Burdened
As Bridget pulled up into the driveway, she noticed there was a light on inside, but Franky’s car was not in the street where it was usually parked. Bridget made a mental note to close the shutters when she got inside – there was a clear view from the street right into the living room and kitchen.
It was nearly six o’clock and Bridget sighed as she turned off her car engine and grabbed her clear work bag from the boot.
She opened the front door and dumped her bag on the couch. As she walked over to the windows and closed the shutters she thought that she must have just missed Franky, who was going to be out for the night attending her first community legal service night. Whilst she had not yet started at Legal Relief, part of her job involved assisting at the community legal service nights that were held on the first Thursday of every month. Tonight was an opportunity for her to see it in action before she started work the following week.
The house smelt delicious. Franky - bless her, thought Bridget - must have cooked dinner before she left. As she put her keys down next to the fruit bowl on the island bench, she let out another big sigh – the size of which took her by surprise. Her day hadn’t been overly difficult - no more draining than usual - but Bridget just wasn’t feeling right and if she was honest with herself, she hadn’t for a few days. She paused by the bench, her hand moving to the back of her head where she rubbed a tight spot in her neck. As she she bent down to unzip her boots, she spied a note on the kitchen bench.
“Gidge,
Have made us dinner. The lamb shanks have been slow cooking all afternoon, you just need to warm them in the oven (should take about half an hour). There is mash and broad beans in the fridge too – they just need heating. Should be home just after 9 but don’t wait for me to eat.
Franky x"
Bridget smiled as she read Franky’s note, the words coming to life as Franky’s voice in her head. She loved that she and Franky were an “us”.
Coming home to an empty house seemed too quiet, yet she had lived alone and had come home to the same house for many years before Franky Doyle had spun into her life like a tornado. Whilst she had been used to being alone and in her own company, she never felt lonely. Even since Franky’s release they had spent nights apart. But now, it felt different.
She glanced at the clock and decided she would take a shower before thinking about dinner. As Bridget let the water flow over her, she tried to wash away the events of the day and to unpack why she was feeling the way she was.
Bridget could not put her finger on what was going on, except that the single thought of “burdened” flashed in her mind. But what was it exactly…. burdened by all of the shit she was dealing with at Wentworth – trying to remain objective in treating Kim Chang as she continued to hurl her poisonous vitriol at Bridget session after session. Trying to regain trust and her relationship with Vera after Vera was no doubt devastated with Bridget’s lie by omission about her relationship with Franky. Perhaps, Bridget thought it was the ever-present worry that someone would find out about Franky’s confession to her about murdering Meg Jackson.
Managing Ferguson in general was also certainly presenting its challenges as well. Even though she had only been in the general population a few days, she had already been assaulted, which appeared to be an assault she had engineered on herself. The prison had an uneasy pressure cooker feel and the staff were just waiting for something to happen – a riot, a shiv or an attempt on her life.
She abruptly turned off the water in attempt to short circuit the whirlwind that was in her head. Putting on some comfortable clothes, she headed back into the kitchen and took a wine glass from the cupboard. She wandered over to the wine rack, where a small post it note on the end of the bottle again caught her eye. She bent down to pick up the bottle and read the note….“Choose me… I’ll go well with dinner x”. Despite the way she was feeling, a little smile escaped her mouth.
Franky had thought of everything and knew Bridget so well. Bridget twisted the lid off the Rockford Basket Press Shiraz and poured herself a glass. She took both her glass and the bottle and wandered over to the couch. As she sat back and let her head relax into cushions, she was reminded of her love of the famous vineyard in the Barossa region in South Australia – Rockford winery - where the wine had been made. She hoped one day to take Franky there. Whilst the wineries were worth the visit themselves, the surrounding countryside and rolling hills of vineyards were spectacular along with the character B and B’s that were nestled within the landscape. "But not until Franky’s parole condition of leaving the state was lifted", Bridget thought, snapping herself out of her fantasy of taking Franky away.
As she sighed again, her mind turned to how she was feeling. “Was it her relationship with Franky??”… After all, she had lost her job once and nearly a second time as a result and had also nearly lost a friend in Vera.
Her socializing and contact with her friends had to be curtailed since Franky’s release from Wentworth and was limited only to Bridget’s closest and most trusted friends for fear of their relationship becoming public.
There was also the constant fear that she would be reported for breaching her code of conduct for having a relationship with a former patient. And then add onto that, her absolute fear that Franky would be sent back to Wentworth for breach of her parole.
Whilst the longer Franky had been out of Wentworth, the less she worried about Franky breaching her parole, there was always that niggling thought in Bridget’s mind that Franky might just snap. She he was far from that angry ant that had stormed into one of her group therapy sessions in Wentworth those many months ago, but Bridget worried that she wasn’t there yet. She was a work in progress – Bridget had, after all, herself told the parole board exactly that in support of Franky’s release from Wentworth.
Bridget shook her head at the mini inventory of the things she had going. “No wonder I’m feeling the way I am” she thought to herself.
Bridget then thought back to the previous day when Franky had picked her up from work. As she walked towards the car, her stomach tingled as she heard Franky playfully say “Hey spunky”, but as she got into the car she knew immediately that something wasn’t right with Franky.
She had spent years learning how to read people, their body language, their facial expressions and their eyes. The little things they did or didn’t do that would betray their words. It was the subtle nuances that often said more. As she got into the car, she felt a wave of panic come over her. Franky had a look of uneasiness about her and Bridget immediately jumped to conclusions in her head.
“Relax” the voice in Bridget’s head said to herself … “Just ask her what is wrong”, Bridget felt like her mind was spinning as she sat opposite the whirlwind that was Franky.
She asked Franky if she was alright, almost not wanting to hear the answer. Then there were the words that escaped from her usually composed and measured mouth… “we aren’t breaking up are we???”, her voice laced with self doubt and vulnerability.
She recalled the absolute relief she felt when she heard Franky’s playful response “Defs not” as she flashed her trademark smile at Bridget. Bridget’s heart was was hammering; she breathed faster than usual as Franky explained to her that she needed to move out. She found the psychologist in her responding … “sounds like a breakthrough to me”. At the time she hadn’t realized, but she had switched into therapist mode. Was it to continue to provide Franky with the support she needed, or was it more to protect herself? - Bridget now wondered.
As she took another sip of wine, she tried to make sense of her thoughts. Since Franky’s release, she knew Franky had struggled in not wanting to lean on Bridget but the reality was, she needed too and she had done so. Perhaps it was this constant support that had worn her down to some extent. She was always conscious not to make Franky seem like she was in a therapy session when Franky wanted to open up to her about something, but the level of training she had done and experience she had made it unavoidable at times. Sometimes Bridget put so much effort into turning off her professional way of thinking or at least concealing it from Franky that doing so in itself was exhausting.
If she was honest with herself, their relationship probably had a bit more work to do before it completely moved away from the psychologist-patient relationship. But then again, her background in psychology enriched many of Bridget’s friendships and relationships – it was just an integral part of who she was. But having initially had a patient-therapist relationship, it blurred the boundaries, “Which is why”, Bridget thought to herself “those fucking conduct rules are in place”.
Bridget couldn’t deny the fact that she continued to be at risk of being reported for breach of the Australian Psychological Society Code of Ethics, which prohibited her from having a sexual relationship with any person whom she had treated as a patient for two years since the conclusion of that relationship. Even then there were further hoops to jump through involving counseling and further box ticking. She still had a bit less than 18 months before that restriction was no longer applicable, counting back to the last time that she saw Franky formally before transferring her care to the external psychologist at Wentworth.
On the one hand, it didn’t sit well with Bridget that she was blatantly flouting the code of ethics. As a well-respected and experienced psychologist, she knew would not be considered favorably by the Psychology Board nor would she be given any leniency if she was reported.
On the other hand, she was more than prepared to run that gauntlet. By Franky moving out, the risk of Franky breaking parole due to her living arrangements was resolved. But it still did not eliminate the risk for Bridget professionally. That was a risk she was willing to take. At least if she was to fall, she would not be taking Franky down with her.
As she picked up the ipad on the coffee table and tapped the numerical password out, the Real Estate app filled the screen. Franky and Bridget had talked about where Franky would look – she wanted something in a similar area to Bridget (which was hard to find given Franky’s budget) but also not too far from the Legal Relief office.
She had also checked the definition of residence as set out in Franky’s terms of parole against the guidelines issued by the Parole Board. It didn’t mean that Franky couldn’t stay at her house – she just had to maintain what was referred to as a “Principal Place of Residence” at the address set out in the terms of her Parole Agreement. It was quite easy to change the address – she had looked into it and from what Franky had said, her parole officer was easy going and supportive so changing her registered address wouldn’t be a problem.
As Bridget refilled her glass, she realized how much she didn’t want Franky to move out. She knew that they didn’t have a choice given Franky’s parole and her mind drifted as to whether she had been reckless in letting Franky live there in the first place.
She also knew Franky needed to move out for her own development. But the simple reality was that she just loved Franky living with her.
As Bridget looked down at the bottle sitting on the coffee table she realized she had drunk more than half of it. What time was it???…. she looked up at the clock…. “shit” she thought… “where had the time gone?”. She hadn’t even started on dinner and jumped up to turn the oven on. If she put it in now, it would be ready just in time for when Franky got home.
She later heard the key in the lock and the unmistakable clomp of Franky’s boots. As she rounded the corner, she shot Bridget one of her stellar smiles and said “Gidget.. been in the kitchen again.. anyone would think you are a chef… or you are fucking one”.
“Come here you!” Bridget said playfully as she grabbed Franky and pulled her towards her and kissed her hello. God it felt good to see her, Bridget thought. To feel her strong body as she pulled her close and the warmth of her kiss. Bridget realized she felt more fragile than she had in a long time.
She stepped back and looked at Franky, whose eyes were gleaming. “So how was it?” Bridget asked as Franky put bowls in the oven to warm.
“Oh my god Gidge, it was just amazing. Some of the shit these people have got themselves into is just a bloody cracker”.
Bridget beamed back at Franky, it truly warmed her heart to see Franky directing her passion into something like this. She just had so much potential.
Before Bridget could respond, Franky continued “..and then you’ve also got the uber uptight-ers who are there ‘coz their neighbor’s trees are hanging over their fence and they are acting like it’s the worst fuckin’ thing on the earth … I mean, who gets their knickers in a knot over a few leaves and twigs”.
Bridget laughed as Franky impersonated one of the people whom she must have come across and responded “I’m sure you’d be surprised Franky, no doubt it’s all relative”.
As Franky took over in the kitchen, she glanced down to the near empty bottle of red wine on the coffee table. “Another hard day Gidge????… or were you just having a bit of a party for one?”.
Bridget turned her head to the side and deflected the question by responding “I saw you’ve been looking up some places on the ipad – are there any that you think are worth you going to have a look at on the weekend?”.
“Yeah, there are some. But I think its going to be a matter of us going to check them out….as fuck knows how much they have dressed them up in the description and the photos always make the places look much bigger than they are”.
Bridget immediately held onto the “us” in Franky’s sentence. She hadn’t wanted to interfere too much in the process of Franky looking for a place and thought that it might be something that she wanted to or needed to do on her own. “So you want me to come along with you??” Bridget said, sounding more doubtful and vulnerable than she perhaps intended.
“Yeah…” Franky responded…“Of course I do Gidge… I mean… I’m doing this because I have to because of that shit with my parole conditions … and to also stand on my own two feet a bit… but I’m still here, we are still us”, Franky said as she came up behind Bridget and hugged her, nestling her head into the side of Bridget’s neck.
Bridget felt her neck relax at Franky’s touch and her shoulders instantly sat a little lower as she leaned back into Franky’s hug. She was surprised at just how much she had needed that hug and to be touched by Franky, as well as the simple reassurance that was communicated in Franky’s words. She tilted her head up to meet Franky’s lips. Bridget forgot how much shorter she was than Franky when she didn’t wear heels.
Franky’s hands on her, Bridget felt Franky spin her around so they were face to face as Franky looked into her eyes. Her touch was so soft as she brushed away a piece of hair from Bridget’s face and tucked it behind her ear as Bridget melted into Franky’s warmth, her attention and her love. It was a side of Franky that showed her true compassion, her support - which, contemplated Bridget, she appeared to be needing from Franky now more than ever.
“Couch or table??”, Franky said softly to Bridget… in reference as to where they were to eat dinner. “Couch” they both said, Franky answering her own question. “OK Gidge, I’m just going to let this sit for a minute”, referring to the dinner Franky had just pulled out of the oven and she started up the hallway yelling behind her … “and I’m gunna go and put my trackies on”. Bridget nodded, as she watched Franky clomping up the hallway, thinking about how on edge she had felt before.
Maybe it was the wine that had relaxed her. Maybe it was the reassurance from Franky or just Franky being with her. As she cleared away the ipad and another book that was on the coffee table, she wondered if she was carrying too much…most of it, however, was just part and parcel of life as Bridget.
As Franky came back to the kitchen she collected two bowls, which she then carried over to the couch. “Dinner is served!” she said, smiling warmly at Bridget as she handed her a bowl that both looked and smelled divine. They both sat cross-legged on the couch facing each other and started to eat.
“So tell me more about the night”, Bridget asked as Franky was in the midst of a mouthful.
“Gidge… it was just so cool, and you know what… I could totally see myself doing it. Talking to the people, giving them advice and stuff...”.
“So can I ... I have always seen it, even when you couldn’t”, Bridget thought silently to herself before returning her attention to Franky’s animated stories as they ate dinner together.
After finishing dinner and as Bridget went to take Franky's bowl, Franky asked "Gidge are you ok??". Bridget shot a quick smile in Franky's direction but was surprised when Franky didn't let go of her bowl, holding on to it as she waited for Bridget's eyes to meet hers. Once Bridget looked into Franky's eyes, she was met with the question again, "Gidge... I asked if you are ok".
"Are you going to give me the bowl??" Bridget laughed nervously. "Not until you tell me what's up" Franky responded raising her eyebrows.
Bridget stood there, silent and felt as if she was on the edge of a precipice. "Hey", Franky said warmly, seeing a side of Bridget with which she was not familiar. "Baby... you can talk to me" taking both her bowl and Bridget's bowl and putting them on the table next to the couch.
Bridget sat back down next to her. "I don't know where to start" Bridget responded. "Start anywhere", Franky said "...and we will just work from there".