At four o’clock, Adam went down the hallway to Carol’s office for his session with her, and he felt like he seriously needed it. Carol, waiting in her chair, didn’t say hello, just “Come in.”

She was slim, in her late fifties, always wore her gray hair in a neat bun. She’d been a mentor to Adam and also a confidant. He often discussed patients with her, and she always had sound, rational advice. He was eager to talk to her about everything he’d been going though lately, but first he felt like he needed to express his feelings about her and his other coworkers, so he said, “Before we start, I just want you to know that I feel incredibly attacked and judged by all of you.”

Carol, holding her pad, was sitting calmly across from him. “Attacked?” she asked as if surprised. “Why do you feel attacked?”

The problem with being in therapy as a therapist was that Adam always felt one step ahead of Carol. He always knew exactly where she was going with her questioning, what types of feelings she was trying to elicit from him. It was like being a football coach who had access to the other team’s playbook. It was still worthwhile for him to see her- expressing how he felt was important in itself, and simply talking about his problems always helped him understand himself better- but he felt like he’d never be able to make true progress in therapy because he’d always be slightly guarded and would never open up fully. Right now, for instance, he knew that she knew exactly why he felt attacked, but she was asking the rhetorical question to get him to express his anger more fully. He knew what she was doing because it was the same tactic he would take with his own patients.

Going along with it, just to express himself for the sake of expressing himself, he said, “I just felt incredibly judged by everyone, like I was guilty till proven innocent. I felt uncomfortable just being here yesterday.”

“Do you feel uncomfortable today?”

“Yes, I do. To a slightly lesser extent, but I feel like I’m… I don’t know… an outcast.”

Adam knew that probably sounded very whiney- like his own patients sometimes sounded- but he already felt better, just from verbalizing how he was feeling.

“Well, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Carol said. “That certainly wasn’t my intention.”

She was backing off, giving him space to continue to vent. She also wanted to reestablish trust in the therapist- patient relationship, to make him feel safe and relaxed.

“As you can imagine, this hasn’t been an easy situation for me to be in,” he said.

“I’ll bet,” she said. “It’s probably bringing up a lot of issues for you.”

He was surprised she was taking the session in this direction so quickly.

“What kind of issues?” he asked.

“Issues of control or lack of control,” she said. “Issues with your family- your current family and your parents. You grew up in the same house you live in now, didn’t you?”

“You’re right.” He hadn’t thought much about this connection to his past that now seemed so obvious. “It is bringing up issues with my parents. It’s a very familiar feeling of being blamed, of being judged.”

“And it’s making you feel like the victim again,” she added.

He’d told her in previous sessions that he was often picked on as a kid and was unpopu lar in elementary school and ju nior high, and they’d talked about how these experiences had scarred him. He remembered that just this morning, with Dana, he’d brought up running away from the bullies in school. There had to be some significance to this.

He told her all about the night of the shooting, mentioning that he had been having the recurring dream about the giant black rat who’d transformed from a female patient when Marissa woke him up. He was able to describe all the events in a very clear, matter- of- fact way, and it felt good to talk about it in a safe setting, where he didn’t feel threatened. It was much different than when he talked to the press and the police, when he felt like he had to choose his words carefully because everything was being scrutinized

He told her the police believed his maid, Gabriela, had been involved in the robbery, and he made sure that he expressed his anger about this properly. He didn’t just tell her he was angry in a detached way. He made sure that he felt the anger, that he was experiencing the anger.

“I can’t believe she was able to deceive all of us for so long,” he said. “I’m usually so perceptive, nothing gets past me. I feel so furious. I feel so wronged.”

This was good- he was expressing himself well, using “I” statements.

“You didn’t know,” Carol said.

“But I feel so hurt by what she did to me,” Adam said. “If I’d just caught on sooner, I could’ve fired her and prevented all of this. They say she was a drug addict, and I don’t know how she was able to keep that a secret. I can always tell when somebody’s lying to me. It’s my best skill.”

“Addicts can be very clever,” she said. He’d said the same thing many times to his own patients.

He went on, describing what had happened after the shooting- how he’d expected to be treated like a hero and was shocked when he saw the way he was being portrayed by the media.

“I know how ridiculous this sounds now,” he said, “but I thought I’d be famous because of this, famous in a good way. I mean, you can’t believe how caught up I got. I thought I’d be the next Dr. Phil. I thought they’d film a movie about my life.”

“It was an exciting feeling,” she said. “It made you feel confident.”

“Yes,” he said, “and my glossophobia subsided, which was a very exciting, seductive feeling, too. Also, I have to admit, I enjoyed the attention. I know that’s childish, that as an adult I should want respect, not attention, but it felt very seductive- and addictive, which is strange for me because I don’t have an addictive personality.”

“It’s easy to feel seduced by your emotions when your self- esteem is low, when you’re unhappy in other aspects of your life. You experienced a psychological high, it was a very powerful feeling. Do you think you don’t get enough respect in your life?”

He knew what she was trying to do. She was challenging him, trying to draw out a defensive response, but he went with it, saying, “Yeah, sometimes. As you know, this can be a thankless profession.”

“Well, your colleagues respect you.”

“I haven’t been so sure about that.”

“You can’t expect people not to feel a little awkward,” Carol said. “It was an unusual situation, and I think everyone handles these sorts of things in their own way.”

He could see her point.

“What about at home?” she asked. “Has your marriage been good lately? Do you feel respected and appreciated?”

He thought about his bickering with Dana and his problems with Marissa.

“No, I don’t,” he said, “and I know I probably haven’t been doing a lot to change that. What happened the other night certainly didn’t help.”

“You said you don’t feel like you did anything wrong that night.”

“I don’t. Well, except for shooting him so many times. I think that was a mistake.”

“Every decision you make can’t be the perfect one, Adam. You can only try to do your best.”

“I know, you’re right,” he said,“but…there’s something else.” He sipped some water, collecting his thoughts, then said, “There’s something… I didn’t tell anyone yet. I didn’t tell the police. I didn’t even tell Dana.”

As a seasoned therapist who’d heard it all, nothing usually shocked Carol, but Adam noticed her growing concern. “Something about the shooting?” she asked.

“Yes,” Adam said.

She was waiting intently for him to continue.

“I didn’t lie to the police about anything,” Adam said. “Everything I told them was entirely truthful, exactly as I remembered it. But I… well, I omitted something.”

He paused again, wondering if he was doing the right thing, starting to tell Carol about this. He wasn’t concerned about her talking to the police- she wouldn’t, couldn’t violate their confidentiality- but he was afraid it could affect their professional relationship. Well, it was too late now, and if you couldn’t tell your therapist about these sorts of things, who could you tell?