Dawn of Eve by MJ Howson (best ereader for students .txt) 📕

The dreams started after the miscarriage.” Dawn sighed and rubbed her temples. “I know. It sounds crazy. Right?”

“Not at all. If you ask me, dreams like those are your mind’s way of dealing with trauma. Maybe even guilt.” Joe looked around the plaza and then knelt down to be closer to Dawn. “I remember the first time I had someone die on my watch.”

“Here?” Dawn looked around in shock. “When?”

“Not here.” Joe let out a deep baritone chuckle over Dawn’s confusion. “Decades ago. I was in my twenties. I’d been an EMT for less than a week. We got a call about someone having a seizure. AIDS. Back then, a lot of it was unknown, you know? Those early days were scary. So, we get to this apartment and go inside. The guy was so frail. Barely any meat on him. But he was still alive. We got him on the stretcher, but by the time we rolled him outside, he . . . he was dead.”

“Why would that haunt you? There was nothing you could have done.”

“As soon as we arrived, we sat in that ambulance and argued for ten minutes. I didn’t want to go inside. I didn’t want to risk getting sick. Stupid, right?” Joe lowered his head and sighed. “That man’s partner yelled at us. Blamed us for taking too long. I got home that night and cried myself to sleep. All I could think was that if I’d gotten to him sooner, maybe he would’ve survived. Would . . . would those ten minutes have made a difference? I’ll never know.”

“And that . . . that gave you nightmares?”

“Yes, ma’am. For weeks. I’d wake up hearing his partner screaming his name. Carl! Carl!” Joe put a comforting hand on Dawn’s shoulder. “Time heals all wounds. Those dreams will disappear. You’ll get through this. I’m sure of it.”

“My therapist could learn a lesson or two from you.” Dawn squeezed Joe’s hand and smiled. “You’re a good man, Joe.”

“I just call them like I see them.” Joe stood up and stretched his back. “Are you headed there now? To see your doctor?”

“Yes.” Dawn grabbed her coffee and pastry bag and stood up. “It’s been three weeks since my last session. I’m supposed to go more often. But, honestly, I’m not getting much out of them.”

“Give it time. The doctor’s the expert.”

“You sound like my Jacob.” Dawn sighed as she thought back to the birthday dinner five days ago. “I’m doing this for him. For us. I want to get better. I want these nightmares to end.”

“They will. You take care of yourself, Miss Easton.”

“Thank you, Joe.”

∞∞∞

Dr. Cole adjusted his eyeglasses as he studied the notes from his last session–number six–with Dawn from last month. They’d ended the session with her speaking fondly of the nanny who ran the household while her parents worked all day. All his questions about her mother had been deflected. After her father’s death, Dawn saw little of her mother. Eventually, her mother moved away.

The ticking clock above the door showed the time as 11:43 a.m. Dawn’s three-week gap from her last session had annoyed him, and her lack of openness seemed to only slow her progress. Her body language throughout the session had alternated between defensive and depressed.

The notepad on the doctor’s desk read Easton-D 9/6/19 #7 across the top. He’d taken very few notes. The nearby recorder whirred loudly. Dr. Cole’s eyes settled on the last thing he’d written - Nanny as mother?

The windows in his office were cracked open, allowing a cool breeze to waft through his office. The fresh air helped alleviate the dusty smell of the room. Dawn was seated across from him, pensively twirling the belt on her raincoat. Dawn had removed it upon arrival, but mid-session began complaining about the temperature in the room. Despite her angst, her pale complexion made her appear lifeless as always.

“Are those new cufflinks?” Dawn asked.

“My wife got them for me last weekend.” Dr. Cole held his arm upright so that Dawn could get a better look at them. “At your recommendation.”

“I told you topaz was a good color for you.”

“You did. Thank you for the suggestion.” Dr. Cole smiled and nodded. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to your nanny.”

“Oh. Sure. Well, she . . . she was a wonderful caretaker.”

“Growing up, did you see her as a replacement for your mother?”

“A replacement?”

“You said your parents spent most of their time at work.” Dr. Cole quietly read his scratchy penmanship to himself. When done, he looked up and said, “Sometimes your parents would get home after you were asleep. So, you had days where you would never see them.”

“I . . . I suppose.” Dawn lowered her head and stared at her hands. “To be honest, I don’t remember.”

“Did you resent their absence?”

“Resent my parents? No. Like I said last time, I was given everything I ever wanted growing up.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Dawn shook her head and sighed, nervously taking the sapphire pendant around her neck into her fingers.

“I . . . I don’t understand these questions, doctor. What do these have to do with my depression? My nightmares?”

“I think your desire for motherhood, and fear of having another miscarriage, is what’s preventing these dreams from going away. You want the nightmares to end, don’t you?”

“Of course. That’s what brought me here.”

“So, we need to understand the root cause. Why is this loss, your fifth miscarriage, so much harder for you to accept than the other four?”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

Dawn folded her arms, turned her head, and stared out the window. Her lower lip started to quiver. Dr. Cole instinctively slid the box of tissues to the edge of his desk. Dawn reluctantly took one and wiped her eyes.

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” Dawn asked. “To get through my postpartum. I never felt this depressed after the first four. The difference this time is Jacob.”

Dr. Cole smiled