Page 9 of The Therapist

‘Anyway, my parents have nothing to do with anything. I see them on Christmas and we visit over the summer holidays but I can’t count on them for help or anything.

It’s not like they have a lot of money and so…

if Mike and I get divorced, I will be one of those single mothers living in poverty.

I know that for sure. And I refuse to live in poverty. ’

‘You can get help; the government has a lot of programmes available to help single mothers and he would have to pay child support…’ I try to imagine Sandy having to watch every penny but can’t.

Her clothes look expensive, her nails are perfect and diamonds sparkle on her hands.

She looks like a woman who spends time and money on herself.

But money can’t buy the happiness and peace she is desperate for. The therapist in me takes a step forward. Why are you being so harsh? I sit up straight in my chair, dismissing the judgemental voice inside my head.

‘Yeah,’ she snorts, ‘I’ve read about all the men who pay their child support.

It’s so easy for a man, you know, they can leave, they can just leave and make another life for themselves and that’s not fair.

We’re stuck with the kids and having to worry about feeding them and caring for them while we work – I mean, some women.

’ She waves her hand again. ‘You wait till you meet Mike; he’s really good-looking and charming and he will have someone else in his life like that. ’ She snaps her fingers.

‘But is that a reason to stay with someone who you claim gaslights you?’

‘Claim?’

I clear my throat, a little ashamed of myself. ‘I guess I’m wondering what is tying you to someone who makes your life very hard.’

‘I still love him.’ She shrugs. ‘I wish I didn’t. But I do.’

Again, I wonder if this is true.

There is a lot more to this situation than what she’s telling me and it will be a good thing to meet her husband so that I can be sure of what is and isn’t the truth.

We sit in silence for a few minutes as Sandy plays with the gold link bracelet she has around her wrist.

‘Mike gave this to me on our first anniversary,’ she says, smiling.

‘We already had a baby and I was…Felix was not a sleeper and I thought that I wasn’t going to survive.

I hadn’t even remembered it was our first anniversary but he came home early in the afternoon with flowers and this gift and he told me he’d booked me a hair appointment and he had a dinner reservation. ’

‘That sounds like a lovely gesture.’

Sandy nods and she sniffs, reaching for a tissue from the box on the coffee table in front of her.

‘I don’t know how we got here.’ When she feels the session is not going the way she wants it to, like when my sympathy and attention do not seem to be as concentrated as she would like, Sandy resorts to tears. I know this about her. I know a lot more about her than she would give me credit for.

‘And now, he’s all freaked out about losing his job and he’s getting angrier and angrier and the drinking…well, that’s getting to be over the top.’

‘It must be stressful to be in that situation,’ I tell her, ‘for both of you.’

‘He wants me to get a job. He says that now that the kids are at school, I can work and contribute. He told me he would give me the world, and to be honest, all he’s given me are two kids and a shitty house.

’ The tears have dried very quickly and I can see anger on her face at where she finds herself.

‘Perhaps it would help things if you did have some part-time work. It might be something that you enjoy and it would mean that, if you do decide to leave, you already have something in place so that you can support yourself and your children.’

‘What kind of a job am I going to get, Lana?’

‘Well…’

‘Can I tell you something weird?’

‘You can tell me everything weird.’ I smile.

‘I was looking for something in Mike’s things last week, like his bedside table. I was looking for nail clippers because I wanted to clip the kids’ nails and I have one for them but of course that goes missing regularly.’

In my pocket, my phone vibrates with a reminder that the session is ten minutes away from ending. I have no idea where Sandy is going with this.

‘And so, I was searching through his stuff because I know he keeps a pair in there and I found…’ Sandy hesitates, her fingers returning to the bracelet. I wait. The normal desire to fill in a silence is something I battled with when I started my training but I have endless reserves of patience now.

Sandy looks directly at me. ‘I found a life insurance policy for me…like on me.’

I swallow. ‘And you didn’t know about it?’

‘No. We’ve never really discussed something like that, and even if we had, wouldn’t it make more sense to have one on him? I mean he earns the money and statistically men die before women.’

‘Did you ask him about it?’

‘No, I was…too scared to. I just put it back. I mean I’m sure there’s a logical reason. There must be, mustn’t there?’

A thought I can’t help having is that it’s possible that there is no life insurance policy.

Based on what I’ve seen, it would not be out of the question for Sandy to make it up.

But what if I’m wrong and it does exist because if it does, that’s not good.

It’s problematic and very concerning. I am pleased that I get to meet this man next week now.

Why take out a life insurance policy on a thirty-six-year-old woman without a job?

Perhaps I have been misreading this situation?

My phone vibrates again. The session is over. I would let it go on longer but I have another patient.

‘Sandy, perhaps this is something we should discuss between us another time.’ I don’t want her to bring it up with Mike when they are alone and she has no protection, not until I know what’s really going on. I suppress a shudder as I wrap up the session.

‘You’re right,’ she says. ‘It’s better not to confront him about anything the first time he sees you. I want him to feel relaxed, you know.’

‘I understand.’ I glance towards the door.

‘Oh God,’ she says, pulling out her phone, ‘we’ve gone over, sorry. I could talk to you all day.’

‘It’s fine, it’s only by a few minutes. I’ll see you next Monday with Mike.’

I open the office door to let her out into the waiting room.

Kirsty and Ben are standing together, each holding a cup of coffee, gazing at each other in a way I find perturbing.

I raise my phone a little and snap a photo of the two of them although I have no idea why I do that, probably to torture myself with later.

I really do need to talk to SueEllen about a lot of things.

I clear my throat, flushing a little at the idea that I have done something so strange.

What if they’d caught me doing it? Kirsty jumps when she sees me.

‘Oh, Lana, Ben got me coffee.’ She giggles as though I have said something funny and then she darts behind her desk and sits down, ready to process Sandy’s credit card.

‘Same time next week?’ she asks Sandy, who is staring at Ben, her arms folded across her chest.

‘Same time next week?’ asks Kirsty again, and Ben meets Sandy’s eyes and then immediately drops his gaze to the floor.

‘Yes, same time. Lana is so good to talk to,’ says Sandy, her voice loud in the quiet office. And then she leaves quickly.

Ben turns and walks towards his office. It’s unfortunate that he was out here. He has back-to-back patients on a Monday like I do so I’m surprised he’s not in his office since Sandy and I went over time. Was he waiting to see Sandy? Or perhaps his next patient cancelled?

‘Come in,’ I say to Christina, my next patient, and then I glance at Ben, who is standing at his office door, staring at Kirsty.

Christina follows me into my office and sits down on the sofa. ‘I volunteered to be part of the school fundraising committee,’ she tells me with a triumphant smile.

‘How wonderful,’ I reply, knowing that she struggles with social anxiety. And as she tells me what else she has done with her week, I let my mind wander a little.

I think about Ben bringing Kirsty coffee.

There’s nothing unusual about it – he often brings me and Kirsty coffee.

The more unusual thing was the way they were looking at each other, and in front of a patient as well.

It felt like an intimate moment between the two of them and I hope there is nothing to it. It would be very unprofessional.

Admit you’re jealous. Kirsty is young and free and pretty, everything you are not.

And then I think about Sandy, who will come in with Mike next week.

I have no idea what he looks like. In my head he is a faceless man, someone who is treating his wife unkindly, but he will probably be nice and charming, ordinary.

I bring my attention back to Christina, who is talking about ideas for fundraising.

At the end of the day, I’m grateful to get away a few minutes early to pick Iggy up from after-school care. The sun is setting and the wind chilly when I get to the school.

I peek into the classroom where the after-school care group is and see my son sitting alone in a corner, something that’s unusual for him. Iggy is always surrounded by friends.

Opening the door, I call, ‘Iggy,’ and he turns and sees me. He’s been crying and my heart instantly thrums with alarm.

‘What’s wrong?’ I ask as he barrels into me, clutching my legs tightly. He doesn’t reply, just buries his head as the teacher in charge comes towards us.

‘Could I have a quick word?’ she says, taking off her glasses and letting them hang from the chain around her neck.

I crouch down and hold my son by his shoulders. ‘Let me talk to Mrs McDougall quickly, love. Go and get your stuff. We can get pizza for dinner tonight.’

The promised treat brings a smile to Iggy’s face and he darts off to pack up his bag and get his coat.

‘What happened?’ I ask the teacher when I am standing away from the other children. ‘He’s been crying.’