"That's one of the things we'll talk about, dear," she said, glossing right over that particular topic. Not best to get into the hows and whys before the acutal session. Water in the kettle, tea in the cup. Anne hesitated for a moment, pulling a pen and notepad from the stash by the sink to leave Toby a memo (Don't forget your sandwiches).
"Harrison," she said slowly, "have you ever been to a therapist before? Do you know how they work?"
He nodded and smiled again. Phone does not equal presence, Harri. "Oh, okay." He got up and carried his glass to the living room, laying down on the couch. That felt like the appropriate thing to do. Therapy sessions always included couches, didn't they?
"No," he answered. "Not really. I didn't think I needed to go to a therapist, to be honest. I only know that they show people weird ink patterns and prescribe medication to the real loonies..." His voice took on a tone of graveity. "I don't need medication, right? I'm not crazy."
Anne paused, faltered. She wasn't entirely unused to that sort of thing; on a person's first therapy session--most often the adults--all those sort of stereotypical views of psychologists came out. If she was feeling particularly playful, she actually had ink blots and little bottles of medication at the ready. But this was out of the question at the moment.
"Not quite, dear," she said carefully. "Mostly, what we do is let you talk. Let you talk about whatever you like, really, and we sit and listen, and help you make sense of it. We aren't permitted by law to talk about our patients outside of the session room, and I certainly never would even if I weren't legally obligated. We sometimes do assign medication, but it's rarely the kind you fear. Mostly of the antidepressants variety, and only to those who really cannot manage through the day without them." Another pause. The kettle made quiet hissing noises in the background. "That doesn't sound too terrible, does it?"
Harrison ran his fingers through his shaggy black locks. It didn't sound bad, but he knew that he would end up opening himself a lot more than he wanted to and sharing things that he hadn't even told Gabe yet. He'd been wanting to tell him for the longest time, but...That would have to wait now.
"Well, no, that doesn't sound terrible, but neither did the play that Lincoln saw. So you'd sit and listen to me talk about the rising price of petrol for a full session?" He let a little laugh escape him. "That doesn't sound very fun for you." He paused. "I don't think I need antidepressants, luv. I'm not dep--I'm all right."
"If that's what you wanted to talk about," Anne said simply. There had been sessions where she simply discussed baseball, or the weather, or the mating habits of snails, with some of her patients. The younger ones often updated her on school or their best friends. The rising price of gas was hardly extraordinary. "It isn't about entertaining me, you know. If that were the case, I'd review films or critique literature."
Harrison chuckled again. He liked this lady. He didn't really know why, but it was pretty easy to talk to her. Maybe it's a tale thing...? "Okay, Anne. I'm in. When would we do this? Where would we do this? Is there anything special I should wear?" He looked at the clock. It was getting pretty late. Where was Gabe?
"Kilroy's graciously paying," he stated. "So...That was nice of him, eh? And I can pay you in charm...or maybe food? I work at a restaurant, you know."
Anne pulled another little post-it pad (there were several) from the basket by the sink, jotted Harrison's name down at the top. "I'm glad to hear it. I have a free slot open tomorrow at 3, if you like, or Tuesday at 1." The times she had checked earlier; always best to be prepared. "It would be in my office on the Upper East Side, dear, and you wouldn't have to wear anything you wouldn't wear normally. It isn't a business meeting, after all--just wear whatever's comfortable. Oh, one moment."
The kettle hissed to a high-pitched wine, distant over the earpiece, and Anne propped the mobile between neck and shoulder for a moment to tend to pouring the water and milk nd sugar. "Sorry, dear, the tea was ready. I'll have to call Kilroy then for billing, but you really mustn't worry about it. We'll work all that out when you get there."
Harrison thought about it. He was thinking about taking off work tomorrow - not because he didn't think he could work, just because he didn't feel quite up to it and he also wanted to be around in case Gabe needed a lift or C.P.R. He knew how his Cat got at times. "I think Tuesday at 1 sounds good. I have work at 3 but if I'm already in the city, that works out well. I will be in my work clothes, then, but." He laughed softly. "I'm sure you can ignore that."
He heard the kettle and it made him smile. He'd always loved that sound. "Thank you, Anne. I feel good about this, I think."
"Of course, darling. I'll have my secretary pencil you in for one o'clock." She jotted it down, tossed the notepad back in the basket, and returned to the table. "I won't mind if you're in your work clothes, dear, though if you'd like to come in something more civilian and change at my office, it wouldn't be amiss, either."
A brief pause. Anne tapped a finger against the edge of her mug thoughtfully. "That's the best way to feel before a therapy session, darling. If you haven't any more questions, I'll see you on Tuesday."
"That's one of the things we'll talk about, dear," she said, glossing right over that particular topic. Not best to get into the hows and whys before the acutal session. Water in the kettle, tea in the cup. Anne hesitated for a moment, pulling a pen and notepad from the stash by the sink to leave Toby a memo (Don't forget your sandwiches).
"Harrison," she said slowly, "have you ever been to a therapist before? Do you know how they work?"
Reply
He nodded and smiled again. Phone does not equal presence, Harri. "Oh, okay." He got up and carried his glass to the living room, laying down on the couch. That felt like the appropriate thing to do. Therapy sessions always included couches, didn't they?
"No," he answered. "Not really. I didn't think I needed to go to a therapist, to be honest. I only know that they show people weird ink patterns and prescribe medication to the real loonies..." His voice took on a tone of graveity. "I don't need medication, right? I'm not crazy."
Reply
Anne paused, faltered. She wasn't entirely unused to that sort of thing; on a person's first therapy session--most often the adults--all those sort of stereotypical views of psychologists came out. If she was feeling particularly playful, she actually had ink blots and little bottles of medication at the ready. But this was out of the question at the moment.
"Not quite, dear," she said carefully. "Mostly, what we do is let you talk. Let you talk about whatever you like, really, and we sit and listen, and help you make sense of it. We aren't permitted by law to talk about our patients outside of the session room, and I certainly never would even if I weren't legally obligated. We sometimes do assign medication, but it's rarely the kind you fear. Mostly of the antidepressants variety, and only to those who really cannot manage through the day without them." Another pause. The kettle made quiet hissing noises in the background. "That doesn't sound too terrible, does it?"
Reply
Harrison ran his fingers through his shaggy black locks. It didn't sound bad, but he knew that he would end up opening himself a lot more than he wanted to and sharing things that he hadn't even told Gabe yet. He'd been wanting to tell him for the longest time, but...That would have to wait now.
"Well, no, that doesn't sound terrible, but neither did the play that Lincoln saw. So you'd sit and listen to me talk about the rising price of petrol for a full session?" He let a little laugh escape him. "That doesn't sound very fun for you." He paused. "I don't think I need antidepressants, luv. I'm not dep--I'm all right."
Reply
"If that's what you wanted to talk about," Anne said simply. There had been sessions where she simply discussed baseball, or the weather, or the mating habits of snails, with some of her patients. The younger ones often updated her on school or their best friends. The rising price of gas was hardly extraordinary. "It isn't about entertaining me, you know. If that were the case, I'd review films or critique literature."
Reply
Harrison chuckled again. He liked this lady. He didn't really know why, but it was pretty easy to talk to her. Maybe it's a tale thing...? "Okay, Anne. I'm in. When would we do this? Where would we do this? Is there anything special I should wear?" He looked at the clock. It was getting pretty late. Where was Gabe?
"Kilroy's graciously paying," he stated. "So...That was nice of him, eh? And I can pay you in charm...or maybe food? I work at a restaurant, you know."
Reply
Anne pulled another little post-it pad (there were several) from the basket by the sink, jotted Harrison's name down at the top. "I'm glad to hear it. I have a free slot open tomorrow at 3, if you like, or Tuesday at 1." The times she had checked earlier; always best to be prepared. "It would be in my office on the Upper East Side, dear, and you wouldn't have to wear anything you wouldn't wear normally. It isn't a business meeting, after all--just wear whatever's comfortable. Oh, one moment."
The kettle hissed to a high-pitched wine, distant over the earpiece, and Anne propped the mobile between neck and shoulder for a moment to tend to pouring the water and milk nd sugar. "Sorry, dear, the tea was ready. I'll have to call Kilroy then for billing, but you really mustn't worry about it. We'll work all that out when you get there."
Reply
Harrison thought about it. He was thinking about taking off work tomorrow - not because he didn't think he could work, just because he didn't feel quite up to it and he also wanted to be around in case Gabe needed a lift or C.P.R. He knew how his Cat got at times. "I think Tuesday at 1 sounds good. I have work at 3 but if I'm already in the city, that works out well. I will be in my work clothes, then, but." He laughed softly. "I'm sure you can ignore that."
He heard the kettle and it made him smile. He'd always loved that sound. "Thank you, Anne. I feel good about this, I think."
Reply
"Of course, darling. I'll have my secretary pencil you in for one o'clock." She jotted it down, tossed the notepad back in the basket, and returned to the table. "I won't mind if you're in your work clothes, dear, though if you'd like to come in something more civilian and change at my office, it wouldn't be amiss, either."
A brief pause. Anne tapped a finger against the edge of her mug thoughtfully. "That's the best way to feel before a therapy session, darling. If you haven't any more questions, I'll see you on Tuesday."
Reply
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