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His five o'clock was late again. It wasn't until ten minutes after the hour that his phone buzzed. Marie's voice broke in to tell him that she had finally arrived.

"Thanks, Marie. You can go. I'll lock up," he told her, knowing she would be grateful for not having to stay any later.

As the door handle started to turn, he stood to meet his patient. He was about to gently berate her for again being late when he saw the look on her face.

"Patrice, what happened?" he asked, his compassion taking over the other emotion.

"Oh, Ben, they showed up," Patrice said, starting to tear up.

Benjamin gently directed her to the love seat and she sat next to the end table, automatically grabbing a handful of tissues from the box. He sat in the upholstered chair that faced her, a folder in his hand.

"Who showed up?" he asked, taking a pen from his pocket.

"They came to see me, Tim and ... and her."


The name seemed familiar to Benjamin. He leafed through Patrice's folder, notes of her therapy sessions, looking for the name.

"We talked about him last week, at the end," Patrice prompted.

Benjamin found the name in the entry he had made the week before. He scanned his notes as Patrice rambled on. He let her talk, knowing it was good for her to refresh her memories right before they discussed them.

"We were going back through all of my relationships to try to see why they kept failing. Tim was my first, you know, to take me. He was 1982, the summer camp.

Benjamin, nodding, skimming the notes. They had been working backwards over the last few months. At the end of last Monday's session, she was beginning to tell about her affair over the summer of 1982. She had given her virginity to another counselor at the camp. The relationship had ended strangely in the fall. Patrice was just about to start explaining why when time ran out.

"Yes, Tim. Camp Kisatchie. You were telling me about how you developed a sexual relationship with him. Why don't you continue?" Benjamin prompted.

"Well, you know I slept with him. He was my first, and he was wonderful. He cared for me, we were in love with each other, and he was so handsome. I had never felt ready to give that up for any other boyfriend. With Tim, I felt like I couldn't wait to do it with him."

Patrice paused for a moment to collect her thoughts.

"My roommate at the camp, we became close friends-the three of us-had a messy breakup with her boyfriend over the summer while we were there. Tim and I helped her through that time. As the summer came to an end, he and I talked about keeping things going, you know, in the fall. I was going to school in Arkansas, and Tim was in school in Louisiana.

"When I got back to school, my roommate had transferred so I ended up with someone else. Her name was Fran and we bonded really well. She had never had a boyfriend before so she hung on my every word as I told her about Tim."

Patrice paused, as if unsure whether to talk about the next part.

"Go on, you can tell me about it," Benjamin prompted.

Patrice looked at the door, to reassure herself it was locked.

"She wanted to hear about everything, even the sexual parts," Patrice said, blushing a little. "We decided that it would be innocent enough if we didn't use names. She wouldn't know who he really was that way, so I told her everything. I can't believe how intimate the details were, but it was strangely satisfying to be able to share that with someone. Without using his name, it was anonymous somehow. We just referred to Tim as him. After a few weeks, Fran knew Tim almost as well as I did. I got letters from Tim and even called him a few times. I could tell that things weren't as, uh, passionate as they had been over the summer. The distance was wearing on us."

Patrice gripped the Kleenex a little tighter, a gesture that Benjamin noticed out of the corner of his eye.

"I knew we were drifting apart and I didn't know what to do about it. Fran was hanging on my every word so I invented some of the later details. I couldn't tell her the truth."


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