Chapter 1
Linda
“I don’t mean to pry, but I might’ve looked you up a bit.”
I paused my writing, my pen hovering above the unfinished word on the paper as I returned my attention to the teenager across from me.
“Really?” I replied, grabbing my pen cover and making a show of capping my pen in an attempt to look unaffected.
She shrugged, maybe trying to play it cool as you would expect any kid her age, but I could see through the unease in her eyes. “It was a bit hard not to; it was all over the news.”
I gave no reply. Mallory was one of the quiet ones, and our sessions mostly consisted of her asking questions, answering questions and telling me things she felt only her therapist would understand, so I knew if she was bringing this up, she was definitely going somewhere with it.
“It said you grew up without your mother.” She continued, now wringing her fingers and avoiding eye contact. Her earlier attempt at nonchalance fizzled away with her words. “How did you do it?”
The question caught me off guard; it was definitely not one I expected from the sixteen-year-old. I expected whatever question she had to have something to do with my father’s death. It’s been a hot topic for a while, and it seemed to be what everyone ever wanted to talk to me about.
I never get questions about my mother, not ever. Everyone just assumed that if I didn’t mention her, then she didn’t exist.
“Why would you want to know that, Mallory?”
Her posture stiffened, and I could see her slowly crawl back into her shell. “I didn’t mean to intrude, Miss Linda, I was only—”
“It’s okay to have questions and curiosities, Mal, but when they’re about other people’s personal lives, you need to let them know why you’re interested.”
She paused again, but she seemed more relaxed than before and appeared to be picking her words carefully. A few seconds passed before she finally spoke. “I think my mom is going to leave my dad, and I don’t think she plans on taking me with her.”
“Oh, dear.” I muttered, ignoring the incessant vibration of my phone. Mallory was one of those delicate clients; all it takes is one event and she’ll come spiraling down.
“It’s okay; you don’t have to tell me anything. I just thought you’d understand better and maybe offer guidelines on how to make it work so I can start preparing ahead of time.”
The corners of my lips curved into a small smile.
Clients like Mallory had the trait of spotting little clues, linking them into an elaborate pattern and making the most insane deductions from them.
If they were very convinced about their deductions, they might go as far as finding ways to combat, avoid or handle an event that might probably never happen.
I didn’t tell that, though. I waited for her to say everything that led to her conclusion before going further to dissect the situation with her. It was a sensitive topic, and talking her through it momentarily distracted me from the chaos that was currently brewing in my life.
This was one of my favorite things about my job. Walking people through their situation and offering the help you know they need. Getting them to the point where they recognize the need for help and watching them get better under my guidance has always been the most fulfilling feeling.
Unlike physical pain, emotions left no visible marks. You don’t get to apply ointment on it; keep it clean and disinfectant till it heals, and the pain goes with it. Emotions left no visible mark, nor was there any way to soothe them directly. All you can do is deep work and wait it out.
Emotions are a great determinant of overall human wellbeing and performance that somehow gets overlooked. It is the driving force of every being, and I never understood why therapy was not as popular as clinics.
Knowing that I now stood the chance of losing all of these in the near future if I didn’t act fast was a thought that scared me more than death itself. This was the essence of my life, the one purpose I had, and I couldn’t see a life without it.
By the time Mallory and I were done dissecting her emotions and I was able to get her to understand the role of her patterns in exaggerating the events she must’ve witnessed, her soft smile and the change in her posture was all the encouragement I needed.
“Same time next week?” I asked as she prepared to leave.
“About that,” she slapped her open left palm against her temple, as if just remembering a major detail, “I’m going on this work thing with my dad so..”
“Oh, we could always reschedule.”
I trailed behind her as she made her way to the door, pausing at the exit. “I might make a new friend by our next appointment.” She said simply, but there was a lot more gratitude in her eyes, alongside a twinkle that announced her smile.
A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips, “I know you would, Mal.”
Door knob in hand, I watched her exit my office completely before I pressed the door shut, strolling back to my desk and collapsing into my chair, rubbing my brow as the day's tension finally caught up with me.
My muscles screamed at me to take a break.
Every inch of me was tethering at the brink of a crash down, but I couldn’t.
Maybe I was a coward, or maybe some realities were just too hard to confront, and the best way to deal with them was to keep running.
If it’s strong enough, it will catch up with you otherwise, I’d remain in the past where you’d never have to face it.
Tough talk for someone who has built a life around mental health and sitting with emotions. My clients would be ‘thrilled’ to see how I sit with mine.
The notifications from earlier came to mind, and I sat upright, deciding the ache in my head was a problem for later.
I scrolled through my inbox, finding a recently received mail from Mr Charlton; my father’s lawyer. A sense of dread overwhelmed me, causing my stomach to tighten with a churning anxiety as I clicked open the email.
Two lines in and I felt my entire energy drain out of me. My father’s will reading was fixed for today— unexpected news because Mr Charlton had only just told me today.
I sighed; it wasn’t entirely his fault, as he had on numerous occasions asked me to fix a date most convenient with my schedule, and I had always promised to but never did.
The feeling that the weight of the world had settled back onto my shoulder forced me to recline further in my seat. A knowing sense of dread overwhelmed me, settling in the pit of my stomach.
I have dreaded this meeting, knowing it would bring up memories of my father's passing, things I would rather not deal with yet.
It still felt like it all happened yesterday; the abduction, the long wait for news that never came, the eventual discovery of his fate, all of it still felt like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.
Since his demise, I hadn’t stepped foot inside the house, except on the day of his funeral. Even then, I hadn’t stepped foot, steeled myself, accepted condolences with a neutral expression, all the while counting the minutes until I got to run out and back into the comfort of my own home.
A part of me feared the will reading because, in a way, it slapped me with the harsh reality that he was actually gone.
I had been postponing this meeting, hoping to have some time to mourn in peace, but his lawyer's insistence on urgency left me no choice.
My fingers hovered over the reply button as I contemplated sending a text to reschedule or make a timing adjustment, but my father’s gentle voice echoed within me. “You have to rip off the band aid kiddo. Feel it all at once and let it go, or it festers into an ugly infection.”
True words of encouragement for a serial anxiety attack mistress.
A total irony in the life of one of New York’s most famed therapists.
You’d expect that I’ll have it all together; emotions well regulated, actions we thought out and regulated.
Well, I didn’t. I simply learned how to understand and interpret the emotions of others while empathizing with them too.
I wasn’t a fraud, but I understood the crippling power of emotions. It’s why I picked the profession in the first place. I tore a page from my DSM textbook and, honoring my father’s words, quickly texted “I’m on my way,” grabbed my phone and handbag before I could talk myself out of it.
I didn’t have that luxury anymore, not when my delay was about to cost me some of the most important things in my life. Hopefully, this hearing would fix everything. A legal transfer would be made, and I wouldn’t have to bother about things like being thrown out of my clinic.
As I pulled my coat from the chair, my phone buzzed with a text from Stephanie, my best friend and lawyer. I sent her a quick text, informing her of my unexpected detour as I gathered my things and headed out the door.
The drive down to his office seemed to take an eternity, my mind racing with multiple thoughts of her father and every other property-related issue that would be discussed.
As much as I hated having to do this right now, it’d be nice to get it over with. I pulled into the parking lot. I pulled out a lip-gloss from my purse and reapplied, watching my reflection in the mirror.
I made my way through the crowded lobby, weaving past strangers and making my way all the way to the conference room.
The tall floor to ceiling doors revealed the entirety of the room. It was empty, with long rows of chairs that stretched out in front of me. Rays of sunlight pooled through the windows as I hesitated just outside the door, heart pounding with a sharp unease.
I imagined for a moment how many times my father had stepped into this very room. Drawing in a deep breath, I pushed the door open, my bag firmly resting between both hands as I let my eyes wander about the room.
“Good day, would you care for anything, ma’am?” A voice called from behind, startling me slightly as I hadn’t heard anyone come in.