licked her lips and thought for
a moment, conscious of her friend's intent gaze and delicate psyche. Should she
tell the truth? Would it hurt Claudia's feelings? Was it okay to contradict
her?
"Well, to be honest, I don't think
that's exactly what I said. Or at least, that's not what I meant to say."
Claudia lifted her eyebrows, but Melanie hurried on. "I think I'd make the
same decision today, not to tell Claudia or my parents. I didn't want to tell
anyone about the baby. Sometimes I thought I would like to talk to Claudia so
that I could unburden myself, but I didn't, because I thought it was the wrong
thing to do."
Claudia sat up, startled. "Really?
The wrong thing to do?" she rejoined sharply. Some part of her cautioned
her not to continue, but she did anyway. "Don't you think I had a right to
know?"
"You had a right to know? About my
pregnancy? Why?"
"Well, don't you think you owed me?
I was your best friend."
Melanie glanced at the doctor, hoping
for some sort of help, but failed to find it in Dr. Phillips' impassive
expression.
"Well, no. I don't think I owed
you. I love you Claudia, of course, but it wasn't really your business.
Obviously, if the pregnancy had continued I would have talked to you about it,
but I miscarried. The whole thing was just painful and horrible."
Silence.
"It wasn't just that I didn't talk
to you – I didn't talk to anyone," Melanie added.
"You talked to your cousin,"
Claudia spat.
"I had to," Melanie countered defensively.
"She had a car. She could take me to the clinic."
"Hmm." Claudia looked out the
window at the silver maple tree, its leaves trembling. She concentrated on the
tree. You would think age would have brought Melanie maturity and perspective,
but it evidently hadn't.
Dr. Phillips waited for almost a full
minute before asking, "Are you okay to continue, Claudia?"
"Yes, of course."
"Do you want to share what you were
thinking just now?"
Claudia turned to Melanie. She didn't trust
herself to look in her eyes, so she stared at her forehead. "I was feeling
ashamed of myself. I was thinking how irrational I've been. I know I have
trouble with boundaries. I'm sorry."
"That's okay," Melanie
ventured tentatively, not sure she could be relieved yet. "I'm sorry the
incident caused you so much anxiety."
"Well, that's not your fault,
Melanie. Obviously." Claudia smiled. It made Melanie feel cold.
"Okay, good then," Dr. Philips
purred, pleased that Claudia had shown an awareness of her motivations, and
perhaps had demonstrated a bit of empathy as well. "Now, just to wrap
things up, what did you finally do with those notes? Or, more to the point, I
suppose, what did you do with what you learned from them?"
Claudia looked to the ceiling, searching
her memory, before shrugging. "Nothing, really. After I took them I just
put them in my drawer. I guess you could say I punished myself with them. The
letters were a daily reminder that I was a rotten friend, that I'd betrayed
Melanie's trust."
"Did you ever let the teacher know
you'd taken them?"
"No."
"Why didn't you throw them
away?"
"I didn't think it was right to
throw them away."
"Why?"
"They weren't mine, of
course."
Melanie, who had been listening
intently, interrupted the discussion between the doctor and her friend,
"Claudia, do you still have them?"
"What?"
"The notes. Do you still have
them?"
Claudia's gaze snapped back to Melanie.
"No, of course not. Why? Do you want them?"
The expression on Claudia's face was so
severe that Melanie felt afraid.
"Well, if you still had them
–" she began, but Claudia suddenly unleashed a violent torrent of tears.
"Listen, what do you want me to
say? I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Go ahead and hate me! I told you you would!"
Melanie looked to Dr. Phillips in panic,
but the doctor gestured to her to just allow Claudia to cry for a few minutes;
sometimes these outbursts were purgative and allowed the patient to find some
relief.
In this circumstance the tears didn't
abate with time,
a moment, conscious of her friend's intent gaze and delicate psyche. Should she
tell the truth? Would it hurt Claudia's feelings? Was it okay to contradict
her?
"Well, to be honest, I don't think
that's exactly what I said. Or at least, that's not what I meant to say."
Claudia lifted her eyebrows, but Melanie hurried on. "I think I'd make the
same decision today, not to tell Claudia or my parents. I didn't want to tell
anyone about the baby. Sometimes I thought I would like to talk to Claudia so
that I could unburden myself, but I didn't, because I thought it was the wrong
thing to do."
Claudia sat up, startled. "Really?
The wrong thing to do?" she rejoined sharply. Some part of her cautioned
her not to continue, but she did anyway. "Don't you think I had a right to
know?"
"You had a right to know? About my
pregnancy? Why?"
"Well, don't you think you owed me?
I was your best friend."
Melanie glanced at the doctor, hoping
for some sort of help, but failed to find it in Dr. Phillips' impassive
expression.
"Well, no. I don't think I owed
you. I love you Claudia, of course, but it wasn't really your business.
Obviously, if the pregnancy had continued I would have talked to you about it,
but I miscarried. The whole thing was just painful and horrible."
Silence.
"It wasn't just that I didn't talk
to you – I didn't talk to anyone," Melanie added.
"You talked to your cousin,"
Claudia spat.
"I had to," Melanie countered defensively.
"She had a car. She could take me to the clinic."
"Hmm." Claudia looked out the
window at the silver maple tree, its leaves trembling. She concentrated on the
tree. You would think age would have brought Melanie maturity and perspective,
but it evidently hadn't.
Dr. Phillips waited for almost a full
minute before asking, "Are you okay to continue, Claudia?"
"Yes, of course."
"Do you want to share what you were
thinking just now?"
Claudia turned to Melanie. She didn't trust
herself to look in her eyes, so she stared at her forehead. "I was feeling
ashamed of myself. I was thinking how irrational I've been. I know I have
trouble with boundaries. I'm sorry."
"That's okay," Melanie
ventured tentatively, not sure she could be relieved yet. "I'm sorry the
incident caused you so much anxiety."
"Well, that's not your fault,
Melanie. Obviously." Claudia smiled. It made Melanie feel cold.
"Okay, good then," Dr. Philips
purred, pleased that Claudia had shown an awareness of her motivations, and
perhaps had demonstrated a bit of empathy as well. "Now, just to wrap
things up, what did you finally do with those notes? Or, more to the point, I
suppose, what did you do with what you learned from them?"
Claudia looked to the ceiling, searching
her memory, before shrugging. "Nothing, really. After I took them I just
put them in my drawer. I guess you could say I punished myself with them. The
letters were a daily reminder that I was a rotten friend, that I'd betrayed
Melanie's trust."
"Did you ever let the teacher know
you'd taken them?"
"No."
"Why didn't you throw them
away?"
"I didn't think it was right to
throw them away."
"Why?"
"They weren't mine, of
course."
Melanie, who had been listening
intently, interrupted the discussion between the doctor and her friend,
"Claudia, do you still have them?"
"What?"
"The notes. Do you still have
them?"
Claudia's gaze snapped back to Melanie.
"No, of course not. Why? Do you want them?"
The expression on Claudia's face was so
severe that Melanie felt afraid.
"Well, if you still had them
–" she began, but Claudia suddenly unleashed a violent torrent of tears.
"Listen, what do you want me to
say? I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Go ahead and hate me! I told you you would!"
Melanie looked to Dr. Phillips in panic,
but the doctor gestured to her to just allow Claudia to cry for a few minutes;
sometimes these outbursts were purgative and allowed the patient to find some
relief.
In this circumstance the tears didn't
abate with time,
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