For a moment, I consider lying so that he’ll leave me alone. I don’t want to talk about Aaron. I don’t want to discuss how the fact that we were so casual, and that I jumped the gun by moving here, is the reason why no one in his family knew to even invite me to the funeral. Or that he didn’t bother to mention to me that he had a girlfriend who I discovered when she posted a tear-jerking goodbye post to him on social media.
But then I remember just how connected John is to every damn therapist in Manhattan and decide lying to him would probably come back to bite me in the ass, so I tell the truth.
“No, I never made it to any of the meetings, but like I said, I’m fine.”
John does the thing that he always does with his hooded eyelids when he’s stressed, gently pulling the delicate skin down with his thumbs and pointer fingers as he contemplates what he’s going to say next.
“You’ve always been a bit different, Kat. I admit it took me a while to get used to your therapeutic style. I wasn’t sure if it was going to work in our practice, but there’s a place for your approach as long as it’s still executed with this practice’s values. You need to be reliable and on time for your clients. You need to respect their time as well as your own. I’m giving you a hell of a chance by working with Dakota Warner. Don’t let whatever internal war you’re having with yourself over your friend’s death ruin this opportunity. If you say you’re fine, then do better. If you’re not fine, then do the work and seek help.”
I fight the tears that are attempting to pool in the corners of my eyes. John is like a father figure to me in some ways, and I feel as if I’m letting him down with my behavior. Our relationship is strictly professional, therapist to therapist, but there’s something about his demeanor which reminds me so much of my own father. At least the memories I have of my father.
Pat and I lost both of our parents in a car crash when I was still in high school and Pat was a freshman in college. Losing them so abruptly was a pivotal point in our lives. My sister dropped out of school, came back home, and took care of me so that I could finish school and wouldn’t have to live with a distant relative. Now she owns a successful sports bar with her husband Bobby, and spends a lot of her time raising my nephew, Nate.
“You need to trust that I’m good at what I do and how I do it,” I tell John. “I will work with Mr. Warner and it will be fine.”
“I trust you within reason, Kat. Remember, you can do your own thing, but within boundaries. This is still a practice bound to a code of ethics and standards.”
“Of course.”
“We can never talk about a client in front of a client again. That was completely unprofessional.”
“Agreed.”
“And I expect you to keep me updated on Mr. Warner’s progress.”
“Of course.”
“Then I believe we’re on the same page?”
“I believe we are.”
“Good luck today.”
Yeah, I’m going to need it.
katrina
When Dak Warnerenters my office at ten o’clock on the dot, this time I’m ready for him.
Well, I thought I was.
But my stomach has other plans.
If I wasn’t already queasy from a night of margaritas, I would swear that the sight of this man makes me feel literally ill.
“Good morning, Mr. Warner,” I offer in an attempt to be cordial.
“You’re here,” he says flippantly, with an odd smile on his face.
“In all my glory.”
Hell, it’s too early for all this sarcasm.
“Is this considered session one or session two?” He asks flatly.
I watch him closely as he takes a seat on the couch. He sits in the same exact spot he did before. Interesting. I make a mental note of it. He must be a creature of habit. Routine.
“Last week hardly classifies as a session,” I explain. “Today is the first.”
