‘You don’t think I need therapy, do you?’ I ask pointedly, frowning. ‘Last night in the restaurant was just… it was just amoment. I had a silly moment last night, that’s all. It’s not like that was the real me. I was just momentarily upset about the situation – like anyone would be – and some horrible dick leapt on the chance to film and humiliate me. I’m not the one in the wrong here. I’m not the one who should be punished. The guy who videoed and transcribed my break-up is the one who needs therapy!’
‘I think everyone needs therapy,’ Sam shrugs. ‘And if it’s the only way you get to keep your job, it would be worth it, wouldn’t it?’
‘But I’ve had a bunch of therapy! Every therapist has,’ I cry. ‘It’s part of the training. I know it all! And it’ll make me look ridiculous! A therapist in therapy, ugh. It’ll undermine my credibility, and the viewers will see straight through it. They’re saying I have to do this to save my reputation, but it’ll ruin my reputation! Who’s going to trust a therapist who’s been ordered to go to therapy herself?’
‘Yeah, but who’s going to trust Tiramisu Girl?’ she points out rather brutally.
‘I thought I was Cheesecake Girl now,’ I mutter, and she shrugs again.
‘Tiramisu Girl, Cheesecake Girl, Cheesecake Woman – whatever. At least this could give you a clean slate.’
‘I don’t need a clean slate,’ I tell her sulkily. ‘I need none of this to have happened. I need Justin not to have dumped me when he was supposed to propose. I need arseholes not to have put it all on the internet. I need someone to go back in time and stop Spencer’s parents from ever having sex or procreating. What I reallydon’tneed is therapy!’
‘But what will you do if they sack you?’ Sam looks worried and I shake my head defiantly.
‘Fuck them!’ I yell furiously, not meaning a word of it. ‘I don’t need therapyor Morning Tea.’
Sam looks suddenly excited. ‘Hey, you know what you should do? Record a response video! We’ll tell the entire internet that they’re all stupid twats and that you did nothing wrong.’
Even in my fog of despair-cum-rage, I know this is aterrible idea. Sam is the queen of terrible ideas. ‘Er, thanks, dude,’ I hedge. ‘But I have been heavilyencouragedto avoid the internet altogether for now.’ Sam looks disappointed as I shake my head. ‘No, I know what I’m going to do. I can go back to properly seeing clients at my office. I’ve barely been there for more than a few sessions a week in months.’ Something occurs to me and I sit up straighter. ‘And there’s the book! I’m supposed to be writing my book and the publisher has been asking when I’ll get the first draft in. This will give me a bit of time to really focus all my energies on writing it.’ I pause, nodding. ‘This will be good for me, actually. I’ll hide away for a few months, writeOrange Flags: Your Ultimate Guide to a Healthy Relationship, and when I’m finished, the internet will have forgotten all about any stupid viral videos of me. I’ll be able to emerge from my cocoon like a beautiful therapist butterfly.’
‘Or a beautiful therapist daddy long-legs.’ Sam stands up, her wings flapping.
I nod enthusiastically. ‘Sure, like a beautiful therapist daddy long-legs. AndMorning Teawill be begging me to come back. I’ll probably get an offer from one of the rival shows, and then there’ll be a bidding war over me.’
I meet Sam’s eyes and there is pity there, clear as day.
‘Hey,’ she says brightly, very obviously changing the subject. ‘I know what’ll distract you from all of this today!’ She raises an eyebrow. ‘Let’s go trick or treating. I’ve already got my daddy long-legs costume on. You can go as that viral Tiramisu Girl. It’s sonow.’
‘Oi!’ I say, laughing despite myself. ‘And what are you talking about, Sam, it’s the 2nd of June, Halloween is nearly five months away.’
She grins. ‘So what? Who says you can’t celebrate early? You know some people start celebrating Christmas in June. Halloween is far more reasonable.’ She looks at me faux-sternly. ‘And if anyone asks us what we’re doing, we’ll say it’s our trick, and then we can demand treats.’
‘Idowant treats,’ I admit begrudgingly.
‘I think seeing some ghosts might make you feel better.’
‘It would certainly make me feeldifferent,’ I confirm. ‘I’m not sure better is quite the right word.’
Sam looks thoughtful. ‘Why are all ghosts from the Victorian era? Like, if ghosts were real, you’d think you’d see them from all different times. Where are all the caveman and dinosaur ghosts?’
‘Maybe they’ve had long enough on earth to torment the living, and have passed on?’ I offer and Sam accepts this logic.
‘Okay, that makes sense. So, then you’d think the biggest number of ghosts would be, like, from recent times. But you never hear about some embarrassing nineties ghost wearing a crop top and Spice Girl white wedge trainers, on the arm of some loser ghost in a bucket hat and a bomber jacket.’
‘Good point.’ I nod, then peer at her closer. ‘We’re not really going trick or treating, right? Aren’t you meant to be working?’
Sam works from home on a Friday. In theory, at least. She doesn’t actually get much of anything like work done.
Before she can answer, our Ring doorbell goes and we both jump.
‘Who the hell could that be?’ I ask in a whisper. No oneevercomes here. Even the Amazon delivery driver just lobs our loo roll deliveries over the back fence. It usually bounces into the neighbour’s bird bath but who can be bothered to complain? Once the loo paper dries out, it works just fine.
‘God knows,’ Sam whispers back, as we stare at one another, me with horror, her with exhilaration. She loves the drama. ‘Do you think we should check the video?’
‘What if they see us checking?’ I ask with a tremble.
‘We’ve been through this,’ she sighs. ‘It’s not a two-way video, Liv. They can’t see through the camera.’
