Emily Reade is a psychologist.
I felt her pain, but my words weren’t going to her. She wasn’t listening to my strategies that I honestly didn’t know why she was coming to a psychologist in the first place. But then again I had a few patients like her, with these patients you had to let them ramble on about their lives and problems until they release all their stress at you, that’s where they look at you with help screaming in their eyes. This patient, Marissa Leichhardt, just started seeing me a few weeks ago. I was only getting to know her and seeing where her life is at currently.
I swiftly looked back at my watch, 5.03pm. I looked up at her and waited for her to pause to take a breath as she rambled on.
“I mean, how dare he come to my driveway and demand to see the kids! They’re my kids! I carried them in my stomach for 9 months!” she sighed.
“Marissa, breathe. You need to calm down.”
“Okay, okay,” she breathed in slowly. “I’m fine.”
“I’m thinking we should talk about your kids next session,” I wrote on my clipboard.
“The session is over?” she asked.
I nodded, “Yeah it ended 5 minutes ago.”
“Oh, well I must hurry to get home and get dinner for the kids. Thank you for listening to me Doctor Reade,” she smiled and grabbed her bag off the floor and stood up.
“It’s what I’m here for,” I told her and opened the door to the corridor.
As soon as Marissa walked out I sighed and slumped my shoulders and glanced at our receptionist Carly Hail who chuckled at me. “Long day?”
I nodded, “I sometimes hate my job.”
“You just need a real person with real problems,” she said as she reached the office door to leave.
“I do,” I unbuttoned my shirt and sat at her desk and waved her goodbye.
I stretched myself on the office chair and shut my eyes and briefed on today in my head. Overall was tiring but it was good enough. Even though I was a psychologist, I liked focusing on people with mental disorders. I am always interested in how their minds work and how they interpret daily events. I don’t have one patient that has a mental disorder, but the other psychologist that worked here Darren Simmons had plenty. I guess because he has been working in this career for 10 or so more years whereas I’ve started 2 years ago. I’m one of those young psychologists out there.
I opened my eyes and saw my fellow workmate Darren standing in the room and looking at me and trying to hide his laugh. I look down at my shirt and realise that it was unbuttoned. I gasped and hugged myself, “What are you doing here? I thought you went home!”
He laughed at me, “Nah, I just had to do some last few things before leaving. I see you have already made yourself at home in the office.”
“Oh okay, I see...” I searched the floor. I was too embarrassed right now.
“Well, I should be going. Lock the office okay?” he gave a genuine smile. Darren was a good looking for a man in his 40s. He looked younger than he was and had a lean body, he probably works out.
I nodded, “See you Monday.”
“Yep, have a good weekend. Nice bra Emily,” he chuckled before exiting the office.
I rolled my eyes, who cares it was a hot summer day today and I felt the need to unbutton my shirt. At least I had a waist high skirt on so it covered most of my torso. I was too lazy to get home and so I slumped my back onto the chair again and glanced around the room.
I was deciding what to do for the weekend and contemplating on getting my nails done when a man let himself into the office. I cussed and quickly buttoned up my shirt and looked up at him from the desk. He didn’t come to the desk like everyone did but stood in the middle of the room, his face showed panic and anxiety. I stood up and slowly walked up to him. “May I help sir?”
He looked at me with wide eyes then looked down. His lips quivered and so did his shoulders underneath the black hoodie he was wearing. I analysed him, he didn’t look older than 30 but he looked like he needed a shower with his dark hair all over the place and his hoodie looked like he’s never washed it. He seemed like he was in deep anxiety and it was best I didn’t stand close to him in case he might get freaked out.
“Sir?” I tried again. I really wished Darren was here to help out.
His hazel eyes slowly looked up at me, “I need help.”
“I’m here to help, would you like to sit here?” I gestured at the couch beside me.
He nodded and sat and watched me sit beside him, making sure I had about metre distance from him.
“I’m Doctor Emily Reade, and I’m a psychologist. I’m here to help,” I told him softly.
He nodded, “Emily, I am so fucked up. I had the urge to jump in front of a truck just down the road from here, and that’s not the only time I’ve had the urge to kill myself.”