Page 22 of Across the Universe

“I can’t imagine you’d do it any other way.”

Dr. Sheinbaum gives a wry smile before dropping the hammer. “Tell me about the guilt you’re carrying around for leaving her.”

Bill feels like he’s taken a blow to the chest. He rears back. “I feel guilty that she got pregnant. I feel guilty that the baby didn’t live. There are times I feel guilty that I agreed with her parents and put her in a residential facility. And I feel some guilt about starting over and building a new life while she was trapped in the hell of her own mind.”

“Ah,” Dr. Sheinbaum jots something on her notepad and then rests her elbow on her desk. She looks back at Bill. “Essentially, that’s survivor’s guilt. You feel bad that she couldn’t make it through the same things that you did. Not only did she have to go through the physical pain of pregnancy, and the pain of losing the pregnancy, but the emotional heft of it weighed on her so heavily that it exacerbated her already agitated mental state and rendered her unable to live independently.”

“Sure, you could say that. I do feel guilty sometimes that I’m here and that I have three healthy children and a wife who is able to function and do all of the things that Margaretwantedto do, but I feel even guiltier that she died alone.”

“There’s a lot here, Bill, and carrying that amount of guilt around with you each day can do really interesting things to how the brain functions. You basically have to form a separate warehouse in your mind to store all of those feelings—a place where you can turn out the lights and lock the door when you need to, just so you can get through the days. But that doesn’t mean the stuff you’ve locked inside is sitting in there quietly, minding its own business. Instead, it’s pounding on the door, it’s hollering for your attention, and it’s wreaking havoc on your nervous system. It can be bad for your sleep, your circulation, your heart… we need to address the guilt and in doing so, we might even find a way for you to handle all the other things that are trying to beat down the doors in your mind.”

Bill takes this in; it sounds like a legitimate way to describe the things he feels. “Even my feelings about the war?”

“Even those. Sure.” Dr. Sheinbaum puts the sharp pencil behind her ear as she laces her fingers together on the desk once more. “If you’re willing to open up, Bill, we can address basically anything you want to. I can give you tools to manage the things that creep into your days and pull your focus away from what’s important.”

“Do you think it will help with my marriage and my work?”

“Absolutely. I think any sort of reflection and willingness to face—well, I hate to use the term ‘demons,’ as it has such a negative connotation—but our darknesses, is a positive step towards improving not just ourselves, but our relationships. Even our performance at work. It touches every part of us: marriage, parenthood, friendships, career, and just general happiness.”

“It’s hard though,” Bill says. “Talking about some of these things.”

“Of course. There are many difficult things that I’m asking you to bring to the surface. But you’re doing them. You’re here, and you’re doing the work, and that’s going to pay off.”

Bill puts his hands on his knees and stands just as Dr. Sheinbaum pushes her chair back and stands up as well. “You’re ready to call it a day?” she asks him with a laugh.

Bill taps the face of his tank watch with one finger. “Our time is up.”

Dr. Sheinbaum smiles with amusement. “Yes, Bill, it is. Until next week.”

“Do I have an assignment or something I need to work on before next week?”

Dr. Sheinbaum shifts her weight from one foot to the other as she regards him. “Why don’t you find some time this week to spend time alone with each of your children? You don’t need to take them anywhere or spend money on them—no need to buy anyone a puppy or anything crazy—just spend a little quality time with each of them. And during these times, you may not give them adviceunless they ask for it. No reprimanding, no active ‘fathering.’ All I want you to do is to be there and listen to them. Take in each of their personalities and step outside of yourself to just enjoy their existence. Got it?”

Bill nods. “Yeah. I got it. I can do that.”

“I’ll see you next week, Lieutenant Colonel Booker.”

“Yes, I’ll be here next week. Thank you, Dr. Sheinbaum.”

* * *

"How's the shrink?" Vance Majors nudges Bill with an elbow as they stand in front of the vending machine that spits out coffee in the break room. "Is he making you spill your guts? I don't think I could do that." Vance shakes his head pityingly as he reaches into the dispenser and takes out the paper cup that's full of hot liquid. He steps aside so that Bill can take his turn.

"First of all, it's a she, not a he," Bill says as he plunks a quarter and a dime into the machine and punches the button so it will dispense coffee with creamer. "And I wouldn't say it's so much spilling my guts, as just answering her questions as honestly as I can."

Vance screws up his face. "Wait. You have to lie on a couch while awomanpicks your brain? Might as well just go home to the wife, am I right?"

"There's no couch involved," Bill assures him, watching as the dark liquid fills his cup with a loud, hissing stream. "We sit in chairs, and she sometimes asks me questions that feel totally random, but they usually lead us somewhere important."

The joking smile fades from Vance's face as he takes his first sip of coffee. "So, wait--you're actually enjoying this?"

Jeanie Florence walks past the open door of the break room then, her shapely legs visible beneath an A-line dress that hits her mid-thigh. She's wearing nylons and kitten heels that make a clacking sound on the concrete floors. Bill watches her for what feels like a split-second before looking back at Vance, who is watching him with interest.

"Enjoyingis a strong word," Bill says, "but I'm trying to learn something from it all if I can. I would be willing to wager that we all have areas where we could grow and improve."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Vance says dismissively, poking his head through the open door as the sound of Jeanie's heels fades into the distance. He pulls his head back in and gives Bill a knowing look. "But let's get down to business here. What's going on with you and Jeanie?"

Bill frowns. He realizes that he's holding his paper cup too tightly and tries to ease his grip. "Nothing. Why?"

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