Page 8 of The Therapist

FIVE

Lana

I have seen Sandy twice now, delving into her marriage and her relationship with her husband and seeing clearly the classic pattern of the abuse cycle she is in.

I want to help her but it has meant giving up a part of my day that I value, and last night Oliver told me he couldn’t make it but Becky would be there.

This morning as I struggled to get myself ready and get Iggy’s lunch packed, Becky arrived, clad head to toe in skin-tight exercise gear with her auburn hair in a high ponytail and a broad grin on her face.

She was literally fizzing with energy. I’ve met Becky a couple of times and she seems determined to be friends with me.

I am determined to find a way not to hate her on sight every time I see her because she’s actually really nice.

I understand my feelings and where they come from but that doesn’t mean that I can stop them entirely.

I’m working on it, which is about the best I can do.

‘Oh, you look great,’ were Becky’s first words to me.

‘That colour red really suits you,’ she said, complimenting my jacket.

‘Is there anything I can do to help? You can leave it all to me. Iggy will show me what to do, won’t you, little man?

I may be coming more often now that Oliver has a new client because they can only meet on a Monday morning.

I hope that’s okay with you because I’m so happy to help.

But if it’s not, I totally get it and Oliver will just have to work something out.

You’re the mother and you get to decide.

’ She spoke quickly, almost breathlessly, determined to get the words out so that I would know she was not trying to tread on my toes.

I managed a tight grin and, ‘It’s fine. Thank you for helping,’ before I dropped a kiss on Iggy’s head and headed out the door so that I could be here before nine and take some time to resent Ben before I see Sandy.

People might think that therapists have the ability to sail smoothly through life because they’ve studied the human condition in such depth, but in the end, we’re just trying to get through the day like everyone else.

I am having to work particularly hard to stay on an even keel when talking to Sandy.

I feel like everything she says and does is a performance for my benefit and I can see exactly why Ben fell for her.

If I were a man, I would have a hard time resisting the head tossing, the delicate tears and the beautiful smile that replaces them.

What I am not sure of is why. Why is she doing this? I want to get at the real reason, find out what is really going on in her marriage. Is she actually unhappy? Is her husband actually emotionally and possibly physically abusive? Or is that what she wants me to think?

I know that there are things Ben hasn’t told me, things that he is keeping to himself about exactly why he didn’t want Sandy to just leave the practice, and that’s something that I have been thinking about.

He’s attracted to her but there’s more than that and I’m not sure exactly how to ask him the question.

A buzzing sound tells me that Sandy has arrived and I open my eyes, allowing my resentment of Ben to dissipate into the air.

I take a deep breath and get up, opening my office door and smiling at my patient.

I notice that the black eye is nearly completely gone now, just a faint smudge of yellow. If she did fake it, she was really committed to the process as I have watched it fade over the last couple of weeks.

‘So, you need to meet Mike,’ Sandy tells me before she’s even sat down.

I bite back some resentment at the command.

She talks a lot about how much she loves her children and her husband and how desperately she wants to save her marriage.

And she seems very distressed a lot of the time, but sometimes, I feel like she sees me as someone who works for her rather than someone who is working with her to help her.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ I reply as she settles herself on the sofa.

‘Why?’

‘You’ve told me he’s emotionally abusive and I don’t think there would be any value in bringing your abuser here.

’ Each time I see Sandy, I study her carefully, aware, as I have been from the first time I saw her, that she is hiding something.

I feel like every session with her is a test of my abilities as a therapist and it is becoming important to me to prove to myself that I can figure this out.

‘You know, I feel like you want me to leave him because you know how hard it will be for me.’

I shake my head. ‘Not at all, Sandy. I am giving you the same advice I would give any other woman in your situation. And I’m not telling you to leave him, just that I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to come to a session until you know what you want and you’re feeling stronger.

This room should be your safe space, something for you and only you. ’

‘It feels like you have a direction you want me to go in and you’re pushing me that way.’ She looks down at her hands and then casually pushes a cuticle back on a nail as though what she has just said is not a pointed critical accusation. The words sting as she must have known they would.

‘I would never push you in any direction. This is your life and all the choices are yours.’

Sandy looks up from her hand and then she nods and sniffs like she’s about to cry. ‘You’re supposed to help me, Lana, and I’m telling you that I want to save my marriage,’ she says. Grabbing her blue leather bag, she finds a tissue and dabs at her eyes delicately.

Squashing some irritation at the way she is talking to me and the way she seems to be using tears to manipulate me, I say, ‘I only want to help you.’

‘Please just meet him,’ she says, her tone changing as she smiles at me.

I can see that she is used to getting everything she wants.

It must be hard for her to find herself in a situation that she can’t control completely.

‘I know that it will make a difference if you do. I think that you’re really good at what you do, and I would never have believed this but you’re actually a better therapist than Ben is, maybe because you’re a woman.

I feel like you really understand me and what’s going on and I think that meeting Mike would really help things. ’

It’s a calculated compliment but I can’t help the good feeling that comes from her words. I know I’m a good therapist but it’s always nice to have it confirmed.

‘Okay,’ I decide to agree, against my better judgement. Perhaps meeting her husband will allow me to understand exactly what she’s hiding.

And I am curious to meet Mike, to see how he presents himself to the world. Abusers can be incredibly charming to strangers and it’s only behind closed doors that they let their true selves come out.

‘But, Sandy, you know from our discussions that change may not be possible for Mike. If he is gaslighting you, he needs to be able to acknowledge it and get help so that he stops his pattern from repeating.’

‘I know, I know.’ Sandy flaps her hand. Today she is dressed in tight blue jeans and a soft navy jumper.

She looks lovely in everything she wears and I know that if she got divorced, she wouldn’t struggle to find someone new to share her life with.

I need to get to the root of what is tying her to this man.

‘I do understand your feelings and you have every reason to want a functional relationship.’

‘Doesn’t everyone?’ She cocks her head to one side. ‘Are you married? Or…divorced, yes, I think you’re divorced.’ The barb pricks but I maintain a neutral facade.

I’ve noticed this about Sandy over the last couple of sessions. When she feels I am pushing her to leave, she begins asking personal questions and it makes me wonder if she did the same thing with Ben. I know enough to steer her away from my life.

‘We aren’t here to talk about me,’ I say in reply to her question. ‘We’ve never really discussed your parents. Do they or did they have a good marriage?’

Sandy glances at the clock on the wall as though ascertaining how much time is left in her session. An expression I’ve never seen crosses her face, a kind of shutting down.

‘They have a fine marriage. They live on the South Coast so we don’t get to see them as much as I would like.

I don’t think they understand me or that they even want to.

They’re happy enough although it’s a very, like, 1950s marriage.

My dad goes to work and my mum stays home and it’s always been like that.

I mean, I don’t work so it’s not only about work, more about how they behave with each other.

When I was a child, Dad always had to be served dinner first and Mum always made sure that the house was clean and my sister and I were behaving nicely before he came home.

He ruled the roost but he was a good father, except for…

I mean he drank some.’ Her gaze darts from side to side and it’s obvious to me that she’s uncomfortable now.

I make a note on the pad in front of me. Grew up keeping the secret of abusive father? Has chosen to repeat.

‘What did you just write down?’ Sandy asks, irritation flickering across her features, and I have a feeling she has inadvertently revealed something about herself, something true.

‘Exactly what you told me.’ There’s no way she can read what I’ve written from where she is sitting. I am in my usual leather tub chair, a present from my own father when I completed my studies.

‘Every good psychologist needs a comfortable chair to sit in,’ he told me on the card he wrote to go with the gift. However terrible my teenage years were, I always knew that I had the love and support of my parents. I still do.

If Sandy doesn’t want to discuss her parents, there’s something there that I need to pay attention to.