I Will Follow You Into the Dark

CHAPTER 6

When Derek arrived at Jen's apartment on Saturday night, he knocked and heard her yell, "It's open!"

Letting himself in, he unloaded a few grocery bags and eyed Jen carefully, suspecting that she'd be a little uncomfortable and speculating that she'd had a few drinks already.

"Hi," she said quietly, intent on chopping vegetables for a salad.

"Hey!" he said enthusiastically, "Grill hot?" he asked motioning with his head toward the balcony.

"Yeah."

"I'll go put the steaks on," he said as he walked outside. She's OK. She seems OK. Well, she seems quiet....I hope she's OK. Just act normal. Everything will be fine if you act like you always act around her—not too nice but not too rude.

As time passed, Derek realized that Jen was friendly, but she was keeping her distance. Since her change in behavior indicated that she really was uncomfortable, he tread carefully through the evening. They ate and chatted almost normally. Jen was just more quiet than usual. After dinner, Derek sat on the sofa in his usual spot, but Jen purposefully sat in the chair. "So what should we discuss tonight?" she asked him.

Derek just looked at her uneasily. "I don't know."

Jen considered her options and proceeded with the one she thought wisest, "Are we finished, Derek?"

"Um......" he responded, clearly caught off guard. "I'm not sure."

"You've made great progress, Derek. You've tackled some really tough issues in a short amount of time. You've dealt with your dad, South America, Mark, your mom, your OCD tendencies. You've been brave enough to talk about your problems. Maybe we're finished here."

"Maybe......" he said sadly.

Deciding that she had made the right choice by keeping things more formal and clinical, Jen continued, "We can always get together if things surface or if new things come up."

"We don't have to stop these dinners, do we?" Derek asked sincerely upset by her announcement.

"That might be best......for both of us," Jen said, knowing that she really meant that it would make things much easier for her.

"But, Jen......I......I need you. Don't pretend you're just my shrink," he pleaded as he looked at her wistfully.

"I'm not your shrink. I'm just a shrink who happens to be your friend who listens to you. But you've dealt with your problems. I need to cut the strings and let you deal with things on your own from here on out."


Flashback:

Not quite a year ago, Jen had been the psychologist on staff who was tapped for a special project at Mercy West. Seattle Grace was on the verge of promoting someone to Chief Resident, and they made it a standard practice to have someone at another hospital evaluate each of the candidates to do a psychological profile—to make sure they had the right sort of person filling that important job. There had been three candidates. Jen had met with all of them and filled out her paperwork.

At the end of the session with the third candidate, she put her papers into the manila folder on her desk and closed it. Looking up at the man she'd just interviewed, she smiled and asked, "Do you mind if I say something to you.........off the record?"

"I guess not," he replied hesitantly.

"You did fine. You're qualified. I'm not trying to cause you any problems or keep you from getting the job--because you're probably the best candidate."

"Thanks."

"It's just......You're hiding something. Secret pain. Your answers are too perfect. Not snow-job perfect or anything. I know you're not psychotic or demented or anything. It's just.......most people give in to therapists' tricks and open up about their personal lives. I'm good at those tricks, and I couldn't crack you. You seem too normal and too attractive to be a recluse, but that would be the only logical explanation for your answers. You only discussed your job, even when I tried to get you to talk about you as a person. Your answers are too neat and tidy. And I'm convinced that you're hiding something important. You really should find someone to talk to about whatever your secret is. It's not healthy to bottle up something so important."

Derek just sat there and stared at her a few minutes as he thought. "I've never seen a therapist before. I........I'm not one of 'those' people. And I hate the idea of sitting in an office and feeling as if I should be lying on a couch and spilling my guts for some stranger."

Jen nodded at the man, encouraging him to continue. He looked at her carefully, thinking he might be able to trust her with his deep, dark secrets--there was just something about her. He finally asked, "Um..........would you be willing to listen......about my......issues?"

"Certainly. Just call the receptionist."

"No. Not that way. Off the record. Informally. I think that's the only way I can handle it."

"But........."

"I'm not trying to be forward or anything, but you could come to my apartment. I could cook dinner, and we could talk. I spend my whole life in a hospital. I can't bear the thought of spending my free time in one across town."

"I don't know........there are rules......"

"Rules about people having dinner?"

"No, rules about having dinner with patients," Jen said seriously.

"But I'm not a patient. I'm a person with a few problems. And you're someone who listens well. I won't expect you to keep files or do anything except listen."

"I don't know......."

"Why don't we try it once. If you're not uncomfortable and I don't break down and cry like a baby until you send the men with white nets after me, maybe we can do it again. What do you say?"

"I guess......."

"Great! How's Saturday night? That's my next night off."

"You're sure about this?"

"You're the one who thinks I need my head examined. Should we really postpone this any longer? I could hurt someone," he said grinning at her with that perfect smile of his.

Jen laughed and agreed to his strange request.