May 13, 2008
San Francisco
The office was quiet except for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall.
Steve sat on the couch with his hands clasped together, his fingers twisting slightly against one another.
Across from him, Dr. Fields sat in a chair with a notebook resting lightly on her lap.
A window behind her looked out over the street. Cars passed slowly below, their movement muted by the glass.
For a long moment neither of them spoke.
Dr. Fields finally broke the silence.
"You've told me a lot about your life here," she said gently. "Your work. Your apartment. Your friends."
Steve nodded faintly.
"But there's still a part of your life you avoid talking about."
Steve's eyes drifted toward the window.
He didn't answer.
Dr. Fields waited.
"That part of your life," she continued calmly, "is where the trauma lives."
Steve rubbed his hands together.
"I remember pieces," he said quietly.
His voice sounded distant, as if the words had traveled a long way to reach the room.
"Sounds. The station. The hospital."
He swallowed.
"Everything else feels... blurred."
Dr. Fields nodded slowly.
"That's not unusual," she said. "Your mind did what it needed to do in order to survive."
Steve looked down at his hands.
"But the memories don't disappear," she continued. "They stay in the nervous system."
He shifted slightly on the couch.
"And when we avoid them long enough," she said gently, "they begin to control how we live."
Steve let out a quiet breath.
"I try not to think about it," he said.
"I know," Dr. Fields replied.
She leaned forward slightly.
"But avoiding the memory doesn't actually make it disappear."
The ticking clock filled the silence again.
"If we never face what happened," she continued, "you'll stay caught in the same cycle."
Steve frowned slightly.
"What cycle?"
Dr. Fields spoke carefully.
"You avoid the places that remind you of the trauma."
Steve nodded slowly.
"You avoid the memories."
Another nod.
"And because of that, the memory never becomes part of your past. It stays stuck in the present."
Steve stared at the floor.
"So what am I supposed to do?" he asked quietly.
Dr. Fields rested her hands together.
"We start small."
Steve looked up.
"There are places connected to that time in your life," she said.
He said nothing.
"Places you haven't returned to."
Steve's jaw tightened slightly.
She spoke softly.
"One of those places is the park."
Steve immediately looked away.
The room went quiet again.
"You don't have to stay long," Dr. Fields said.
"You don't even have to say anything."
Steve's hands tightened together.
"But going there," she continued, "will tell your mind something important."
He glanced at her.
"That the memory belongs to the past."
Steve sat very still.
"You survived it," she said gently.
The words hung in the air.
Outside the window a bus passed slowly down the street.
After a long time Steve finally spoke.
"I haven't been there in seven years."
Dr. Fields nodded.
"That's why it's a good place to begin."
Steve leaned back slightly, his shoulders heavy.
The idea sat in his mind like a stone.
Finally he gave a small, uncertain nod.
Dr. Fields offered a quiet smile.
"That's enough for today."