“Before I shot the guy, Sanchez, he said something,” Adam said. “It all happened so fast, it was hard to pro cess it at that moment, but I remembered it afterward. He said… I think he said, ‘Please don’t.’ That’s all I heard, those two words. I still know I did the right thing, because even if he was saying Please don’t kill me or Please don’t shoot me or whatever, there was no way in that situation I should’ve believed him. I mean, I did see him reach for something. It might’ve been his flashlight, but it looked like a gun, and he could’ve shot me. He could’ve shot my whole family.”

“So what exactly do you feel guilty about?”

“I don’t know if guilt is the right word,” he said. “I feel… regret. I feel like I made a mistake.”

“You’ve made mistakes before, haven’t you?”

“None that involved killing somebody.”

“It happens every day, Adam. You think policemen and firemen don’t regret their decisions from time to time? You have to do the right thing and be forthcoming with the police, but you can’t blame yourself, and you can’t let it interfere with other aspects of your life. Besides, you said you thought he had a gun, right?”

“Right,” Adam said.

“So yes, you heard him say those two words, but it happened very quickly, and you don’t know for sure what he was trying to say or why he was saying it. It sounds to me like you’re making a lot of assumptions.”

He was aware that she was just supporting him, that she didn’t actually believe any of this. Still, the pro cess was helping.

“I feel shame about what I did,” he said. “I feel anger. I feel… foolish.”

“Everyone has regrets,” she said. “You don’t have to beat yourself up about it. You had a lot of unexpressed anger, and then an event happened, something beyond your control. Someone broke into your house and you had to make a fast decision, but it was the best decision you could’ve made at the time, under the circumstances.”

“I really need to reparent myself, don’t I?” Adam asked.

The need for reparenting had been a major issue in previous sessions. Carol knew all about his emotionally withholding parents and his related propensity towardself- loathing and self- blaming.

“I think it could be useful to use some of your reparenting techniques,” she said. “Just don’t be so hard on yourself. So maybe you made a mistake, or maybe you didn’t make a mistake. Remember, Adam- you’re allowed to make mistakes once in a while. Every decision you make doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Her advice was fairly generic and, almost verbatim, what he would have said to one of his own patients. Still, it had resonance for Adam and really seemed to hit home. He thought, Every decision you make doesn’t have to be perfect, every decision you make doesn’t have to be perfect, and he experienced a relaxed yet intense buzz, an emotional high he sometimes had after a particularly productive therapy session.

He had two more patients in the afternoon- he was supposed to have three more but had another no- show-and he felt much more effective than he had earlier in the day, much more like his usual self. Whenever any self- doubt crept in he’d think, Every decision you make doesn’t have to be perfect, and he’d feel instantly reassured.

But Adam knew that this was only a temporary ego boost, that he still had major issues to deal with if he wanted keep his self- esteem high. He had to be easier on himself, not criticize himself as much, and- this was key-he had to stop neglecting himself. He was such a people- pleaser, so focused on patients and helping others, that he hadn’t been paying nearly enough attention to his own needs. He had to start taking the advice he gave to his patients every day and apply it to his own life, and this started with his most important personal relationship- his marriage. He hadn’t been expressing himself well to Dana at all lately, and he’d let too much anger and resentment go unresolved.

At the end of the day, when the other therapists had left, he went into his office and closed the door and turned on classical music- Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos- very loud. Then he kneeled in front of the couch and started punching the couch cushion as hard as he could. Physical activity was a great way to vent and relieve stress, and he always suggested that his patients express anger in a safe way, like screaming or punching pillows. Imagining that the cushion was people who had done him wrong, like Gabriela, the reporters from the Post and News, and Grace Williams from New York Magazine, gave his punches some extra oomph.

After about five minutes of good cushion pounding, he felt much more relaxed and ready to do some actual problem solving. One area of his marriage that certainly needed improving was his and Dana’s sex life. They didn’t do it nearly enough, and if he were his own therapist, he would tell his patient to schedule time for sex, make it a priority, and be more creative sexually. So before Adam left the office he called Dana and told her he wanted to make love tonight at ten o’clock.

“Why?” she asked.

Adam wasn’t sure whether she meant why did he want to have sex with her or why at ten o’clock as opposed to eleven or midnight. Deciding to take a less confrontational approach, he said, “Because I love you very much and I miss being close with you.”

Okay, so maybe he was overdoing it a little, but he felt like he was communicating honestly, not apologizing for his emotions.

Later, on his way to the subway, Adam stopped off at a Ricky’s drugstore where he remembered seeing an adult section and bought a sexy cheerleader’s outfit in Dana’s size. Several times she had told him about a fantasy she had of making love while dressed as a cheerleader, but they’d never explored it because he’d never had a cheerleader fantasy himself. That had been selfish of him, to flat- out reject her fantasy. He certainly wasn’t opposed to her dressing as a cheerleader if it was a turn- on for her, and it was wrong of him to have stonewalled her like that.

At home, he noticed that Dana seemed to be in a much better mood than she’d been in this morning and the past couple of days. She was starting to believe that Gabriela had been the second intruder in their house the other night and that the threatening note had been left by some prankster. She was also encouraged by a new theory the police had, that Gabriela may have been killed by a drug dealer she was in debt to and who possibly had nothing to do with Carlos Sanchez.

“I thought she needed the money for her father,” Adam said.

“She did,” Dana said, “but her sister doesn’t think she would’ve robbed a house to pay for her father’s operation, and I don’t believe it either. I know she lied to us about a lot of things, but I can’t imagine her actually coming into our house to rob us unless she was hooked on drugs and needed to pay off a drug dealer.”

This logic made sense to Adam, and he hoped it was a sign that things were on their way to returning to normal.

Dana cooked a nice dinner- chicken cutlets, rice pilaf, a salad- and they ate at the dining room table, finishing the merlot from last night. Marissa was out with her friends in Manhattan, seeing some band, so they had the whole house to themselves. Adam actually couldn’t remember the last time he and Dana had a quiet, romantic dinner alone, and he made sure to ask her a lot of questions about her day and things that were going on with her in general, knowing that in the past she’d had the complaint that he didn’t take enough interest in her.

At one point Dana asked, “Why are you acting so nice?”

Her tone was vaguely accusing, but he answered honestly, “I know I haven’t been the greatest husband in the world lately. I want things to improve around here, that’s all. I’d like it if we made the marriage more of a priority.”

He was purposely trying to use I-statements so she couldn’t interpret anything he was saying as criticism. Her eyes started to tear, but he knew it was because she was so happy, realizing how much he meant to her. He reached across the table, held her hand gently, and said, “Remember our date tonight.”