All of My Soul (21 page)

I sighed when I realized Dr. Raussman had
figured out what no one else had. “Um… maybe a dozen?”

Lincoln leaned forward in his seat and glared
at me but didn’t say anything. Dr. Raussman’s eyebrows rose in
surprise. “You’ve had twelve nightmares in the past month?”

I bit my lips and twisted the tissue in my
hand. “That’s just a guess.”

“How does Lincoln feel about this?”

I looked at him. His face gave nothing away.
“He doesn’t know.”

Dr. Raussman cocked his head at me. “I was
under the impression the two of you were sleeping together.”

I felt my face redden. “We are, but we don’t
spend every night together, and it’s only happened a few times when
we’re in the same bed.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lincoln’s
fists clench tight. This wasn’t going to end well.

The doctor’s pen scratched on his notepad as
he made a note. “So you have more nightmares when you’re sleeping
alone?”

“Yes, but I don’t think that’s what triggers
it.”

He looked up at me. “What do you think
triggers it?”

I shrugged. “Stress. I only get them on
nights when I’m worried about my thesis.” Dr. Raussman stayed
silent as he made more notes on his notepad so I added, “But I
don’t understand why stress over my thesis would cause nightmares
about something that happened so long ago.”

The doctor’s eyes followed my hand as I moved
it to my scarred hip.

“Let’s talk about your scars. Last time we
spoke, you said you still felt insecure over them, despite Lincoln
being okay with them.”

I nodded. “It’s getting easier. I still find
it hard to believe that he isn’t affected by them but I just have
to remind myself that he doesn’t care about them.”

“And you believe him when he tells you he
doesn’t mind your scars?”

“It’s difficult. It’s difficult to believe
that they don’t affect him.”

Lincoln couldn’t take it anymore. “You think
I’m lying?” he asked in a harsh voice.

“Lincoln.” Dr. Raussman scolded him for
speaking.

“No,” I said quickly. “No, I don’t think
you’re lying. It’s just—it’s like when there’s a new movie out, and
everyone is telling you how good it is, and you go see it, and you
think it’s awful? You wonder how anyone could like that movie.
That’s what it feels like.”

Dr. Raussman smiled at my comparison. “So
it’s a matter of taste?”

“I suppose,” I said slowly. “It is getting
easier. It’ll just take some time I think.” I felt like we had
exhausted this topic. I had decided I wasn’t going to let my scars
affect my relationship with Lincoln, and I didn’t feel the need to
piss him off by staying on this topic. He told me I was beautiful
all the time, and I wasn’t going to argue with him even if I didn’t
agree. Really, was it any different than if I said I didn’t like my
nose or my boobs? Some men liked big butts. Some men liked big
thighs. Lincoln didn’t mind my scarred skin.

“All right,” he said as he scribbled a few
more notes. “Let’s talk about why you haven’t told Lincoln about
your nightmares.”

I dropped my head back in frustration. “It
just seemed pointless to tell him. I wasn’t hiding it from him, but
he can’t do anything about it. He would have wanted to fix it, and
not being able to would have made him feel…”

I trailed off and Dr. Raussman looked up from
his notepad. “Jillian?”

Swallowing hard, I realized I sounded just
like Lincoln defending himself when I accused him of hiding the
fact that he had hired a bodyguard from me.

“Shit,” I said. “I just realized I’m a huge
hypocrite.”

Dr. Raussman raised his eyebrows and waited
for me to elaborate.

I looked over at Lincoln and found him
watching me with interest. I let out a long sigh. “We got in a
fight last week.”

“Oh?” Dr. Raussman prompted me to
continue.

“One of the things was because he hired a
bodyguard to follow me and didn’t tell me.”

“And you don’t think you need a
bodyguard?”

“Doc?” Lincoln asked before I could answer.
Dr. Raussman nodded his head giving permission for Lincoln to
speak. “The body guard is nonnegotiable. Do not try to talk her out
of it or convince her she doesn’t need him.”

The doctor smiled in his avuncular way. “I
wouldn’t dream of it, Lincoln. You can relax.” His focus returned
to me. “Do you feel you need a bodyguard, Jillian?”

“I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “Yeah, I
guess I do, but I just wish he would have told me. And I just
realized right now that I have no right to be mad at him if I’m not
telling him things either.”

“Is that something you feel you need to work
on as a couple? Being honest with each other?”

“Lincoln says we need to be a team.”

Dr. Raussman rested one foot on his knee and
tapped his pen against his lips. “Do you disagree?”

God, I hated when he kept drilling like this.
“No,” I said slowly as I looked down at my hands. “But I don’t feel
like we’re a team. I feel like…”

“Like what, Jillian?” Dr. Raussman prompted
me when I trailed off.

“Like… like I’m a little mosquito, and I’m
feeding off him.”

“Jesus, Jillian,” Lincoln said and rolled his
eyes. “Have I ever made you feel that way?”

But before I could respond Dr. Raussman
jumped in. “This isn’t about you, Lincoln.”

Lincoln sat back against the couch, crossed
his arms against his chest, and looked away from me.

The doctor cleared his throat. “That being
said, it is a valid question, Jillian. Has Lincoln ever made you
feel that way?”

“Not directly, no.”

“Indirectly, then?”

I sighed deeply. “I feel very blessed to have
Lincoln in my life. He has done nothing but care for me and love
me. I’ve never had this before.” I waved my hand between Lincoln
and me. “No one has ever come close to making me feel as special as
Lincoln does. I already owe him for giving me things I never
thought I could have. Then he starts buying me things, and it makes
me feel like I need to pay him back even more.”

“Jillian, how—” Lincoln started to speak but
Dr. Raussman cut him off again.

“Lincoln.” He held his index finger up to
warn him. Lincoln swallowed hard, but relented. “Jillian, why do
you feel you need to pay him back for anything? He’s giving these
things freely, correct? Without any strings attached?”

I nodded.

“Then why do you assume he wants to be paid
back?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think he wants to
be paid back. I just feel like I
should
pay him back.”

Dr. Raussman spoke quickly before Lincoln
could say anything. “Let’s look at the situation another way. How’s
your schoolwork going?”

I furrowed my brows at his change in topic.
“It’s good. Stressful, but I present my thesis in a few weeks, and
God willing, I’ll graduate the week after that.”

Lincoln smiled at me for the first time since
we sat down.

“Okay,” the doctor said. “Lincoln, you went
to college, correct? What was your major?”

“Physical Education.”

“Mm-hmm. And how many biology classes did you
take?”

“Just the one that was required for my gen
eds.”

“How many biology classes have you taken,
Jillian?” Dr. Raussman asked me with a small smile.

I shook my head and shrugged. “Countless. I
would have no idea how many to guess.”

“Do you feel Lincoln is less worthy of you
because he hasn’t taken as many?”

I gasped in horror. “No! Absolutely not. He’s
still smart. He understands everything about my thesis.”

“Doesn’t seem like he would though, does it?
Big dumb hockey player whose been hit in the head one too many
times. Can’t even take any real college classes. His fluff degree
is basically worthless.”

“Geez, thanks, Doc,” Lincoln said, but he
didn’t sound too upset.

“I see your point. You don’t need to keep
insulting him.” I crossed my arms over my chest again.

“What is my point, Jillian?”

“If education was valued as highly as the
ability to play a sport, Lincoln would be the inadequate one in
this relationship.”

“And yet, you would still love him,
right?”

“Of course.”

Lincoln stretched his arm out and grasped one
of mine again and held it tight.

“Would you feel he owed you in any way? Or
maybe I should ask,
do
you feel he owes you in any way since
brains
are
valued as highly as athletic ability?”

“No. No, of course not.”

“Why not? This is obviously an area where you
excel and he doesn’t. As a scholar myself, I could be judging you
for not being with someone at an equal intelligence level.”

“It’s not the same. If I were doing his
biology homework for him, then I could understand your
comparison.

“May I speak?” Lincoln looked at the doctor
and waited for an answer. Dr. Raussman smiled and nodded. “If you
got an amazing job that paid well, and I suddenly, God forbid,
became unable to play wouldn’t you support me?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I feel like
you’re both ganging up on me.”

“Fair enough,” Dr. Raussman replied and held
his hands up in a surrendering motion. “I’m not technically a
couples therapist, anyway.” His smile was friendly, though. “Let’s
go back to your nightmares. Are they always the same?”

I nodded. “Yes. I’m always standing outside
Lincoln’s house, and when I realize it’s on fire, I’m suddenly
inside and I can’t get away from the flames.”

“And I’m not there to help her,” Lincoln
quickly added.

Dr. Raussman raised his eyebrows. “Why did
you leave that part out, Jillian?”

I shifted in my seat and gripped Lincoln’s
hand tighter. “Because I know hearing that makes him feel like he’s
not here for me, which couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

“But how does it make you feel?”

“In the dream or after I wake up?”

“After you wake up.”

“I feel… bad.” I didn’t know how else to
describe it. “I feel like a horrible person for dreaming that my
boyfriend abandoned me.”

“When he leaves for away games, do you feel
abandoned?”

“No! No, not at all,” I said emphatically.
“And I don’t want him to think I do. I don’t know why I’m having
these nightmares.”

“You think they’re stress related,
though.”

I shrugged. “It’s the only thing I can think
of.”

Dr. Raussman stood up and walked to the
window behind his desk, looking out. “I’m going to be honest here.
I’ve never given much credence to dream interpretation. Freud would
tell you the fire could symbolize sexual desire. Jung would say
whatever you assign the fire to symbolize is correct. More recent
research maintains it doesn’t symbolize anything; dreams are just
electronic impulses firing in your brain when you are asleep.” He
turned toward us with a serious look. “I think you’re on the right
track when you say stress causes them. Your brain is reverting to
previous stressful situations for a clue as to how to deal with
your current stress level. If you really wanted to delve deep into
the meaning, I would say your brain is replacing your father with
Lincoln.”

I scrunched my face up in disgust, and Dr.
Raussman let out a laugh at my reaction. He waved his hand,
dismissing my incorrect conclusion.

“Not like that. Not like that. I don’t mean
in an Oedipal way.” He laughed again before clearing his throat.
“Your father was a good man, correct?

I nodded as a twinge of sadness went through
me, like it always did when I thought about him. “He was a great
father.”

“He loved you? Supported you? Cared for you
and your family?”

I nodded again. “Yes, of course.”

“Until you lost him in the fire. A fire you
also suffered through. Physically and psychologically, it was a
time of great stress for your body. You’re currently going through
another time of great stress, although I would hope it’s not as
bad.” He gave me a small smile. “Lincoln is now the person in your
life you associate with love and support. It’s possible in your
dreams your brain has replaced your father with Lincoln. I don’t
feel you have any hidden abandonment issues or anything. It’s
simple transference.”

“My brain connects times of stress with
losing someone?”

Dr. Raussman nodded. “Yes, but not just any
someone. It didn’t assign one of your siblings or your niece. It
chose Lincoln. I think that’s very telling, don’t you?”

I nodded and looked up at Lincoln. “He’s the
most important person in my life.”

Lincoln’s eyes locked with mine, and I
shivered as I saw so many emotions written on his face. Love.
Concern. Pride. And desire. Oh yes, there was definitely desire
there.

I inhaled deeply as I relaxed. He was the
most important person in my life, and I was relieved to hear I
wasn’t subconsciously worried he would leave me. My brain was
misinterpreting my stress as a sign that I would lose the person I
loved the most. It was almost reassuring in a weird way.

Dr. Raussman cleared his throat. “Honestly, I
don’t put too much stock in dream interpretation. I wouldn’t worry
too much about the meaning behind yours. It’s seems like it’s just
your body’s way of processing events. I am concerned with the
frequency of them, though. Especially if they are causing you to
lose sleep. I can prescribe you something to help you sleep without
dreaming.”

“Aren’t sleeping pills addicting?” Lincoln
asked immediately.

Dr. Raussman’s eyes flicked to Lincoln’s. “I
appreciate your concern, Lincoln, and I don’t mean any offense, but
I wouldn’t prescribe them if I didn’t think they were safe. And
it’s Jillian’s decision if she takes them or not.”

I didn’t even care at this point whether he
prescribed something or not. I just wanted to run home as fast as
possible so I could be alone with Lincoln. I wanted to show him how
important he was to me. But Lincoln continued to argue with the
doctor.