Page 12 of The Therapist
‘That sounds like a lovely gesture.’
Sandy nods and she sniffs, reaching for a tissue from the box on the coffee table in front of her.
‘I don’t know how we got here.’ When she feels the session is not going the way she wants it to, like when my sympathy and attention do not seem to be as concentrated as she would like, Sandy resorts to tears. I know this about her. I know a lot more about her than she would give me credit for.
‘And now, he’s all freaked out about losing his job and he’s getting angrier and angrier and the drinking…well, that’s getting to be over the top.’
‘It must be stressful to be in that situation,’ I tell her, ‘for both of you.’
‘He wants me to get a job. He says that now that the kids are at school, I can work and contribute. He told me he would give me the world, and to be honest, all he’s given me are two kids and a shitty house.’ The tears have dried very quickly and I can see anger on her face at where she finds herself.
‘Perhaps it would help things if you did have some part-time work. It might be something that you enjoy and it would mean that, if you do decide to leave, you already have something in place so that you can support yourself and your children.’
‘What kind of a job am I going to get, Lana?’
‘Well…’
‘Can I tell you something weird?’
‘You can tell me everything weird.’ I smile.
‘I was looking for something in Mike’s things last week, like his bedside table. I was looking for nail clippers because I wanted to clip the kids’ nails and I have one for them but of course that goes missing regularly.’
In my pocket, my phone vibrates with a reminder that the session is ten minutes away from ending. I have no idea where Sandy is going with this.
‘And so, I was searching through his stuff because I know he keeps a pair in there and I found…’ Sandy hesitates, her fingers returning to the bracelet. I wait. The normal desire to fill in a silence is something I battled with when I started my training but I have endless reserves of patience now.
Sandy looks directly at me. ‘I found a life insurance policy for me…like on me.’
I swallow. ‘And you didn’t know about it?’
‘No. We’ve never really discussed something like that, and even if we had, wouldn’t it make more sense to have one on him? I mean he earns the money and statistically men die before women.’
‘Did you ask him about it?’
‘No, I was…too scared to. I just put it back. I mean I’m sure there’s a logical reason. There must be, mustn’t there?’
A thought I can’t help having is that it’s possible that there is no life insurance policy. Based on what I’ve seen, it would not be out of the question for Sandy to make it up. But what if I’m wrong and it does exist because if it does, that’s not good. It’s problematic and very concerning. I am pleased that I get to meet this man next week now. Why take out a life insurance policy on a thirty-six-year-old woman without a job? Perhaps I have been misreading this situation?
My phone vibrates again. The session is over. I would let it go on longer but I have another patient.
‘Sandy, perhaps this is something we should discuss between us another time.’ I don’t want her to bring it up with Mike when they are alone and she has no protection, not until I know what’s really going on. I suppress a shudder as I wrap up the session.
‘You’re right,’ she says. ‘It’s better not to confront him about anything the first time he sees you. I want him to feel relaxed, you know.’
‘I understand.’ I glance towards the door.
‘Oh God,’ she says, pulling out her phone, ‘we’ve gone over, sorry. I could talk to you all day.’
‘It’s fine, it’s only by a few minutes. I’ll see you next Monday with Mike.’
I open the office door to let her out into the waiting room.
Kirsty and Ben are standing together, each holding a cup of coffee, gazing at each other in a way I find perturbing. I raise my phone a little and snap a photo of the two of them although I have no idea why I do that, probably to torture myself with later. I really do need to talk to SueEllen about a lot of things.
I clear my throat, flushing a little at the idea that I have done something so strange. What if they’d caught me doing it? Kirsty jumps when she sees me. ‘Oh, Lana, Ben got me coffee.’ She giggles as though I have said something funny and then she darts behind her desk and sits down, ready to process Sandy’s credit card.
‘Same time next week?’ she asks Sandy, who is staring at Ben, her arms folded across her chest.
