Seventy-Seven

“May I help you?”  The young woman inquired, greeting Allegra with a pleasant smile. 

“My name is Allegra Castanelli.  I have an appointment with Rachel.” 

“Of course.  Just sign in right here…”  She pointed to the clipboard on the counter.  “…and fill out these forms.”  Another clipboard was pushed across the counter with a stack of forms affixed to it.

With a barely contained sigh, Allegra gathered up the clipboard and its ream of paper, surveying the small waiting area.  She chose an overstuffed armchair in the corner to complete her lengthy writing assignment.

I can’t believe I’m here to see a counselor.  I AM a counselor.  This is asinine.

Allegra honestly didn’t feel as though this was obstinacy on her part.  She genuinely believed there was no need to waste the time of a professional who had truly ill patients that needed tending to. 

Richie had continued to talk forever in an attempt to sway her perception, but she still firmly denied any need for this kind of help.  She did, however, apologize for her sharp words to him.  The look of hurt that had crossed his face when she denied that he was on her side had stabbed at her, even though he assured her it wasn’t taken personally.  He only wanted what he thought was best for her.

By the time they’d gotten back to Jon’s, Sister Mary had spread the ‘good cheer’ about her mandate, and Dorothea was waiting for Allegra on the front porch of the guest house, determined to put in her two cents.  Allegra gave the pretense of listening, but still refused to call the counselor.   

Dot was pinning Richie with a ‘do something’ expression, when Jon had come seeking his wife.  He actually showed the good sense to refrain from jumping on the bandwagon, saying to Dot, “She knows what she has to do if she wants to work at the Foundation.  Either she will or she won’t.”   Allegra thought he may the one who actually understood.

She could have ignored them all and found another job, and it was sorely tempting.  There was only one flaw with that plan. 

David. 

Considering the day’s events, Allegra had elected to stay back at the guesthouse that evening.  Her defense was tenuous enough without delving into another crowd of strangers that night, risking a repeat performance of the morning’s incident.   She’d fixed a salad and had pulled out her laptop, watching some Bon Jovi talk show appearances on YouTube when Richie called.

He was just checking up on her before the show, and, after some initial niceties, he cleared his throat.  “I know I was pissed at him this morning, but Dave has been wandering around here like a kicked puppy.  Before sound check he asked me half a dozen times if you were really okay.  You should probably talk to him, don’t you think?”

The horror on his face flashed through her mind and she winced, feeling neglectful.  Of course she would talk to him, and she scolded herself for not doing it sooner.   She had been so absorbed with proving her normalcy that she’d forgotten the curly haired victim of her freak-out.   “Oh my gosh, yes, absolutely!  Is he nearby?  Can I talk to him now?”

Within seconds, Richie had located the keyboardist and pushed the phone into his hand. 

“Hello?”  His voice was so subdued, she almost wasn’t sure it was really him.

“David?  How are ya?”

“Hey Legs.  I’m okay, but I’d rather hear how you are.  Did you hurt yourself this morning?”

She’d thought her shoulder was going to protest about the unfamiliar activity, but it had remained remarkably pain-free.  It actually felt more whole than it had since this started, indicating to her that it was time to stop babying it.

“No, not at all!  I’m completely fine except for being incredibly embarrassed and sorry about the whole incident.  You’re okay too, aren’t you?”

“I’m the one who grabbed YOU.  I should be apologizing.”  He took a breath before asking, “Allegra, you know I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you, right?”

His use of her given name caused her an additional twinge of remorse.  She’d come to realize he only used it when he was upset, and she mentally kicked herself, condemning her reflexes.

“Honey, of course you wouldn’t!  It wasn’t your fault.  You couldn’t have known I would react like a Tasmanian devil.” 

“Did YOU know you would?”

It was the first time someone had asked her to acknowledge the minor side effects she may be having.  How did she answer without admitting to the perceived weakness?  “Maybe a little.”

His sigh of frustration rang clearly across the connection.  “Then why didn’t you tell us?  Why won’t you let anyone help?  One simple admission of vulnerability would’ve prevented me from being a stupid ass, when all I wanted to do was show you that I care.”

Her heart pinched and guilt assailed her, as she never dreamed of hurting someone else with her determination to do this on her own.  Especially someone who had treated her as nothing but gold from day one.

“David, you weren’t a stupid ass!  I know you care, and I’m fine.”

“Could’ve fooled me.  In case you didn’t realize it, hugs aren’t supposed to be traumatic, sweetheart.”

That particular phrase played on a continuous loop through her consciousness, stirring feelings of guilt and remorse, until she called the next day to schedule an appointment.  Thankfully, they could fit her in right away, that afternoon in fact, before she changed her mind.

So that’s why she was here.  Guilt, pure and simple.

“Allegra?”  A woman’s voice spoke her name, and she lifted her attention from the forms in her lap.

“Yes, I’m Allegra.”

The woman was in her mid- to late-forties if the fine lines around her eyes were any indication.  She wore a long flowing skirt, made of vibrant colors, topped by a soft tan sweater, and her feet were clad in Birkenstock sandals and socks.   HerThe extremely long mane strawberry blond hair was pulled into a braid, and she pushed her gold, wire-rimmed glasses back up onto her nose before extending her hand.   Her features were pleasant, wearing little – if any – makeup, and lit with a reassuring smile.

“I’m Rachel.  It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Allegra rose from her seat, meeting her hand in greeting. 

“If you’ll follow me, we’ll get acquainted.” 

Mutely doing as requested, she followed Rachel down a short hallway to a small office.  She crossed over to the sofa that Rachel indicated to her, offering her the clipboard as she passed.

“Would you like this paperwork?”

“Sure.”  She accepted the board and sheaf of papers, placing it on the desk and picking up a blank notepad instead.  “I’ll read all of that a bit later.”

I just spent twenty minutes answering questions about my sense of worth and emotions, and she’s not even going to read it?

Rachel tucked one leg under her in the wide, comfortable armchair and regarded Allegra silently.

Taking in her surroundings, Allegra supposed it fit the stereotypical image of what a counselor’s office should be:  Bookshelves filled to bursting, comfortable sofa and chair, a messy desk, and various certificates and diplomas adorning the walls.

“I guess you want to know why I’m here,” Allegra began when the other woman didn’t seem inclined to say anything.

The response was surprising.  “Not really.  I’m more interested in why you think you SHOULDN’T be here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why you shouldn’t be here.”  She liberated an ink pen that was lodged in her braid.  “You think this is a waste of time, right?  I mean your body language is speaking volumes, in case you didn’t know.”

Her respect crept up a notch at the perceptiveness.  “Listen, I don’t mean any disrespect, but I AM a counselor.  I can work through my issues just fine on my own.”

“So you actually admit that you have issues?  That’s great!  Saves us a lot of time.  What would those be?”

Allegra’s eyes darted from Rachel to the floor, to the bookcase, feeling like she’d been unwittingly cornered.  “I… I didn’t mean ISSUES.  I meant that I can handle the things that go on in my life.”

“You’re one of the fortunate few.  I’m envious.”  She rose and prepared to move toward the door.  “Well, then it was nice meeting you.  There’s no point in wasting everyone’s time here, since you evidently have everything under control.”

“Wait… wait a minute.  That can’t be it!”  Allegra mouth gaped.  Surely this woman wasn’t dismissing her that easily out of hand?  “I need your seal of approval to go back to my job.  My employer thinks I need help, and isn’t budging until I’ve been to counseling.”

“Apparently your employer is the only one,” Rachel observed, still making no move to reseat herself.  “Right?  You don’t think you need to be here.  And you seem like a very together woman, so I’m sure no one else has tried to push you into pointless counseling.  I mean, whatever you’ve been through probably isn’t even worth mentioning.”

The women locked eyes, as Rachel waited for her answer. 

Allegra was astounded at her lack of interest in a patient.   She was going to summarily dismiss her at her own word?  And who didn’t think that rape was worth mentioning?   What kind of counselor pushed a patient away before she even knew the problem? 

The light dawned ever so slowly.

Evidently a very good one.  Narrowing her eyes, Allegra acknowledged that Rachel had found the right buttons and pushed them expertly.    She didn’t know how, but the woman had her pegged from the moment they’d met.  Mentally adding another point to the respect column, Allegra decided to bite the bullet.  She had to this, so she may as well be cooperative. 

“That’s not entirely true,” she confessed quietly.  “My boyfriend, friends and family also think I need this.”

“But what about you, Allegra?  Do YOU think you need this?”

A litany of voices paraded through her head.

‘When that many good intentions come at you, there’s some merit behind it.’

‘Hugs aren’t supposed to be traumatic.’

‘She knows what she has to do.’

Shoving all those voices to the side, she waited, diligently seeking out the voice that was hers alone.  The one she’d spent twenty-for hours a day burying ever since Felix had put his hands on her.  The one she didn’t want to let speak, because admitting it made it real.  The one she hadn’t let anyone else hear.    

‘I’m scared.’

She lifted her eyes, speaking softly.  “Maybe.”

A pleased smile stole across Rachel’s features.  “Now ‘maybe’ is something I can work with.”  She finally resumed her seat in the chair, settling the voluminous skirt around her.  Pen and paper in hand, she got down to business.  “Let’s get started, shall we?”