Deadly Confessions

(Sensitive themes: alcohol, DUI, murder, mental health)

Ruby Marshall grew weary of listening to people's problems, which was unfortunate because, as a psychotherapist, that was her job. On a late October afternoon, she ushered a new client into her office, painted light blue, a color that bored her. Ruby hoped her mysterious client, calling himself John Doe, would be interesting. Still, she'd poured herself another cup of coffee just in case. 

"Have a seat." Ruby pointed to the beige sofa. 

When John entered the room, a serene golden lab in the corner summoned a lethargic tail wag. 

"That's Pumpkin. You can call me Dr. Ruby. What brings you in today, John?" Ruby leaned toward her client, clipboard in hand, hoping for a unique problem.

"I killed a woman." 

Ruby's thirty years of training taught her to remain calm. She jotted notes on her notepad, keeping her head down. "When was this?"

"Forty-two years ago."

Ruby's pulse quickened, and her head popped up. She looked at John, noting his tall, trim build and figuring he was about her age, sixty. His dark hair was peppered with gray. He wore an expensive watch and a gold signet ring but no wedding ring. His knee bounced up and down like a woodpecker on a dead tree. Despite his proclamation of being a murderer, Ruby didn't sense a threat. "That's a long time ago, John. What brings you in today?"

"I'd thought that I laid down the ghost of all this, but it's reared its ugly head, you know." John sat on the edge of the cushion with a rigid back. "Mind you, the statute of limitations for the DUI manslaughter charge expired three years after it happened. I haven't had a drink since that night. In fact, I've been a model citizen since, volunteering and such, you know."

"Uh-huh. But something's changed, hasn't it? What?"

"My daughter is going to the same school and rushing for the same sorority as the girl that got killed. All these horrible memories are flooding back." John swallowed hard, then coughed.

"Uh-huh." Ruby was already working on differential diagnoses, and delayed onset PTSD was at the top of the list.

"I'm afraid that Karma is going to kick me in the ass and harm my daughter, Lizzy." John's voice quavered.

In a matter-of-fact tone, Ruby said, "So, you're fearful that your daughter will be a victim of a drunk driver as well?"

"Yes. My logical mind and emotional mind are fighting each other. I'm obsessed. I can't sleep, can't eat, and you know, I need help, Dr. Ruby." John rocked his body forward and back.

By admitting he needed help, Ruby assessed she could work with him. "Uh-huh."I think I can help you, John, but for us to work together, we need trust. I've been doing this for a long time. John's not your real name, is it?"

"I'd just as soon keep the pseudonym. You're the first person in the world that I've told this to." John's hands pressed together. "I brought cash for the session fee."

"Thank you for trusting me with your secret. How did that make you feel?"

"A little relieved, actually."

"Uh-huh. Well, for legal and professional reasons, I must have your name." Asserting her control in the session, Ruby handed him an intake form on a clipboard, the one he'd refused to fill out earlier. While John completed the paperwork, Ruby opened the dog cookie jar on her credenza. Pumpkin, whose head had been on her front paws, looked up when the jar opened. She chomped loudly after receiving the treat.

John gave the clipboard back to Ruby. She looked at it and saw that he'd written "John Smith." She knew it was another fake, but ethically and legally, she was covered by requesting and getting the information. 

"What do you hope to get from our sessions?"

"Well, I want to be normal again. I want to sleep and eat and not be panicky all the time, you know. I think I want forgiveness, to forgive myself."

"So you know, I believe in the talking cure—there is healing in the telling. Every time you tell your traumatizing story, you'll get a little better. You'll need to be patient."

John nodded, his shoulders more relaxed than when he entered the room.

"We should meet weekly. I have an opening on Wednesdays at 4:00 p.m. That'll be $300 for today and each session." 

After paying, John left the room. Ruby approached her office window, and her eyes followed him out. He got in a late model, black BMW with license plate INCOG. As she jotted down the information on John's intake sheet, she rolled her eyes at the irony. Incognito, my ass. 

After putting her client notes away, Ruby pulled open her left-hand drawer, reached in, and pulled out the bag of dark chocolate-covered donuts. She ate them so fast that she didn't taste them.

Next, she called her AA sponsor to let her know that she had a client who had an incident with alcohol. They agreed to meet at a meeting later that night. On the way home, Ruby kept seeing skeletons decorating the lawns of homes everywhere. Halloween was sneaking up on her. 

###

The following Wednesday, Ruby had John retell every aspect of the night he killed "Kitty." Key elements included it happened on the night of a fraternity party at UC Springfield. Liquor flowed. John drove too fast while buzzed. 

"I heard a thud but never saw what I hit. The next morning, I realized what had happened from the time, location, and newspaper account. Of course, there were no CCTVs then, you know."

"Uh-huh. Did you know Kitty?"

"Of her. Her face, her sorority. She was a looker. A leader, too, you know."

"When you have flashbacks, what's that like?"

John let out an anguished sound and put his head between his knees. Pumpkin got up and went to Ruby, who reassured her and signaled her back to her bed. 

John asked, "Do I have to? This is hell to relive."

"I know. You're doing good." Ruby reminded herself to be objective as John's pain weighed on her sympathies. "Hang in there, and you'll see progress over time. Now, tell me what you see, hear, feel, smell. Everything." 

"I hear the thud. It's like being kicked in the gut. I see Kathy's beautiful face." In his distress, John had said the victim's real name, which Ruby heard but ignored. "I taste the never-ending vomit of the next morning when I realized my culpability." John sobbed as he bobbed up and down on his thighs. 

Ruby handed him a box of tissues. "I know this is difficult, but you've held onto this anguish for decades. Your daughter's attendance at your school unlocked the box of feelings you've been sitting on for forty years. Are there any other images or senses you recall?"

"Halloween."

"What?" Ruby felt a stab of pain surge through her body—she grimaced and stifled a yelp. 

"It was Halloween night. Everything was orange and black with the smell of candles at the party."

Ruby stopped hearing him after the word "Halloween." Her body trembled, but she managed to ask, "1982?"

Jolted from his reverie, John asked, "Yes, why?" 

Ruby's body made the connection before her mind did, but when she heard "Halloween," the two coalesced. Halloween night 1982. OMG. She hid her emotions and said, "Oh, nothing. Sorry to interrupt. Please continue." Ruby cleared her throat to disguise her cracking voice. 

For the remainder of the session, Ruby operated on autopilot. At last, John rose to leave, and Pumpkin, sensing distress, nuzzled her. 

After closing the door, Ruby rushed to her comfort drawer. No donuts. No chocolate of any kind. She'd forgotten to replenish her stash. Grabbing her phone, she called her sponsor. No answer—voicemail started. "It's Ruby. Please call me back—I'm in crisis."

Ruby paced in circles in her office to calm herself down and talked to herself. How did I not put this together sooner? Thirty years of counseling. How could I be so blind—what a fool. It's him. This is the guy who killed my mentor, my sorority Big Sister, on Halloween night in 1982. John's victim, Kitty, was my best friend Kathy. 

Memories flooded Ruby's thoughts. As a Big Sister, Kathy gave Ruby advice on everything: professors, classes, and most importantly, boys. They'd shared intimate secrets as well as dreams of the future. Ruby pursued psychology and counseling because of Kathy. When she died suddenly, Ruby became lost. She formed a strong relationship with Kathy's parents as they weathered the grief together. John caused it all. 

Ruby retched in her wastebasket. As she wiped her mouth with the box of tissues she'd earlier given John, she saw his coat hanging in the corner. Without hesitation, she rifled through his pockets, desiring to know more about this man. In one pocket, she found three business cards that read "John Sanders, CPA, Partner, Jones & Sanders." Is this him? I'd wonder if it were one card, but it's three. If so, he has a local reputation to protect. That's why he's so secretive.

In the other pocket, Ruby pulled out a folded, yellowed newspaper article. She opened it carefully and read the headline: "Co-ed Killed by Hit and Run Driver." Ruby gasped and then scanned further down to the photo. It showed three young women, Kathy, a fellow sorority sister, and herself, with the names captioned. 

Wait. Had John sought me out? If so, why? Absolution perhaps?

Ruby left her office immediately and drove straight to the liquor store. 

###

The next morning, Ruby's phone vibrated and rang on her nightstand. The receptionist asked if she was coming into the office and told her she'd already missed two appointments. Through bleary eyes and a pounding headache, Ruby said she'd be in at 1:00 p.m.

Ruby downed a liter of water, two cups of coffee, and aspirin before entering her shower. She thrust the shower handle to the left, letting the cold blast of water assault her as punishment. As she scrubbed her scalp with shampoo, Ruby vaguely remembered a conversation she had last night. Did I dream it, or did it really happen? 

Hurriedly, Ruby rinsed off and grabbed a towel. She found her phone and reviewed her call log, which revealed several missed calls from her sponsor, and then she saw it. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. She'd called Kathy's parents. What did I say? I can't think of this now.

Ruby continued to get ready for work. Memories of her friend Kathy intruded her mind. She recalled the time she got dumped by a fraternity guy the day after they'd made out. He shook her confidence and rattled her self-esteem. Kathy put everything in context and pulled Ruby out of her funk. 

Before leaving the house, Ruby poured what remained in the vodka bottle down the kitchen drain and fed Pumpkin. Looking down at her sweet dog, she said, "I'm sorry, pup. It won't happen again."

###

With the help of her sponsor and the comfort of Pumpkin, Ruby made it through the week and weekend. On Tuesday, she received a text from Kathy's family, "Thank you for the tip. It's taken care of." Ruby didn't know what that meant. Her face reddened as she recalled her shame from a week ago. Her blackout of their conversation compounded her remorse. She ignored the text and focused on her sobriety. Long walks with Pumpkin helped her keep her sanity.

Ruby considered canceling her session with John on Wednesday but wanted professional closure. She planned to refer John to another psychotherapist due to a conflict of interest. His coat in her office discomforted her, and she wanted to return it. 

On Wednesday at 4:00 p.m., Ruby's nervous stomach fluttered as she watched the clock waiting for John to arrive. Tick. Tick. Tick. By the time the clock reached 4:50 p.m., her nervousness had abated, and her muscles relaxed. She took in a deep breath and released a loud sigh. John was a no-show. Ruby smiled when she observed that her left hand didn't feel the need to open her comfort drawer even though her chocolate stash was full. 

Ruby gathered her things and leashed up Pumpkin. "Let's go home, girl." Pumpkin wagged her tail as they headed to the door. In the car, after putting on her seat belt, Ruby's phone vibrated, and she couldn't resist looking at the notification. The Springfield Gazette headline read, "UC Springfield Student Killed by Hit and Run Driver." The sub-head said, "Elizabeth Sanders Mourned by Her Sorority Sisters."

The business card in John's coat said John Sanders. He called his daughter Lizzy. 

Ruby's heart pounded in her chest. As her hand covered her gaping mouth, she clenched her eyes closed and tried to make sense of the headline. 

I'm as guilty as John. 

I drank, made a mistake, and someone died.