Beneath the Tombstone (The Tombstone Series) (3 page)

Jason
felt like he’d wandered off into a page of history as he walked through the
front door of the old, red brick office building. Antique wallpaper wrapped the
room in a golden glow and wine-colored lace curtains draped the windows, giving
the room an elegant touch. A claw-foot couch and several chairs sat uniquely
arranged around the edges of an enormous Persian rug that covered most of the
waiting room’s hardwood floor. Small bronze sculptures of former leaders,
ranging from Alexander the Great to Winston Churchill, sat on small tables
scattered around the room.

He sat
down beside the image of Churchill, giving the small statue an uneasy glance.
Then, with a sigh, he sank back into the couch and once more began thinking
about the previous night and the harsh things Misty had said. Why’d she have to
blow up like that anyways? Sure, he shouldn’t have gotten another credit card
without her almighty permission, but still, that didn’t justify her emotionally
over-charged reaction. What had changed? Where was the woman he had fallen in
love with, and what was the best way to vanquish the demonic spirit that had
taken her place? These were some of the questions Jason had; questions he hoped
to find answers to before leaving the fancy old building he was in. He had
decided to take Misty’s last words of sarcastic advice… not for himself, of
course. She was obviously the crazy one.

Across
the room there was an open doorway that led towards the back of the building. O
n the right side of the opening hung a sign that read,
Dr.
Throckmorton, psychologist - Student of the human mind.
Jason swallowed
hard and wondered if the good doctor had any idea how intimidating those few
words sounded. Combine that with all the great men that stared down their noses
at him from around the room, and Jason was feeling downright intimidated and
jittery. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Jason
Hathaway,” the receptionist called out.

Hearing
the familiar sound of his own name startled Jason. Snapping to attention a bit
too abruptly, he called back, “Here!” as if he thought she was doing roll-call.

The
receptionist, who was a middle aged woman, gave a sympathetic yet slightly
condescending smile, observing him over the top of her glasses. Her gaze seemed
to promise that he’d come to the right place for help, hope, and healing of
whatever mental disorder plagued his little mind. “The doctor will see you
know,” she spoke softly then smiled again, holding it several seconds longer
than Jason deemed necessary, just to ensure her snobbish sympathy didn’t go
unnoticed.

Embarrassed,
Jason wanted to run for the door leading outside but, instead, he composed
himself, rose from his chair and headed down the long hall towards the back of
the building. There was a door dead ahead that bore the doctor’s name, so Jason
headed for it, wondering if he should knock or just go in. Not wanting to
appear too bold or too timid, he cracked the door open a bit before giving a
little knock.

“Come
in,” a warm voice responded.

Swinging
the door inwards revealed a chubby-faced man, who appeared to be in his
mid-forties, rising from a chair behind his desk. A jolly smile was on his
lips, and there was just something about him, before he even spoke, that caused
Jason to be drawn to him.

“Jason,”
the doctor greeted enthusiastically as he strode forward, hand outstretched
like he was welcoming an old friend into his home. “It’s good to meet you. My
name is Dr. Tomas Throckmorton, but for you I can be just plain Tomas.”

“I’m,”
Jason started to introduce himself but stopped when he realized the doctor had
called him by name, “happy to meet you,” he recovered nicely. Accepting the
doctor’s hand, he received a fervent shake and hard squeeze.

In
complete contrast to the waiting room, the doctor’s office was very modern.
Warm soothing colors flowed together around the room, and soft light, glowing
from several lamps, brought it all to life.

“Would
you like to do this the old fashion way, with you stretched out on the couch,
or would you prefer the chairs?” the doctor asked, waving a hand toward two
leather chairs facing each other with a coffee table in between.

“Chairs,”
Jason responded. “I spent all last night on a couch.” Dr. Throckmorton raised
an eyebrow, seeming to ask why anyone would want to do such a thing. Jason let
out a frustrated blast of air then said, “I wasn’t welcome in bed with my wife,
Misty.”

“Ouch,”
the doctor said, wrinkling up his forehead like Jason’s pain was his own. “That
doesn’t sound like a comfortable situation.”

“No,
it wasn’t. Not at all,” Jason replied with a worn sigh as they sat down. “I’d
really like to never do it again. Can you make that happen? – You know, maybe
get me some quick answers as to what’s wrong with her?” The doctor raised an
eyebrow as he studied Jason, like he thought his client might be joking,
prompting Jason to add, “This visit is for her, not me. She’s been acting
strange here lately.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe if today goes good, I can
try to get her to come with me sometime.”

Realizing
his client was serious, Dr. Throckmorton cleared his throat and readjusted in
his seat.  “So what caused the, um, the fall-out that led to you sleeping
on the couch?” he asked.

“I
really have no idea,” Jason replied with an honest-to-goodness dumbfounded look
on his face. “Every little thing that I do wrong, she just loses it.”

“Well,
tell me a little bit of the history that you two share,” Doctor Throckmorton
instructed. “Give me some insight. It will help us get to the root of your
problem.”

“It’s
a long story,” Jason cautioned, his voice low and somber.

“Hey,
I’ve got all the time you can afford,” Tomas responded with a smile.

“All
right then,” Jason sighed, giving a little smile of his own, “but I warn you,
this isn’t the kind of story that starts with ‘once upon a time,’ and ends with
‘and they both lived happily ever after.’”

“That’s
all right,” Dr. Throckmorton chuckled. “If everyone was living happily ever
after, I’d go broke.”

Jason
chuckled a bit, finally beginning to let his guard down. “Okay then,” he
sighed, absentmindedly allowing himself to confide in this man who was
practically a stranger. “Where do I begin?”

“How
about at the beginning,” the doctor prompted. “How and where did you meet your
wife?”

Jason
leaned back in the leather chair and let his mind go back to the roots of their
relationship. “Misty grew up in the
Cañon
City area on
a farm,” he began. “After graduating from high school, she moved down here to
Pueblo to go to the community college. Let’s see,” he sighed thoughtfully, “she
started waitressing at an Italian food place down on the River Walk – where I,
by the way, became a
very
regular customer. The food was great but the
service was delicious… if you know what I mean,” he added with a twinkle in his
eye. “I tried and tried to get up the nerve to ask her for a date or phone
number or something, but I just couldn’t. I’d act real cute and flirt. She’d
laugh but, then again, part of her job was to act charmed by stupid people.”

He
shook his head and chuckled. “Then my day came. She was walking by and, as
usual, I was doing my best not to gawk, when she somehow tripped – I’m not even
sure how – but she fell, dumping a half-eaten meal all over me. I mean, I had
spaghetti on my head, peach tea and ice down my shirt and a half-eaten slice of
pizza in my lap.” Laughing, Jason shook his head like he still couldn’t believe
it.

“And
how did that make you feel?” the doctor asked… then grinned, posing a
professional question in a jesting manner.

Laughing,
Jason replied, “I’ve never been so happy. Of all the people she could have
spilt that mess on, I was lucky enough that she spilt it on me.”

Dr.
Throckmorton’s smile grew, showing that he was enjoying the story beyond a
professional level.

“Awe
man, she felt terrible,” Jason went on. “She got out one of her table rags and started
trying to clean off my face with it, and the whole time I was trying not to
laugh. I know this makes me a terrible, manipulative person, but I told her the
only way I’d forgive her would be if she went on a date with me. Well, she did
and, as they say, the rest is history.”

The
doctor sat a moment, obviously intrigued by the story before he leaned forward.
“Well, clearly that isn’t the end of the story or you wouldn’t be here,” he
spoke solemnly.

Jason
let out a troubled sigh. “Yeah,” he agreed, rubbing the surface of the chair
nervously with his thumb. “I guess no one comes here to tell you about what a
great life they’re having, huh?”

“Nope,”
the doctor said before falling silent.

Several
moments passed before Jason’s desire to tell someone about his problems,
combined with the increasingly awkward silence, finally prompted him to speak.
“Well, um, things went great for a while,” he spoke uneasily. “We dated for a
few years. I asked her to marry me. She said yes.” He paused for a moment,
shifting in his chair before adding, “We had a great time for a while. It was…
actually it still is just the two of us.”

Jason
sighed like he dreaded even bringing up the subject. “But over the last few
years she’s been talking kids,” he said, a bit of frustration seeping into his
tone. “I’m not ready for that. Not sure I’ll ever be. I never thought I’d make
a good dad, but yesterday, at my nephew’s ball game, the kid and I actually had
a pretty cool time together. I was beginning to have doubts about my no kids
policy, but looking back on what happened last night, I know I’m not father
material. When I came home from the kid’s ball game she,” he paused for a
moment, trying to word exactly what she’d done, “she just,” he shook his head,
“basically she attacked me.”

The
doctor raised an eyebrow. “Verbally,” Jason assured him.

“And
what brought that about?” Dr. Throckmorton asked calmly.

“I
have no idea,” Jason sighed. “None at all.”

The
doctor just stared at him as if he was waiting for something… perhaps the
truth. Finally, Jason sighed and threw up his hands before admitting, “I get
one little credit card without asking for her permission, and you’d think I
slapped her mother.” Jason thought for moment then gave a satisfied chuckle as
he added, “Truth be told I’ve wanted to do that very thing on several
occasions.” The doctor gave an amused smile. “Anyways,” Jason said, getting
back on track. “It was just a little communication breakdown, but she goes off
the deep end on me.”

There
was a brief moment of silence before the doctor leaned forward in his chair.
“So what exactly did your wife say in your ‘little communication breakdown’
that prompted you to come see me today?”

Jason
just gave him the simple honest answer. “She told me I should.”

A
surprised look crossed Dr. Throckmorton’s face, along with a slight smile he
struggled to hide. He seemed to be finding humor in Jason’s misfortune. Trying
to stifle a chuckle and sound professional the doctor asked, “And what brought
on your wife’s not so subtle suggestion that you might be, um, what shall we
say? – crazy?”

Jason
smiled sheepishly as he replied, “She said she was through trying to figure me
out.”

Dr.
Throckmorton had managed to keep his facial expressions under semi-control up
until that point, but with Jason’s last words he snorted as the strain of
holding back his amusement became too much to bear. For several moments, he
bounced up and down with silent laughter.

Finally,
when he got things back under a bit of control, in a voice straining to sound
normal, the doctor asked, “And that is when she suggested that you needed
mental help?”

“Yep,”
Jason responded, rubbing his chin and slightly shaking his head, still having a
hard time believing she’d go as far as to imply he was mentally ill. Then,
growing tired of beating around the bush, Jason cut to the chase. “So judging
by the information I’ve given you, what would you say is wrong with her?”

The
doctor cocked an eyebrow and his voice turned sober as he said, “I’ll need more
information before I give you any idea where to begin, Jason,” he said. Then
looking his client in the eye he added, “One thing you must keep in mind is the
possibility, improbable as it may seem, that you share in the blame.”

Jason
hadn’t considered that yet, and if the doctor could have seen the way Misty had
acted, he wouldn’t be so skeptical about where to assign the blame either.
“Sure,” he responded with a shrug. “I’ll try to keep an open mind.”

They
each sat a few moments in silence, processing what they’d discussed before the
doctor decided to lead the conversation to a place and time that Jason most
certainly didn’t want to go. “Let’s turn the dial back a few more years,
Jason,” Dr. Throckmorton instructed. “Tell me about your childhood.”

Jason
sat in silence a moment longer as the memories flooded in. He didn’t want to go
there, didn’t want to remember… but some demons could not be kept at bay
forever. He had succeeded in doing so for years – but here and now, for some
reason, it all began to bubble to the surface.