[Evelyn, who is familiar with what psychiatrists do but not altogether confident in whether or not they accomplish the purpose of their studies*, is hesitant for all manner of reason: not least of which is the fact that she has been trained to avoid emotional confrontations unless in a secluded space, with very specific people.
One doesn't just confess deep, dark secrets to strangers.
*In all fairness, Evelyn's experience with psychiatrists is limited to psychological articles from the late 1920s and conversations with Hannibal Lecter, who, as all parties know, is a horrible human being and cannibalistic serial murderer.]
Thank you, ah- tea would be...would be lovely,
[she adds politely, stepping inside and examining the room's interior.]
I'm afraid I'm not well-versed in psychiatric practises, this is very new to me.
Of course. [The keurig Cami keeps in the office makes it easy enough to put together. She picks out a cup of chamomile, figuring that anything she could offer to help Eveyln relax would be a good idea at this point. Even during those few moments when she's not facing the woman, it's difficult not to feel her tension.]
Well, it's pretty simple on the surface. [She glances over her shoulder at Evelyn, offering a warm smile. She isn't the first nervous patient to cross Cami's threshold.] First, you keep two things in mind: you should keep breathing, and it's okay to be honest. Nothing you say leaves this room. [Unless Evelyn presents some sort of danger to someone, but Cami really can't see that happening. Evelyn's a strong woman to be sure, but she doesn't give the impression of someone who means to do harm.]
First and foremost, I'm here to listen. One of the most basic therapeutic exercises is just getting whatever's bugging you so much out into the open. [The tea finishes pouring, and Cami picks up the cup to offer it to Evelyn.] So sit down, stand up, walk around--whatever feels comfortable. And talk to me.
[A psychiatrist, it seems, is a confidante without connexion. Someone far removed enough from a situation so as to view it with a more critical eye, and does that serve her purpose better, to be judged by someone who is permitted a certain lengthy proximity from her problems? How do they remain objective?
Perhaps these questions are better left unasked, as Evelyn isn't certain she wants the answers to them.
It's a safe space.]
Thank you,
[she receives the cup gratefully and grips its warmth with desperation. Predisposed to pacing when fraught Evelyn considers that it might be better to gather her thoughts while taking a small a turn about the room.]
I'm not entirely sure where to start, it- [It goes further than Rick.] ...I've been here a very long time.
[Pausing by a window Evelyn chews her lip, fingernails curling against the tea cup.]
Back home I'm- I'm very happily married, I have a son, but until very recently here I have never been lucky enough to be graced with family or friends. Wonderland has not been...kind to me...in that regard. Which- it's difficult, at times. Seeing so many others with kith and kin.
[Evelyn remains as quick to pick upon things as Cami had seen when they first met. In that one explanation she understands, though of course Cami has no way of knowing this for sure until Evelyn speaks again. She nods in response to the gratitude for the drink, stepping back once the cup is out of her hands. Evelyn chooses to stand, so Cami quietly sits in the chair that offers her the best view of the other woman, meaning to make herself unobtrusive. By doing so Evelyn would hopefully lose herself in the spoken thoughts, thus revealing more than she might were Cami's presence more blatant.
It works. In those first few sentences Cami can already guess where this might be going, and she understands far better than Evelyn probably realizes. Not because Cami is married or has children--neither is the case. But she knows what it's like to be on her own, both in Wonderland and back home. Sean's death, and Kieran's: both taught her that lesson long before Wonderland left her as the sole captive from her world.]
It makes you ache with the certainty of how alone you are. [Her voice is quiet, playing at being a continuation to the thought rather than an intrusion into it.] Even when you're surrounded by friends, in the end, there's no one else who really understands. Not like someone you've shared your life with outside of Wonderland. People you love.
Yes, [she agrees, and the word is hushed.] People you love.
[Both hands wrapped around her cuppa Evelyn takes a wary sip; the burn reminds her that she's still alive.]
You know, in...in spite of everything, with disappointment comes a sense of hopelessness. A grudging admittance that time is not on your side and- for a while I thought perhaps I did not deserve the same sort of closeness here to which I had become accustomed back home.
But I...came to find company in someone else, I was so- so tired of being lonely.
[Tired enough that she felt a certain security in quiet flirting, in pleasant conversations over lunch, in appreciation for wit and intellect that she had not entertained in what felt like an age. When Evelyn speaks again it is airier, thoughtful as she looks outside, privately hating the snow.]
...when you and I last spoke at length I had been recovering from the shame of being lied to by the very man I took as a lover.
[In a strange and twisted way, what Evelyn offers runs in line with Cami's own story. Always attracted to the bad boys, the ones who are trouble, the ones she knows will break her heart because maybe on some level, she thinks that's what she deserves. She plays at being better, works so hard to maintain her sanity, her sense of right and wrong.
And yet there are moments when something dark creeps up inside of her, desiring to lash out in anger, and rage.
But Evelyn does not deserve her loneliness any more than Cami her pain. Not when they've made the best choices they can while living in circumstances so far beyond their control. Yet it's impossible not to see logic that would connect the dots.
Betray your husband, take on a lover, and this is what comes about it.
She leans forward in her seat. Though Evelyn doesn't look her way, Cami's eyes remain focused on the other woman. She is certain now, beyond sure of what has prompted this visit.]
Which is bad enough all on its own--but then a man named Rick O'Connell shows up in Wonderland.
[And of course the possibility exists that this is all just coincidence. After all, Cami herself shares the last name, but no other apparent connection.
But the evidence is plain before her, in the weariness of a haggard woman who doesn't know how to reconcile what she's done when facing a universe that seemingly stands determined to punish her for it.]
[Tea forgotten but still clutched tightly in her hands, a makeshift security blanket, Evelyn doesn't know how much she might consider her decision to reach out for closeness as a betrayal. She had once asked Cecil whether he thought it was unreasonable to love more than one person, and he had helped her to justify a need to mitigate loneliness at the time. In light of her husband's arrival it is important not to let stale sentiment run away from her.
Cami is exceedingly quick on the uptake, but then - it's difficult not to recognise an O'Connell when they declare it loudly across the network.]
I've been married to Rick for nine years.
[Nine years with little incident, a happy near-decade of time together, affection and unwavering support. He has never sought to control her, nor lie to her. They are honest, and steadfast, and she alone is breaking that pact by withholding evidence of her affair.]
I love him. I do, with- with everything that I am and I never thought I would see him again. Not after dying.
[Moving away from the window she seats herself across from Cami, cradling the teacup in her hands.]
...I loved Will too, even after he broke my heart.
[Cami's lips part, a soft breath escaping her as Evelyn all but admits the ultimate truth. In her loneliness and despair she'd sought comfort in the arms of another, and that is something Cami can sympathize with. The difference between them is that Cami has no ring on her finger, no vows to uphold to another, and no disaster waiting just on the horizon now that the wrong person has shown up in Wonderland.
It's a sad thing, a hard one to face. She clutches her hands together in her lap, letting Evelyn seat herself before she offers up a response.]
I think it's clear that you love Rick. You wouldn't feel this tremendous pain if you didn't. [There is no question in Cami's mind that Evelyn feels deeply for the man, or that she would've never committed the act had she not been alone here for so long, coupled with the certainty that home no longer existed for her. Cami lowers her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts, trying to decide what Evelyn needs to hear first.]
One of the conversations I've had with a few of my patients involves the idea of what it means when a person leaves Wonderland. Even with the potential that they could come back, in many ways it's like a death. The people still here don't know when they'll see them again--and that's assuming they're from the same world, and both alive.
So I think that when a person goes, or when they aren't here, those of us that are have to grieve, and we have to go on. We're still alive here, and staying stagnant because of our location would be like--
[She hesitates, letting her eyes meet Evelyn's. Maybe her guilt would make the words hurt more, but Cami does believe they're true.]
Like a widow who refused to ever move on after she lost her husband. In a lot of ways, Evelyn, that's what you were.
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no subject
One doesn't just confess deep, dark secrets to strangers.
*In all fairness, Evelyn's experience with psychiatrists is limited to psychological articles from the late 1920s and conversations with Hannibal Lecter, who, as all parties know, is a horrible human being and cannibalistic serial murderer.]
Thank you, ah- tea would be...would be lovely,
[she adds politely, stepping inside and examining the room's interior.]
I'm afraid I'm not well-versed in psychiatric practises, this is very new to me.
no subject
Well, it's pretty simple on the surface. [She glances over her shoulder at Evelyn, offering a warm smile. She isn't the first nervous patient to cross Cami's threshold.] First, you keep two things in mind: you should keep breathing, and it's okay to be honest. Nothing you say leaves this room. [Unless Evelyn presents some sort of danger to someone, but Cami really can't see that happening. Evelyn's a strong woman to be sure, but she doesn't give the impression of someone who means to do harm.]
First and foremost, I'm here to listen. One of the most basic therapeutic exercises is just getting whatever's bugging you so much out into the open. [The tea finishes pouring, and Cami picks up the cup to offer it to Evelyn.] So sit down, stand up, walk around--whatever feels comfortable. And talk to me.
no subject
Perhaps these questions are better left unasked, as Evelyn isn't certain she wants the answers to them.
It's a safe space.]
Thank you,
[she receives the cup gratefully and grips its warmth with desperation. Predisposed to pacing when fraught Evelyn considers that it might be better to gather her thoughts while taking a small a turn about the room.]
I'm not entirely sure where to start, it- [It goes further than Rick.] ...I've been here a very long time.
[Pausing by a window Evelyn chews her lip, fingernails curling against the tea cup.]
Back home I'm- I'm very happily married, I have a son, but until very recently here I have never been lucky enough to be graced with family or friends. Wonderland has not been...kind to me...in that regard. Which- it's difficult, at times. Seeing so many others with kith and kin.
[It's lonely.]
no subject
It works. In those first few sentences Cami can already guess where this might be going, and she understands far better than Evelyn probably realizes. Not because Cami is married or has children--neither is the case. But she knows what it's like to be on her own, both in Wonderland and back home. Sean's death, and Kieran's: both taught her that lesson long before Wonderland left her as the sole captive from her world.]
It makes you ache with the certainty of how alone you are. [Her voice is quiet, playing at being a continuation to the thought rather than an intrusion into it.] Even when you're surrounded by friends, in the end, there's no one else who really understands. Not like someone you've shared your life with outside of Wonderland. People you love.
no subject
[Both hands wrapped around her cuppa Evelyn takes a wary sip; the burn reminds her that she's still alive.]
You know, in...in spite of everything, with disappointment comes a sense of hopelessness. A grudging admittance that time is not on your side and- for a while I thought perhaps I did not deserve the same sort of closeness here to which I had become accustomed back home.
But I...came to find company in someone else, I was so- so tired of being lonely.
[Tired enough that she felt a certain security in quiet flirting, in pleasant conversations over lunch, in appreciation for wit and intellect that she had not entertained in what felt like an age. When Evelyn speaks again it is airier, thoughtful as she looks outside, privately hating the snow.]
...when you and I last spoke at length I had been recovering from the shame of being lied to by the very man I took as a lover.
no subject
And yet there are moments when something dark creeps up inside of her, desiring to lash out in anger, and rage.
But Evelyn does not deserve her loneliness any more than Cami her pain. Not when they've made the best choices they can while living in circumstances so far beyond their control. Yet it's impossible not to see logic that would connect the dots.
Betray your husband, take on a lover, and this is what comes about it.
She leans forward in her seat. Though Evelyn doesn't look her way, Cami's eyes remain focused on the other woman. She is certain now, beyond sure of what has prompted this visit.]
Which is bad enough all on its own--but then a man named Rick O'Connell shows up in Wonderland.
[And of course the possibility exists that this is all just coincidence. After all, Cami herself shares the last name, but no other apparent connection.
But the evidence is plain before her, in the weariness of a haggard woman who doesn't know how to reconcile what she's done when facing a universe that seemingly stands determined to punish her for it.]
no subject
Cami is exceedingly quick on the uptake, but then - it's difficult not to recognise an O'Connell when they declare it loudly across the network.]
I've been married to Rick for nine years.
[Nine years with little incident, a happy near-decade of time together, affection and unwavering support. He has never sought to control her, nor lie to her. They are honest, and steadfast, and she alone is breaking that pact by withholding evidence of her affair.]
I love him. I do, with- with everything that I am and I never thought I would see him again. Not after dying.
[Moving away from the window she seats herself across from Cami, cradling the teacup in her hands.]
...I loved Will too, even after he broke my heart.
no subject
It's a sad thing, a hard one to face. She clutches her hands together in her lap, letting Evelyn seat herself before she offers up a response.]
I think it's clear that you love Rick. You wouldn't feel this tremendous pain if you didn't. [There is no question in Cami's mind that Evelyn feels deeply for the man, or that she would've never committed the act had she not been alone here for so long, coupled with the certainty that home no longer existed for her. Cami lowers her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts, trying to decide what Evelyn needs to hear first.]
One of the conversations I've had with a few of my patients involves the idea of what it means when a person leaves Wonderland. Even with the potential that they could come back, in many ways it's like a death. The people still here don't know when they'll see them again--and that's assuming they're from the same world, and both alive.
So I think that when a person goes, or when they aren't here, those of us that are have to grieve, and we have to go on. We're still alive here, and staying stagnant because of our location would be like--
[She hesitates, letting her eyes meet Evelyn's. Maybe her guilt would make the words hurt more, but Cami does believe they're true.]
Like a widow who refused to ever move on after she lost her husband. In a lot of ways, Evelyn, that's what you were.