Page 10 of The Therapist
It wasn’t like I had never dated a good-looking man before. I’d been through plenty of them but this one caught me. Perhaps it was the way he looked at me, as though he were drinking me in. Perhaps it was the stories he told of his ambition. He wanted the biggest house, the nicest car, the most expensive vacations, and he wanted to have someone at home that he could give all of it to. I knew that would be the perfect role for me. I was born for it.
The company he worked for at the time was growing and it seemed that the sky was the limit. ‘We’ll be turning over millions soon,’ he told me, ‘millions.’ I didn’t even struggle as he lured me into the net, and then I was filled with his baby and stuck.
I finish my make-up, dismissing my past mistakes. Perhaps if she asks about the eye today, I will give a different excuse. I need her to know ‘the husband’ is dangerous. I need her to understand that my safety is my concern. My safety and the safety of the children I adore.
That’s the plan now, the one that has come together in my head perfectly.
I am in danger from ‘the husband’, and whatever happens now, I had no choice.
I glance in the mirror as I leave the house, watch the way my eyes fill up with tears that I have to blink away.
I am far away from sixteen with my whole life ahead of me. But I can’t let that upset me. I have to keep moving forward with my plan. One day I will have everything I want if I keep movingforward like a shark. In the mirror I smile, baring my teeth that are not sharp and dangerous. I close my mouth, practise a pout, lick my lips so they shine.
Actually, I think I might be dangerous – just dangerous enough.
FIVE
Lana
Every Monday morning, at 8.55 a.m., I allow myself a full minute of resenting Ben for putting me in this position. The only time I could fit in a session with Sandy is Monday mornings at 9 a.m., which means that every Sunday night I have to check to make sure that either my mother or Oliver remembers that they have to get to my house at 8 a.m. so that I can leave in order to get to work on time. Since Iggy started school, I have prided myself on dropping him off every morning he’s with me, even though he has to stay in after-school care or get picked up by my mother or Oliver in the afternoon.
I have seen Sandy twice now, delving into her marriage and her relationship with her husband and seeing clearly the classic pattern of the abuse cycle she is in. I want to help her but it has meant giving up a part of my day that I value, and last night Oliver told me he couldn’t make it but Becky would be there.
This morning as I struggled to get myself ready and get Iggy’s lunch packed, Becky arrived, clad head to toe in skin-tight exercise gear with her auburn hair in a high ponytail and a broad grin on her face. She was literally fizzing with energy.I’ve met Becky a couple of times and she seems determined to be friends with me. I am determined to find a way not to hate her on sight every time I see her because she’s actually really nice. I understand my feelings and where they come from but that doesn’t mean that I can stop them entirely. I’m working on it, which is about the best I can do.
‘Oh, you look great,’ were Becky’s first words to me. ‘That colour red really suits you,’ she said, complimenting my jacket. ‘Is there anything I can do to help? You can leave it all to me. Iggy will show me what to do, won’t you, little man? I may be coming more often now that Oliver has a new client because they can only meet on a Monday morning. I hope that’s okay with you because I’m so happy to help. But if it’s not, I totally get it and Oliver will just have to work something out. You’re the mother and you get to decide.’ She spoke quickly, almost breathlessly, determined to get the words out so that I would know she was not trying to tread on my toes. I managed a tight grin and, ‘It’s fine. Thank you for helping,’ before I dropped a kiss on Iggy’s head and headed out the door so that I could be here before nine and take some time to resent Ben before I see Sandy.
People might think that therapists have the ability to sail smoothly through life because they’ve studied the human condition in such depth, but in the end, we’re just trying to get through the day like everyone else. I am having to work particularly hard to stay on an even keel when talking to Sandy. I feel like everything she says and does is a performance for my benefit and I can see exactly why Ben fell for her. If I were a man, I would have a hard time resisting the head tossing, the delicate tears and the beautiful smile that replaces them.
What I am not sure of is why. Why is she doing this? I want to get at the real reason, find out what is really going on in her marriage. Is she actually unhappy? Is her husband actuallyemotionally and possibly physically abusive? Or is that what she wants me to think?
I know that there are things Ben hasn’t told me, things that he is keeping to himself about exactly why he didn’t want Sandy to just leave the practice, and that’s something that I have been thinking about. He’s attracted to her but there’s more than that and I’m not sure exactly how to ask him the question.
A buzzing sound tells me that Sandy has arrived and I open my eyes, allowing my resentment of Ben to dissipate into the air.
I take a deep breath and get up, opening my office door and smiling at my patient.
I notice that the black eye is nearly completely gone now, just a faint smudge of yellow. If she did fake it, she was really committed to the process as I have watched it fade over the last couple of weeks.
‘So, you need to meet Mike,’ Sandy tells me before she’s even sat down.
I bite back some resentment at the command. She talks a lot about how much she loves her children and her husband and how desperately she wants to save her marriage. And she seems very distressed a lot of the time, but sometimes, I feel like she sees me as someone who works for her rather than someone who is working with her to help her.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ I reply as she settles herself on the sofa.
‘Why?’
‘You’ve told me he’s emotionally abusive and I don’t think there would be any value in bringing your abuser here.’ Each time I see Sandy, I study her carefully, aware, as I have been from the first time I saw her, that she is hiding something. I feel like every session with her is a test of my abilities as a therapist and it is becoming important to me to prove to myself that I can figure this out.
‘You know, I feel like you want me to leave him because you know how hard it will be for me.’
I shake my head. ‘Not at all, Sandy. I am giving you the same advice I would give any other woman in your situation. And I’m not telling you to leave him, just that I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to come to a session until you know what you want and you’re feeling stronger. This room should be your safe space, something for you and only you.’
‘It feels like you have a direction you want me to go in and you’re pushing me that way.’ She looks down at her hands and then casually pushes a cuticle back on a nail as though what she has just said is not a pointed critical accusation. The words sting as she must have known they would.
‘I would never push you in any direction. This is your life and all the choices are yours.’
Sandy looks up from her hand and then she nods and sniffs like she’s about to cry. ‘You’re supposed to help me, Lana, and I’m telling you that I want to save my marriage,’ she says. Grabbing her blue leather bag, she finds a tissue and dabs at her eyes delicately.
