Page 21 of The Therapist
‘Kirsty’s right,’ I say, ‘you should report it to the police.’
‘She’s in the UK and I’m hoping it’s just an idle threat.’ He shrugs his shoulders, and I can see that while he is hoping that’s the case, he’s also worried that it might not be.
‘But what if it’s not? Please tell me you’ll go to the police.’
Ben takes his glasses off, squeezes his nose and rubs his eyes. ‘You’re right. I’m being stupid.’ His accent is stronger when he’s distressed, the words more clipped and pronounced.
‘It’s absolutely the right thing to do and I know how awful this is for you. I would be terrified if someone turned up at my house.’
‘Yeah,’ he agrees, ‘especially since you have Iggy.’
I bite down on my lip, feeling a shiver run through me at the idea of a patient coming to my house, seeing where I live, knowing I have a son.
‘I will contact someone today. Anyway…’ He stands. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I should have.’
‘It’s fine, Ben, it sounds like a horrible experience.’
‘It was,’ he says, standing by my office door, ‘and it’s part of why I really didn’t want to send Sandy off to another therapist. I needed someone I could trust taking care of her so I wouldn’t have to go through it again. I think if this woman, Carla, if she had found the right person, a new therapist, immediately, it would have been fine. But you can’t always trust a patient to find someone else or to do the right thing for themselves.’
‘I understand,’ I tell him and I do. You can show a patient a path to take but you can never guarantee they will take the first step. I knew there was more to what he told me when he askedme to take on Sandy. And now that I know, I feel deeply for him. It would have been very traumatising.
‘I’m here for you if you need to talk,’ I tell Ben as he opens my office door.
‘Thank you,’ he says with a smile. ‘Working here has been kind of a blessing really. It feels safe and the patients are interesting and I’m just really grateful you took a chance on me, so thank you.’
‘No problem, Ben,’ I reply with a smile and I am suddenly glad that I did take a chance on him. He needed someone to give him some help and it feels good that I got to do that. I’m so glad he confided in me since it explains a lot about the Sandy situation.
Looking at the time, I see I have twenty minutes until she gets here so I power up my laptop and put all other thoughts aside as I get some work done.
At 8.55 a.m., I close down my computer and sit in my chair with my notebook, ready to speak to Sandy. Kirsty usually lets me know when a patient is in the office so I know Sandy hasn’t arrived yet but I’m sure she’ll be here soon.
She is not here at 9 a.m. and I find myself staring at the clock on the wall in my office. Sandy’s words haunt me with every minute that passes and she doesn’t appear.
I’ll be here next week unless he kills me.But she laughed after she said it, told me it was a joke, and then she sent me a text reassuring me everything was fine.But that text didn’t ring true.
I should have reported it, both the statement and the text that I didn’t quite believe. It’s my duty as a therapist to talk to the police when someone is in immediate danger but all along, Sandy has asked me not to. And all along, especially after what her husband said last week, I have been unsure about the truth.I am still, even now, unsure about which of these two people, Sandy or Mike, is telling the truth.
Sandy is ten minutes late. Just caught in traffic, I try to reassure myself, but it’s an average Monday and I have scrolled through the latest news on my phone. If there had been an accident big enough to cause traffic delays, it would have been reported. Perhaps she’s not coming because she’s afraid that I’ll try and convince her to go to the police.
I shift in my chair, uncomfortable with that thought. I’ve been suspicious of her but I should have made her feel more supported. I should have told her that I was going to the police and she needed to come with me. I shouldn’t have let her veiled threat get to me but should have seen it as what it was: a cry for help. I should have forced the issue but even as I think this, I know that doing that could have been a terrible mistake.
Sandy is now fifteen minutes late.
I take out my phone and call her number.
‘Hey, it’s Sandy. You know what to do at the beep.’
‘Hi Sandy, this is Lana. You seem to be running late for our session. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.’
When I end the call, I immediately regret making it. I’ve had plenty of patients not turn up for their sessions and it’s only irritating because it wastes my time. There is always an explanation and they are charged for the missed hour anyway. But something about this feels off, wrong.
I get up and go to my desk, press down on the intercom.
‘Yep,’ answers Kirsty.
‘Sandy didn’t happen to contact you and you’ve forgotten?’ I ask.
‘Have I ever forgotten?’ Kirsty replies and I can hear the edge in her voice. She thinks I’m questioning how she does her job.
