He had one of those full-body laughs that fills a room. The kind you can’t help but laugh along with. He slapped his knee and clapped his hands. When he finally stopped, wiping tears from his eyes, I realized the room hadn’t been perfect before.
The design was perfect. But the room needed this. Someone laughing in a way they didn’t intend to. Someone letting themselves be vulnerable. Someone connecting with their therapist in a way that allows them to feel safe enough to relax.
That is the space where growth begins. Even on a couch.
“So Doug,” I said once he was still. “What would you like to talk about today?”
Doug stared at his lap a moment longer, inspecting fingernails cut to the skin. When he looked at me, all mirth was gone. In its place was a soft, raw sadness I understood completely.
“Well, Simone”—he drew in a shuddery breath—“I think I’d like to tell you about my wife.”
“I think I’d like that too.” I positioned my pen over my pad, ready to take notes on my first real session with Doug Holloway.
CHAPTER 31
By Friday of that week, Brianne, Lauren, and I had taken to eating lunch at the breakroom table. It was a mostly comfortable silence. At my request, Brianne had the phone forwarded to voicemail. It rang on occasion, a single sound followed by a beep. Each time, Bri twitched.
“You can relax for an hour and enjoy your lunch, Brianne.” I pushed the lettuce on my plate around, nudging it aside to eat the few remaining chunks of cheese. As far as I was concerned, once you cleared all the good stuff out of a salad, it wasn’t worth eating anymore.
“She’s right,” Lauren said. Lauren ate her lettuce, which was a much darker green than mine. Probably healthier. But blech. “I like this new policy, Simone.”
“I’m not in a position to make policies yet, but this is a good start.” I wanted to accept the compliment at face value, but I couldn’t. And my so-called policy had really been more of a suggestion we’d all embraced.
Since Doug had given me a second chance, not a single client had canceled. My calendar was full again. There were mixed reactions to the new office, as well as my methods, but most of my clients were remaining open-minded.
I was making progress. They were making progress, too. It felt great. But it was exhausting. I no longer had the stamina of a naive young therapist treating human patients.
I had yet to dip my toes fully into the business-end of running theMagnolia. But one thing had become very obvious very quickly: the place was full of workaholics. Brianne spent a distracted 15-minutes at her desk, balancing a fork in one hand and the phone in the other. Both the medspa and the salon were booked solid. Lauren barely poked her head out between sessions.
The few times I’d run into her in the breakroom, her stomach growled so loudly we couldn’t carry on a conversation. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing given we were still on uneven footing. We’d yet to discuss our awkward encounter in Illusion Square or her relationship with Ray.
Even I knew the executives weren’t creating a sustainable business practice. How could we claim to be a wellness center if the people who ran it were perpetually underfed and overstimulated? Even if every division had assistance, there was no way we were operating at full potential. Not when the folks at the top barely gave themselves time to eat.
So, I’d suggested we all take one hour of our day away from our respective desks or clients to eat lunch and commune.
Almost everyone was on board with the idea.
“One day, the Twins will join us.” Brianne nabbed a french fry from the shared basket in the center of the table. Salads were great and all, but everyone needed a few french fries to perk up their day.
As if she’d heard Brianne, the massive door to the medspa opened. Lydia sauntered out with a client I recognized as one of my own. Cindrette offered me a friendly wave before hugging Lydia goodbye.
Lydia paused for a moment, one hand on the door to the medspa. Her eyes briefly met mine and held. I braced myself for either her wave of anger or the charm spell she liked to put on me. Neither came. Her lip twisted on one side, like an almost smile. She might have nodded her head hello. Then she disappeared inside.
I took it as progress.
“The Twins will join us for lunch one day. When they’re ready,” I said. I closed my eyes for a moment, to give myself time to assess whether I was casting a spell or speaking my hopes out loud.
As it turned out, there was a difference. I was learning to distinguish between my normal voice and my magic voice. It took more than hearing the change in pitch. I had to pay attention to my emotions, too, something I’d apparently stopped doing for far too long.
Given that most of my days I was still in turmoil, it was harder thanit should have been. But the more I practiced, the better I got. And if constantly analyzing what I was thinking or feeling kept me from accidentally hexing someone, then I was all for it.
Happily, my throat was clear and my stomach calm. I believed the Twins would come around if I gave them time. I didn’t want or need to manipulate them.
Or anyone else.
“They’ll feel better after the board meeting.” Lauren dragged a fry across the leftover ranch dressing from her salad before popping it into her mouth. I couldn’t explain why, but it made me like her better. “Can you believe it’s only two weeks from today?”
Not only was I improving at reading my own emotions. I was getting better at paying attention to others’, too, which was how I knew that Lauren was nervous. There was the slight flicker of her fingers, as if she were trying to keep them from trembling. Her voice was high and tight. And her toe tapped a consistent, but discordant, tune under the table.
