Irreparable - Hannibal Lecter

006 Validation

Emily sat opposite Dr. Lecter, the room cast in a softer, dimmer light as they had now met in the evening. The golden hues of the lamps created a warm and intimate atmosphere, the light converging in the center of the room.  The interplay of light and shadow seemed to emphasize the unique contours of Dr. Lecter's face. He sat, his legs crossed, a small notebook resting on his upper thigh. His brown lacquered shoe pointed up in the air, slowly tapping at nothing, a rhythmic motion that seemed to punctuate the comfortable silence as he looked at Emily.
Her restlessness was apparent despite her attempts to appear at ease. Dr. Lecter, perceptive as ever, observed the nuances of her behavior, including her constant shifting and adjustments to her once again ill-fitting, old-fashioned attire. 

Dr. Lecter began with his customary approach, setting the tone for the session. " I like us to start our sessions by discussing how your week has been" he said, measured. "Naturally we can delve deeper into specifics as you're opening up."
'Alright. 'Emily took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts before speaking. "There was this thing at work. Can we discuss that?"

"Anything Mrs. Stanton. Speak whatever is on your mind and I will listen."

Emily cleared her throat, making an effort to recall the story and convey it succinctly. "I work at a botany lab, about an hour's drive from here. My main research focuses on the cellular regenerative capabilities of non-native plant species in America," she explained, her words quick and to the point. "I had been preparing to present my findings, but due to a sudden change in plans, my colleague Mark took over instead."

Dr. Lecter sensed her disappointment but pressed on. "What prompted this change in plans?" he asked.

"Well, our director requested my immediate assistance on a different project. There was a Quantico case involving a peculiar substance made from a collection of unidentifiable seeds. They asked me to determine their origin and potential implications. It took a couple of hours in the lab to figure out they were, in fact, lab-grown, a blend of two poisonous African species. Basically untraceable if it weren't for..." Emily paused midsentence.

Dr. Lecter sensed the hesitation in Emily's voice and recognized that she couldn't disclose the full details of the case. He shifted his focus to her feelings instead, leaning forward as she collected her next thoughts.
"How did it make you feel, knowing that your knowledge played a big part in, perhaps even, solving the case.'' 
Carfeully readying herself to reveal some pride she leaned closer as well. 

"Honestly, Docter. It felt remarkable," she responded, "I haven't felt this important in quite some time."
Dr. Lecter nodded, a faint smile gracing his lips. "Finding purpose and fulfillment in one's work is a wonderfull thing. Have you shared this accomplishment at all?''

Emily's expression faltered briefly before she continued. "I went out for drinks with my colleague Mark after work," she began. "But as for my husband..." Her voice trailed off, and a hint of disappointment laced her words. "He has never shown much interest in my work. To him, it's 'just plants', after all," she added, her tone tinged with frustration and a touch of resentment.
Dr lecter uncrossed his legs and put his notepad down.

"And what does your husband do for work?"
"Finance," Emily replied, a note of disdain creeping into her voice.
As Emily spoke, a realization washed over her, and she couldn't help but chuckle. Dr. Lecter's perceptive nature didn't go unnoticed. "God, it's pathetic, isn't it?" she said, a mixture of amusement and self-awareness in her voice. "I'm yearning for validation from someone who sits behind a desk making calls and possibly chatting up his assistant all day. It's absurd." Dr. Lecter's smile deepened as he observed Emily's newfound clarity, realizing her grwoth. Even if it was small. 

"It's natural to desire affirmation and support from spouses. But sometimes we must recognize that true fulfillment and validation come from ourselves. Regardless of whether your husband fully comprehends them. However, you mentioned a colleague who you shared your accomplishments with?"
"Yes. Mark is a great colleague," she began, her tone brightening.
''Tell me about him. How are you getting along? I assume your work must be quite stressfull sometimes.''

"He is more of a friend, really—reliable and quite passionate about his work. It's refreshing to have someone like him around. He brings me coffee in the morning, and he wears these obnoxious shirts to work," she said, describing her colleague's with a touch of amusement on her face.

Dr. Lecter noticed the change in her tone when she spoke about her colleague. Sensing the shift, he decided to delve deeper.

"Would you say that Mark is attractive?" he asked, seemingly out of the blue. The question caught her off guard for a moment, but she realized the importance of honesty in their conversation.

"Yes," she replied, keeping her response simple.

Curiosity piqued, Dr. Lecter continued, "Does your husband know about Mark?"

"Yes, they have met before. They crossed paths at a New Year's party some time ago," she answered, curiosity and suspicion growing in her mind. "What are you getting at, Doctor?"

Dr. Lecter's gaze remained steady as he asked directly, "Have you ever had an affair with your colleague?" There was no doubt that it had crossed her mind. But she would never act on it. Her cheeks flushed even thinking about it. "It makes sense, Mrs. When there's a rough patch in a marriage, it's not uncommon for people to turn to those who make us feel better about ourselves. Those who validate us."

"I would never cheat on my husband," she persisted firmly.
"Of course not, but the color on your cheeks tells me that you have been tempted to do so before. Tell me, when was the last time you and your husband were intimate?"
Another blush crept onto her cheeks, this one born out of shame. She looked at the ring on her hand and started playing with it, avoiding eye contact. "A year ago, perhaps," she answered, clutching her fist to resist the temptation of looking at the ring again.