Page 22 of The Therapist
‘No,’ I answer quickly, ‘of course not, I’m just a little worried.’
‘I promise if she calls, I will let you know immediately. I’m watching my email as well.’
Seventeen minutes late.
I leave my office, knock lightly on Ben’s door. We have sliding signs on our office doors to let each other know when we’re with a patient so I know he’s alone, probably doing paperwork.
‘Come in,’ he calls.
‘Hey, do you have a minute?’
‘Sure.’
Ben is at his desk, his computer open, and sunlight streaming through the window behind his chair. He smiles when he sees me, running his hands through his hair. ‘So many case notes,’ he says ruefully.
‘It does feel like more paperwork than anything else.’ I shrug and then I sit down on his sofa, identical to mine except his plump pillow is grey instead of blue. I furnished both offices when I got the lease.
Ben hasn’t added anything to his office and so the walls are bare, which I find quite jarring. Angela took her two paintings of vases of flowers with her when she left, along with the knick-knacks she kept on her desk, including a Newton’s cradle and a whole lot of stress balls. Ben’s desk is bare except for his computer and a notebook.
‘Did you contact the police?’ I ask and he nods.
Looking down at the notebook, he says, ‘After a bit of a runaround, I spoke to Detective Sergeant Peterson, who deals with online stalking, which I think is what this falls under because she is in the UK.’
‘And?’
‘He told me there’s not much they can do, but at least I’ve reported it.’
I bite down on my lip. Logically there is not much they can do to someone who is in a different country.
‘Is that all you wanted to ask about?’
I shake my head. ‘Look this is a bit hard but…Sandy didn’t turn up for today’s session and I’m…’ I don’t finish the sentence.
Ben sits back in his chair. ‘Concerned?’ he asks.
‘Yes, and I wouldn’t discuss this with you unless…I mean especially with what you’re dealing with but I’m apprehensive that something may have happened.’
Ben swings his glasses around as he thinks. His face looks very different without them, as though he’s naked.
‘It’s a cause for worry,’ he agrees. ‘I’m assuming she’s told you everything…’
‘Yes, but I am having trouble getting to the real truth of the situation, or at least I was. I find her a little…’ I hesitate, ‘unreliable.’
‘Well, we’re all unreliable narrators of our own lives,’ says Ben.
‘I know…I know that and I have been worrying that I am judging her a certain way when I shouldn’t be, and then I met him last week, her husband, and he…’ I shake my head. ‘He turned things around on her, said she is the one who makes things physical. I mean he seemed to be telling the truth but then so did she and…’
Ben puts his glasses back on. ‘That’s one I haven’t heard before. I mean it’s amazing that you even got the guy to come in. But she actually never mentioned physical violence to me… She kind of skirted around it. I always suspected it but she never actually used the words.’
‘But you saw the black eye – I mean the first time I met her she had a black eye and when I asked about it, she told me she walked into a door…not that I believed that.’
‘Yeah, right, she told me’ – Ben runs his hands along his desk as he thinks – ‘she told me that her son had a temper tantrum and threw a toy at her.’
I sit with the vastly different reasons Sandy has given us for a moment.
‘That’s disturbing.’
‘Yeah, I agree with you,’ says Ben. ‘It’s a sure sign that something very wrong is going on.’
