Free The Unforgivable Fix by T. E. Woods Page A

a hot tub after a long day on the slopes was enough for him to stand up to his fears. He told Lydia he had only four weeks to overcome a lifetime of dread and was ready to do whatever it took.
    Lydia rattled the twenty marbles in her hand. “Ten minutes ago you were green as a frog and soaked in sweat just from me explaining what we were going to do. Now here you are, already down to an eight and living to tell the tale.”
    Tim continued to pant. “Hurts like hell.”
    “I told you it would. But the more you do it, the less it’s going to.” She held out the marbles.
    “Again?” His eyes were wide. “Right away?”
    “Again. Right away.”
    He hesitated.
    “Jessica, Jessica, Jessica, Jessica, Jessica,” Lydia said.
    Tim heaved a sigh and shook his head. “I can’t.”
    “Want me to ask what you’d like to do with Jessica in that hot tub?” Lydia rattled the marbles. “I would expect full details.”
    Tim shook his head again and pulled his lanky body forward. He held out his hands and Lydia poured the marbles in. He looked at her, took a cleansing breath, and began his recitation anew, dropping a marble back into the dish each time he said the word. When he was finished, he gave Lydia a sidelong glare.
    “What’s your anxiety level?” she asked.
    Tim reached for a Kleenex and wiped his palms. “I’d say a four or five maybe.”
    “And look at your body. Still leaning forward. Hands relaxed in front of you. Not gulping for breath. You’ve cut your anxiety in half. What do you make of that?”
    Tim’s smile was wide and slow. “Maybe it’s working.”
    “Of course it is.” Lydia loved the role of cheerleader for hardworking patients. “And it’s going to be working even better by the end of this hour.”
    Tim’s smile disappeared. “We’re going to do this again?”
    Lydia nodded. “And again and again. Till we run out of time. Then you’re going to take these marbles home and do the same thing five times a day every day until your brain is absolutely, totally, and unquestionably bored with this whole damned thing.”
    He seemed unsure. A moment later he picked up the marbles and called out his fearsome word twenty more times. Then twenty more. Then again, but this time he threw in synonyms as he tossed in each marble. “Puke, hurl, barf…” By the end of the session he reported his anxiety over the word was at a zero.
    “We’re seeing each other in two days. Don’t forget your homework.” Lydia stood and stepped to the door. “And you have another piece of homework, too.”
    “You’re turning into another full-time class, Doc.” Tim pulled himself up out of the sofa. At six four, he towered over Lydia. “What else?”
    “I want you to go on YouTube. Use
vomit
as your search word. Watch at least five videos a day of somebody throwing up. Pay attention to your anxiety number. Watch it go down.”
    “On top of the marbles?” Tim looked skeptical.
    Lydia shrugged. “Hey…you’re the one who came to me.” She held his stare. “You want me to fix this or not?”
    —
    The many intakes were exhausting Lydia. But she was starting over, rebuilding her practice from scratch. The thought of Tim, Krystal, and several others already on the schedule for next week gave her the second wind she needed to push away from her desk when the door chime signaled her last patient of the day. Another intake. Dee Norlin had called two days ago looking for direction in parenting what she called “a suddenly unruly daughter.” She’d asked if she and her husband could come in as soon as possible.
    Lydia greeted the couple and escorted them into her office. Dee Norlin was an expensively dressed, petite redhead who carried herself with studied precision. Her husband seemed more relaxed. He was just under six feet tall, just shy of two-hundred pounds, and just about as comfortable in his chinos and denim shirt as Lydia could imagine a man to be.
    “Nice to meet you, Mr. Norlin.” Lydia shook his