Chapter 3
As Belinda leads me into the main building, making pleasant chitchat most likely meant to soothe and welcome me, I can feel my mouth growing ever drier.
I take in vague snapshots of the pleasant surroundings—the well-groomed graveled path, the white paint still gleaming on the wooden walls, the smooth rocks scattered artfully along the road.
When I look closer at them, I see that they have self-help aphorisms written on them.
You contain the world.
The door will open when you are ready.
Dear God.
Belinda opens the door for me when we reach the end of the path and seems to notice my half a second of hesitation.
She leans in and puts her hand on my shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. The gentle pressure and soft warmth of her palm does calm me down.
I wonder if they have to practice that squeeze. If it’s part of the training the employees go through.
“It’s okay,” Belinda encourages me, with a small, gentle smile on her lips.
She’s about my height, and she’s wearing a white T-shirt tucked into black pants.
She doesn’t look like a nurse—with her clean-faced good looks and smooth, elegant voice, she might as well have been a mixologist at a molecular cocktail bar too upscale for my empty wallet.
“You’ve made a really brave decision coming here. I understand it must be scary.”
If you only knew.
“What’s she like?” I ask her. “Martina?”
Belinda’s smile remains fixed on her perfect lips. No part of her face moves.
“Well, I’ll let you get your own impression of Dr. Martina,” she says. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
There is a reception right in front of the door, a low, smooth desk in light polished wood.
Another woman is sitting behind it; she looks to be in her early thirties, her white-blond locks in a high ponytail, not a hair out of place.
There is a small name tag on her white linen shirt that says Anna, and she smiles at me before nodding at Belinda.
“Is this Isobel?” she asks Belinda, who turns to me and smiles encouragingly.
I feel like a kindergartner, like my mother is trying to get me to practice introducing myself to new people.
“Uh, yeah,” I say. “Hi.”
“So lovely to have you here,” Anna says to me, all sunshine and sincerity, and then she continues, to Belinda, “Dr. Martina is ready for her.”
Belinda turns to me.
“Right this way,” she says, leading me to the left, down the hallway.
There is no art on the walls, no photographs, just large potted plants with wide, sharp deep-green leaves standing sturdily on the floor and small, neat signs outside every door.
GROUP THERAPY OFFICE 2
PHYSICAL THERAPY ROOM 1
Belinda stops outside the last door on the left and raises her hand to knock, when something suddenly occurs to me, and I stop her.
“Wait,” I blurt out. “I left my bags in my car.”
Belinda, her hand still held high, looks at me and says:
“Yes, that’s perfectly normal. I will go get them for you and take them to your cabin while you’re having your talk with Dr. Martina.”
She smiles again, like an afterthought.
“But…”
Belinda lowers her hand. She reaches out and clasps my fingers in her own.
“I know you’re probably the kind of person who is used to having to take care of everything themselves,” she says quietly. “But part of this journey is learning to let yourself be taken care of. Can you trust that, if you let go just a little bit, we will make sure it gets done?”
I keep my face still, hoping my sudden bolt of anxiety isn’t showing.
What if they search my bags?
But she must see what I’m thinking, because that sweet serenity cracks, and Belinda lets out a laugh. It’s lower and harsher than her speaking voice, and I find I like it significantly better.
“Oh, don’t you worry,” she says, eyes crinkling at the corners, and, in a conspiratorial whisper, continues, “We’re sex positive here. No matter what toys you brought, I guarantee you we won’t judge. My Satisfyer got me through my last two break-ups.”
I laugh too, partly out of surprise, mostly out of relief.
It’s not a vibrator I’m concerned they will find.
“Thank God,” I exhale.
Belinda, still laughing a bit, raises her hand and knocks on the door before opening it.
“Dr. Martina?” she says. “Isobel Anderssen is here to see you.”