face with his eyes, and I felt regret that I had pushed him aside. I saw a multitude of questions in his face, but he rarely spoke them aloud. His Water ran deep, and what was below often failed to show on the calm surface.
"When the circle is completed, I will have more time," I told him.
"We miss you," was all he said.
I woke from that dream with a lump in my throat. I was afraid for Mag, I could see what was happening, but she was too wrapped up in Ewain. He was manipulating her, whether consciously or not. Hadn't Ed said something about Ewain's motives being twisted?
I knew... or rather, Mag knew, that all these deaths were wrong, just accidents... Well, that wasn't quite true. Mag suspected darker things; that hunger she'd felt, so briefly, in the ground inside the circle. Ewain's passion, the danger that he would be consumed by the Fire within him. But she could not bring herself to think that he was working against the best interests of the village, or of the Earth spirits that had sanctified that hilltop. Each was tied up in the other.
In the next night's dream, I learned that Ewain had convinced Raele's two brothers to join his next expedition to the quarry. That his charismatic personality could overcome their grief only deepened my concern. I began to wish, with utter futility, that I could warn Mag. But Eleri had already tried.
I didn't want to watch what was going to happen. I didn't want this woman's life running through my head – I was busy enough with my own life, and my own problems. Why was this happening to me? Or, why was my brain doing this to me? I redoubled my resolve to find a counsellor. If anything could make these dreams stop, it would be that.
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"You're here early. Or did you even go home last night?"
"Nope. Slept on the couch."
"You don't need to work that hard..."
"Let's just say I'm not welcome at home right now."
"Ah. You could have called me, you know... Did you speak to this Lisa person again?"
"No, I'm not that stupid. But I can't help the dreams. Lisa's not even in them, but apparently that's still enough."
"She's connected."
"Yeah."
"Do you have feelings for her?"
"No! No, I don't. This is killing me, you know. It's tearing me up inside. And I've got this psychotic, long-dead Celt invading my head every night, on top of everything else. I can't let it go. Half of me wants to smash that knife up and pretend none of this is happening, and get my life back. The other half... I KNOW there's more to this. I know I'm obsessed. My marriage in jeopardy, and I'm still worrying about people who've been dead for millennia. But it's not over."
"You really believe this? In your heart?"
"I know it sounds crazy, but yes, I believe it."
"It does sound crazy."
"You know there are things in the world that defy explanation. Things beyond the physical, what we can see and touch. You told me about a dream you used to have."
"Yes, the houses. But I didn't go out looking for them as soon as I had that dream. I didn't know what it was about at the time, and it might all be a co-incidence anyway."
"I'm starting to hate that word, 'co-incidence'. Everything can't be a co-incidence. And I know what I've seen, in the dreams and out at the circle."
"And that knife."
"There's no way I could have found that by co-incidence. It beggars belief. I knew it was there."
"Are you tryin' to convince me, or yourself?"
"Huh. Both."
"There, not much of a smile, but it's a start. Someone owes me a fiver."
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It wasn't 'Shrinks 'R' Us', but it was something. I'd finally made an appointment with someone at a counselling service near where we lived. At 11am on the appointed day, I sat in the waiting room, rather over-dressed, wondering what to expect from this Dr. Mossman woman. Everyone was a doctor these days, it seemed. I had unworthy thoughts of Ph.Ds found in cereal boxes. Probably where Ed got his, although it was just as likely he did have a philosophy degree, from some of the things he'd been spouting before.
I was called in to Dr. Mossman's office at last. It was large, airy and sunlit, the thinly-curtained windows offering a view over Cardiff from three storeys up. There were several comfy-looking armchairs arranged about the room, and a couch against the wall, complete with colourful cushions. Dr. Mossman herself was a middle-aged woman (which is to say, probably not much older than myself), with greying brown hair, blue eyes, and an attentive demeanour. After the pleasantries were over, I began to suspect the smile was more or less permanent, too.
We each sat in an armchair.
"Now, what's brought you here today, Lisa?" Dr. Mossman asked me.
I suppressed an urge to say something like 'your receptionist did', and took a breath. It was a huge step, telling these things to a total stranger, no matter how well-qualified she was supposed to be. Where to begin?
"I've been having these dreams, for months now," I said. "They're driving me..." I'd spoken without thinking, and grimaced. "Well, maybe they are driving me insane. I don't know. I guess that's why I'm here, really. I don't know if I have lost the plot completely, but moreover, I just want these dreams to stop. I don't know where they came from, or what they mean, if anything." It was essentially true. I didn't know anything. My suspicions were enough to get me locked in a padded cell.
"I see," Dr. Mossman said. She'd asked me to call her Bridget, but I couldn't bring myself to do it this early on. "They're recurring dreams then? What happens in them?" Her expression was attentive, but otherwise neutral.
I shifted uncomfortably. "They're not precisely recurring," I said. I wondered what she was making of my body language, and silently told myself to stop thinking about it. "It's like there's a television series running through my head. Same people, same place; but different, sequential events each time, more or less." I paused, and took another breath. "The setting is this ancient Celtic village, thousands of years ago. The inhabitants are building a stone circle. I dream that I'm a woman called Mag, and..." It occurred to me suddenly that Dr. Mossman didn't need to know anything about Ed, or his dreams. If, indeed, he was dreaming those things too, and I wasn't completely delusional. But then, how would I find out if I didn't talk about that?
If I told her everything, the early dreams with Ewain, and Ed supposedly dreaming them from his point of view, she would probably tell me that it was repressed sexual tension, especially since Ewain was apparently my subconscious mind's version of Ed. The fact that Ewain had been engaged in a passionate affair with Mag (ie; myself) in my dreams would have been enough, but that incident in the circle would have proven it. And now that the idea had occurred to me consciously, my dreams were showing darkness and doubt, the remembered admonishment of a mentor figure.
It was a neat, elegant, perfectly reasonable theory; if only it wasn't completely wrong. I was sure I had no desire to sleep with Ed. Sure, he'd seemed a nice enough guy, most of the time, and those green eyes were certainly striking, but there was nothing else to it, no raging pheromones or anything. As confused as my feelings about him were, lust was not part of it, I was sure.
Unless that was all part of a delusion as well. I was getting another headache.
"And?" Dr. Mossman prompted me. I'd been staring into space while ruminating these things, and I immediately worried about how she would interpret that.
"Um. And she's nominally in charge of the whole thing. The circle, interceding with the spirits, all that sort of stuff."
"What is it about these dreams that's upsetting you?"
I blinked. Maybe lots of people she spoke to had sequential dreams about Neolithic villagers; she certainly hadn't batted an eyelid.
"Well, to start with, it was just the fact that they just kept going and going... I mean, I didn't think it was normal to have dreams like this." A quick glance at the good doctor – she was just waiting for me to continue. "But more recently, there have been, uh, disturbing events. People killed." I looked away, pushing down the memories of blood and death. The blood on my – on Mag's hand.
"The dreams are very realistic, then? Vivid?"
"Yes. While I'm dreaming, they seem absolutely real. It's hard to remember, sometimes, that they are just dreams. And I can remember every detail, as sharp as if it really happened."
"Has anything traumatic happened in your life recently?"
"Not really," I said automatically. I'd been thinking in terms of things like car accidents or the deaths of friends or family. Then I thought about losing my job, and the rough time Glen and I had had after my last trip out to the Welsh desert. But those things had been caused BY the dreams, not the other way around.
Right?
Hell.
"Well," I amended, "I did lose my job recently. But that's why I'm here. These dreams and everything are driving me to distraction... I couldn't concentrate, I couldn't do the work as fast as it needed to be done. I just want the dreams to stop, so things can go back to how they were before."
"'And everything'? What else is driving you to distraction?"
Dammit. "Well, doubting my own sanity, for one," I said, a trifle sharply.
"There's no cause to doubt your sanity, Lisa," Dr. Mossman assured me, smiling gently. I grunted. "If you want to stop these dreams, we need to figure out why you're having them. There may be something in your sub-conscious that you need to deal with. Even if we do figure that out, you need to realise it still may not stop the dreams from occurring. But being aware of the underlying cause will allow you to deal with them, and control your reaction to them. I can see that you feel very strongly about some of the events you've dreamed about."
"Well, like I said, they feel real at the time. It's like I've got this other woman's life in my head as well as my own."
Dr. Mossman considered a moment. "Do you believe these are past-life memories? We don't do it here, but I know someone who does regression, if you think that might help..."
"What? No! I want them to go away, not validate them! God knows the dreams sneak up on me often enough while I'm awake, I don't need some quack putting me under and making me live through MORE of them. No." I glared at Dr. Mossman, who had absorbed my words with equanimity.
"You've had these dreams while awake? When did that happen?"
"Well, I wasn't totally awake for one of them," I said, subsiding. "Glen was giving me a massage, and I was probably half asleep anyway."
"And the others?"
"Other," I corrected, flinching internally from telling her about the 'incident'. "And I probably wasn't in a normal state of mind then, either." I reminded myself that these people had strict codes of confidentiality. "I was out in the field, and went into a stone circle there. For a few minutes it was like I was having one of those dreams, only I snapped out of it, and got out of there as fast as I could." Barring some awkward conversation, I thought. "I'd been working hard, mapping, and hadn't been sleeping well. The dreams were coming every night at that stage."
Dr. Mossman nodded. "You were under stress, it's understandable."
All this unwavering attention and acceptance and understanding was getting to me. At least when I spoke to Glen, he would question and challenge. This woman just absorbed everything like a sponge. I wondered how she was supposed to help me if she didn't contradict me. But it was early days, I supposed. Still, it was unnerving to have Dr. Mossman hanging on my every word and not saying anything about how weird it all was.
"Have you been writing down your dreams at all?" she went on to ask. I flinched again, maybe not wholly internally.
"I was at the beginning, but not so much any more," I replied.
"Well, I'd like to give you some homework before our next session," she said. "Start writing the dreams down again, and try to remember how you felt during them. And remember, if you're serious about getting something from these sessions, you need to be completely honest, with both of us." She was still smiling, but I felt like a guilty school girl.
I don't know what annoyed me more – the possibility that she'd known I'd held a lot back, or the thought that she'd just assumed that I would.
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I should point out that I've never done formal counselling, so I've had to make it up. All mistakes/inaccuracies are entirely my own.
end of chapter 28:
--------
"I dunno," I said again, evading the issue. "Where do you look for psychologists? The yellow pages? Shrinks 'R' Us?"
"I guess the phone book is a start. Or there are probably websites and things."
I toyed with the idea of asking people I knew if they knew of anyone, but as much as I would have been more comfortable with a recommendation from a friend, I didn't want anyone to know I was even thinking about doing this. I would figure something out, I told myself, and drained the bottle.
-----------
Chapter 29:
-----------
What appears as your shadow is formless as a mist
You keep telling your friends you know it exists
A number of villagers had gathered around the main fire pit, centred around Gwenna's family, and that of Raele. She had been yet to find a mate, but her parents and brothers clung together in a grief-stricken knot. Gwenna was trying to comfort Raele's mother, murmuring soothing words in her ear. Several elders had accumulated nearby, muttering among themselves.
Raele had been returned to the Earth several days before, two days after her death. Tomorrow, Ewain would leave with another group of men to the quarry in the west, to retrieve more stones. The circle was nearing completion, and Ewain's urgency grew daily.
He and I approached the fire, to be met with the stares of several people. Their expressions ranged from reverence, to grief, to calculation, to anger. I wasn't sure how to react to any of them, but Ewain was much more at ease. He approached Raele's brothers. Gwenna moved away, and came over to where I had stopped.
"More death," she said. Her expression was tightly controlled.
"We all mourn," I replied. "Her spirit has joined the Earth, in a place of honour." There were raised voices from where Ewain was talking to Raele's family.
"She was of Water," Gwenna said. "Why did that stone claim her, and not the Water-stone?"
"Raele was not present at the raising of the Water-stone," I said. "No more than Ortral was present when the Sky-stone was raised. Yet he was claimed too, and not even in the circle. The stone that took Raele's life stands close to the Water-stone. For the spirits, that is enough."
I saw Alun watching me from the corner of my eye, and my glance slid towards Ewain. He was engaged in an intense conversation with Raele's parents.
"If the spirits are angry, it is because we have failed them!" The strained cry was that of Raele's mother, and she shot a venomous look at me. Me?
"You are right, in a sense," Ewain boomed, over-riding her with his voice. "Which is why we must work faster to complete the circle, and pay proper homage to them!" His voice dropped again, and Raele's family had to gather closer to hear. Some of the elders had drifted over to eavesdrop, and I saw Gwenna move closer as well.
I turned, and Alun was in front of me, with our two children. He searched my face with his eyes, and I felt regret that I had pushed him aside. I saw a multitude of questions in his face, but he rarely spoke them aloud. His Water ran deep, and what was below often failed to show on the calm surface.
"When the circle is completed, I will have more time," I told him.
"We miss you," was all he said.
I woke from that dream with a lump in my throat. I was afraid for Mag, I could see what was happening, but she was too wrapped up in Ewain. He was manipulating her, whether consciously or not. Hadn't Ed said something about Ewain's motives being twisted?
I knew... or rather, Mag knew, that all these deaths were wrong, just accidents... Well, that wasn't quite true. Mag suspected darker things; that hunger she'd felt, so briefly, in the ground inside the circle. Ewain's passion, the danger that he would be consumed by the Fire within him. But she could not bring herself to think that he was working against the best interests of the village, or of the Earth spirits that had sanctified that hilltop. Each was tied up in the other.
In the next night's dream, I learned that Ewain had convinced Raele's two brothers to join his next expedition to the quarry. That his charismatic personality could overcome their grief only deepened my concern. I began to wish, with utter futility, that I could warn Mag. But Eleri had already tried.
I didn't want to watch what was going to happen. I didn't want this woman's life running through my head – I was busy enough with my own life, and my own problems. Why was this happening to me? Or, why was my brain doing this to me? I redoubled my resolve to find a counsellor. If anything could make these dreams stop, it would be that.
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"You're here early. Or did you even go home last night?"
"Nope. Slept on the couch."
"You don't need to work that hard..."
"Let's just say I'm not welcome at home right now."
"Ah. You could have called me, you know... Did you speak to this Lisa person again?"
"No, I'm not that stupid. But I can't help the dreams. Lisa's not even in them, but apparently that's still enough."
"She's connected."
"Yeah."
"Do you have feelings for her?"
"No! No, I don't. This is killing me, you know. It's tearing me up inside. And I've got this psychotic, long-dead Celt invading my head every night, on top of everything else. I can't let it go. Half of me wants to smash that knife up and pretend none of this is happening, and get my life back. The other half... I KNOW there's more to this. I know I'm obsessed. My marriage in jeopardy, and I'm still worrying about people who've been dead for millennia. But it's not over."
"You really believe this? In your heart?"
"I know it sounds crazy, but yes, I believe it."
"It does sound crazy."
"You know there are things in the world that defy explanation. Things beyond the physical, what we can see and touch. You told me about a dream you used to have."
"Yes, the houses. But I didn't go out looking for them as soon as I had that dream. I didn't know what it was about at the time, and it might all be a co-incidence anyway."
"I'm starting to hate that word, 'co-incidence'. Everything can't be a co-incidence. And I know what I've seen, in the dreams and out at the circle."
"And that knife."
"There's no way I could have found that by co-incidence. It beggars belief. I knew it was there."
"Are you tryin' to convince me, or yourself?"
"Huh. Both."
"There, not much of a smile, but it's a start. Someone owes me a fiver."
----------------------------------------
It wasn't 'Shrinks 'R' Us', but it was something. I'd finally made an appointment with someone at a counselling service near where we lived. At 11am on the appointed day, I sat in the waiting room, rather over-dressed, wondering what to expect from this Dr. Mossman woman. Everyone was a doctor these days, it seemed. I had unworthy thoughts of Ph.Ds found in cereal boxes. Probably where Ed got his, although it was just as likely he did have a philosophy degree, from some of the things he'd been spouting before.
I was called in to Dr. Mossman's office at last. It was large, airy and sunlit, the thinly-curtained windows offering a view over Cardiff from three storeys up. There were several comfy-looking armchairs arranged about the room, and a couch against the wall, complete with colourful cushions. Dr. Mossman herself was a middle-aged woman (which is to say, probably not much older than myself), with greying brown hair, blue eyes, and an attentive demeanour. After the pleasantries were over, I began to suspect the smile was more or less permanent, too.
We each sat in an armchair.
"Now, what's brought you here today, Lisa?" Dr. Mossman asked me.
I suppressed an urge to say something like 'your receptionist did', and took a breath. It was a huge step, telling these things to a total stranger, no matter how well-qualified she was supposed to be. Where to begin?
"I've been having these dreams, for months now," I said. "They're driving me..." I'd spoken without thinking, and grimaced. "Well, maybe they are driving me insane. I don't know. I guess that's why I'm here, really. I don't know if I have lost the plot completely, but moreover, I just want these dreams to stop. I don't know where they came from, or what they mean, if anything." It was essentially true. I didn't know anything. My suspicions were enough to get me locked in a padded cell.
"I see," Dr. Mossman said. She'd asked me to call her Bridget, but I couldn't bring myself to do it this early on. "They're recurring dreams then? What happens in them?" Her expression was attentive, but otherwise neutral.
I shifted uncomfortably. "They're not precisely recurring," I said. I wondered what she was making of my body language, and silently told myself to stop thinking about it. "It's like there's a television series running through my head. Same people, same place; but different, sequential events each time, more or less." I paused, and took another breath. "The setting is this ancient Celtic village, thousands of years ago. The inhabitants are building a stone circle. I dream that I'm a woman called Mag, and..." It occurred to me suddenly that Dr. Mossman didn't need to know anything about Ed, or his dreams. If, indeed, he was dreaming those things too, and I wasn't completely delusional. But then, how would I find out if I didn't talk about that?
If I told her everything, the early dreams with Ewain, and Ed supposedly dreaming them from his point of view, she would probably tell me that it was repressed sexual tension, especially since Ewain was apparently my subconscious mind's version of Ed. The fact that Ewain had been engaged in a passionate affair with Mag (ie; myself) in my dreams would have been enough, but that incident in the circle would have proven it. And now that the idea had occurred to me consciously, my dreams were showing darkness and doubt, the remembered admonishment of a mentor figure.
It was a neat, elegant, perfectly reasonable theory; if only it wasn't completely wrong. I was sure I had no desire to sleep with Ed. Sure, he'd seemed a nice enough guy, most of the time, and those green eyes were certainly striking, but there was nothing else to it, no raging pheromones or anything. As confused as my feelings about him were, lust was not part of it, I was sure.
Unless that was all part of a delusion as well. I was getting another headache.
"And?" Dr. Mossman prompted me. I'd been staring into space while ruminating these things, and I immediately worried about how she would interpret that.
"Um. And she's nominally in charge of the whole thing. The circle, interceding with the spirits, all that sort of stuff."
"What is it about these dreams that's upsetting you?"
I blinked. Maybe lots of people she spoke to had sequential dreams about Neolithic villagers; she certainly hadn't batted an eyelid.
"Well, to start with, it was just the fact that they just kept going and going... I mean, I didn't think it was normal to have dreams like this." A quick glance at the good doctor – she was just waiting for me to continue. "But more recently, there have been, uh, disturbing events. People killed." I looked away, pushing down the memories of blood and death. The blood on my – on Mag's hand.
"The dreams are very realistic, then? Vivid?"
"Yes. While I'm dreaming, they seem absolutely real. It's hard to remember, sometimes, that they are just dreams. And I can remember every detail, as sharp as if it really happened."
"Has anything traumatic happened in your life recently?"
"Not really," I said automatically. I'd been thinking in terms of things like car accidents or the deaths of friends or family. Then I thought about losing my job, and the rough time Glen and I had had after my last trip out to the Welsh desert. But those things had been caused BY the dreams, not the other way around.
Right?
Hell.
"Well," I amended, "I did lose my job recently. But that's why I'm here. These dreams and everything are driving me to distraction... I couldn't concentrate, I couldn't do the work as fast as it needed to be done. I just want the dreams to stop, so things can go back to how they were before."
"'And everything'? What else is driving you to distraction?"
Dammit. "Well, doubting my own sanity, for one," I said, a trifle sharply.
"There's no cause to doubt your sanity, Lisa," Dr. Mossman assured me, smiling gently. I grunted. "If you want to stop these dreams, we need to figure out why you're having them. There may be something in your sub-conscious that you need to deal with. Even if we do figure that out, you need to realise it still may not stop the dreams from occurring. But being aware of the underlying cause will allow you to deal with them, and control your reaction to them. I can see that you feel very strongly about some of the events you've dreamed about."
"Well, like I said, they feel real at the time. It's like I've got this other woman's life in my head as well as my own."
Dr. Mossman considered a moment. "Do you believe these are past-life memories? We don't do it here, but I know someone who does regression, if you think that might help..."
"What? No! I want them to go away, not validate them! God knows the dreams sneak up on me often enough while I'm awake, I don't need some quack putting me under and making me live through MORE of them. No." I glared at Dr. Mossman, who had absorbed my words with equanimity.
"You've had these dreams while awake? When did that happen?"
"Well, I wasn't totally awake for one of them," I said, subsiding. "Glen was giving me a massage, and I was probably half asleep anyway."
"And the others?"
"Other," I corrected, flinching internally from telling her about the 'incident'. "And I probably wasn't in a normal state of mind then, either." I reminded myself that these people had strict codes of confidentiality. "I was out in the field, and went into a stone circle there. For a few minutes it was like I was having one of those dreams, only I snapped out of it, and got out of there as fast as I could." Barring some awkward conversation, I thought. "I'd been working hard, mapping, and hadn't been sleeping well. The dreams were coming every night at that stage."
Dr. Mossman nodded. "You were under stress, it's understandable."
All this unwavering attention and acceptance and understanding was getting to me. At least when I spoke to Glen, he would question and challenge. This woman just absorbed everything like a sponge. I wondered how she was supposed to help me if she didn't contradict me. But it was early days, I supposed. Still, it was unnerving to have Dr. Mossman hanging on my every word and not saying anything about how weird it all was.
"Have you been writing down your dreams at all?" she went on to ask. I flinched again, maybe not wholly internally.
"I was at the beginning, but not so much any more," I replied.
"Well, I'd like to give you some homework before our next session," she said. "Start writing the dreams down again, and try to remember how you felt during them. And remember, if you're serious about getting something from these sessions, you need to be completely honest, with both of us." She was still smiling, but I felt like a guilty school girl.
I don't know what annoyed me more – the possibility that she'd known I'd held a lot back, or the thought that she'd just assumed that I would.
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I wonder what the doc will make of this...
I keep on missing every one you do. Ack!
