The Bad Therapist

Working as a therapist in a small town is not unlike caretaking for a graveyard, watching over secrets buried alive and doomed to die, never to pass to another. For a therapist like Elle, she was generally ok with this and the idea of carrying the burden of another, as long as she didn’t have to play God over what lives and what dies. Usually.

On a dark and rainy Tuesday in Elle’s office, the warm amber glow of her lamp was all that remained after the black clouds moved in, contrasting the harsh light from her computer screen beaming on her desk. Elle removed her glasses and rubbed her throbbing temples in circular motions, an increasingly frequent occurrence over her near twenty years of practice. She was taking advantage of a rather rare opportunity of a last minute cancellation by her client, Amelia, to catch up on her emails and progress notes until her last client of the day was to arrive. A new client. Elle returned her glasses to her weary eyes to read the name listed on the screen - Nikki Russell. With a swipe of her fingers, she clicked the name to open Nikki’s chart. Elle spied a note attached to the chart left by the office administrator, presumably at the time the appointment was scheduled. The note reported that Nikki was seeking couples therapy for her and her husband, Jack.

In the privacy of her office, Elle let out an audible groan. Ten years ago or so, she had unfortunately made quite the name for herself as the local go-to couples therapist, a reputation she never quite shook. In those ten years, Elle gladly spoke to every wayward man and willfully ignorant woman who stepped through her door hoping to repair relationships they spent months, or often years, grinding to dust before bringing to Elle in a bucket. Jane and Luke. Betsey and Jordan. Even Amelia, an individual client, yes, but one who came to every session to cry about her noncommittal boyfriend, John, cradling her phone in her hands and staring at his slick-haired picture on her lock screen. A sad replacement for his presence in the office. Truthfully, Elle’s desire to wade through the waters of resentment and contempt with others was as dry as her desire to return that gold band to her left hand, or to the man who gave it to her. Her desire to pay her bills and not become homeless, however, was as abundant as ever.

A notification popped up on her screen - Nikki and Jack were checked in. With an exaggerated deep breath, Elle closed her laptop and made her way down the flight of stairs to the waiting room.

“Nikki and Jack?” Elle announced in the room.

“That’s us,” a woman’s voice came from the corner to Elle’s left opposite the front desk and a large painting of a phoenix under a bright spotlight. One of many therapy-clichè-turned-art pieces hanging from the walls. Nikki stood, all five foot three of her, promptly. Her curly hair bounced as she did. Elle imagined her as a cheerleader at tryouts. She smiled and extended a hand to Nikki, who shook it quickly, before turning to the man to Nikki’s left.

If Nikki was a cheerleader, that made Jack the quarterback.

“Hey there! We were just talking about some of your artwork around here, it’s very… interesting.” Jack stood to his full height and smiled with all the charm he could muster. That smile faltered only when his eyes met Elle’s. She extended her hand, then hesitated, her eyes wide and brows raised. If he didn’t know any better, Jack would have thought she was choking. He willed his eyes to soften and closed the distance between his hand and Elle’s, but she turned back to Nikki, her face warm and tender again in a flash. Jack’s sharp jaw clenched.

“So nice to meet you both,” Elle quipped. “Did you guys have any issues filling out the intake paperwork?”

Nikki opened her mouth, but Jack’s smooth voice replied, “No issues at all, thanks.”

Elle looked through the paper packet, lingering only for a moment on the page with copies of their insurance card and photo ID’s. She looked back up at them with a wide, red-lipped smile. “Great. Let's head up and get started.”

Nikki and Jack followed Elle up the stairs and into her office. The couple sat awkwardly on the small blue loveseat, leaning apart toward their respective arm rests. Nikki noted the distance between them and how easily they always parted. She reached for one of the fluffy pillows behind her and held it in her lap, stroking the soft faux fur material and squeezing it a little more firmly than perhaps she realized. She was used to the tension with Jack. Taking a deep, courageous breath, Nikki smiled up at Elle and willed the tears brimming to return to whatever watery depths they came from before they spilled over. She couldn’t fall apart. Not yet.

Jack, on the other hand, ever the picture of cool confidence, sat with his ankle crossed over his opposite knee, draping both arms over the back of the sofa. “I have to say, you’re not exactly what I expected when Nikki said she scheduled us with a therapist,” Jack chuckled heartily. “To be honest I was picturing more of a… gray haired granny with some kind of shawl and giant beaded jewelry.” Nikki glared at Jack and fought the urge to swat at him. Thankfully, Elle chuckled as well. Nikki watched Elle gesture to her sleek black pants, high stiletto heels, and perfectly cut white blazer. “Well, looks can be deceiving,” Elle replied in a voice like caramel.

Nikki decided she liked Elle already, but she knew Jack would be a harder sell. In the car on the way there, just as he had for the last several weeks, he had argued against the appointment. Each time he had rolled his eyes, huffed, and said, “I don’t see why I need to come, I don’t need therapy,” and, “I think we just need to work on ourselves first.” Nikki stayed patient, though, day after day. Comment after comment. She kept every pang of hurt, every ember of anger, deep inside her because she knew this day was coming. She knew she would go to this very therapy office, with Jack, and it would fix everything. She waited, biding her time through every minute, every argument, for the moment when Elle finally asked, “So tell me what brings you two to therapy?” and Nikki exploded like a volcano of words and tears.

“We’ve been married for five years,” Nikki gasped between sobs, “I’m thirty years old, but since the day we first started dating we’ve been talking about having kids. I’m not getting any younger, and neither is Jack, but he keeps giving me reasons why we need to keep waiting, only I’m done waiting and to me, there’s no more reasons he could possibly give as to why he wants to keep waiting, you know? And he won’t just talk to me about it, he just makes up some bullshit excuse like, ‘it’s complicated right now,’ or whatever and I just don’t know what to do anymore!”

Elle kindly passed a box of tissues to Nikki before she proceeded with more talking and crying, Elle only interrupting to ask a brief question or two. Jack, however, remained unmoved, sitting like a gargoyle perched on his end of the couch, stoic and stiff. He waited and watched - not Nikki, but Elle. He waited for any sign or flicker on her face to confirm what he already knew - that she could not help them. Elle’s face remained soft and thoughtful, even if her blue eyes glinted like those of a jungle cat hidden in the darkness. That was OK, though. He could be patient. Jack decided long ago when Nikki first brought up this crackpot idea of couples therapy that he would need to make short work of it. He couldn’t not go at all, because she would just keep bringing it up endlessly. He just needed Elle to give him something, anything, he could throw in Nikki’s face to prove what a bad idea it was. Or, in an even better case scenario, confirmation from Elle that they don’t need to be there because the relationship was never the problem in the first place. Something which he had tried many times to convince Nikki of to no avail.

Nikki eventually came up for air and Elle turned to Jack. “So it sounds like you’re saying to Nikki that there are some barriers to feeling prepared to be a father, is that accurate?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” He said and hung his head, feigning sadness. “You know - I don’t want to just be a father, I want to be the best father, you know? And if I’m not ready then how am I expected to be the best father I can be? You know, like, my feelings should be valid too, right?” Jack preached. He figured he’d aim for the better case scenario first, of course.

Jack and Nikki argued back and forth on this for several minutes until Nikki gave a defeated sigh. “I wish there was just, like, a sign or something - something to tell us it is the right time.”

Elle nodded her head thoughtfully at this. Admittedly, it made her think of Amelia. “I’ve had other clients wish for the same thing. It would be so nice if we had guaranteed signs in life, wouldn’t it?”

Nikki nodded in agreement, as did Jack. “Yes absolutely, I need a sign, but sadly, signs are never guaranteed. What if I never get one, you know? It’s tough.” He added with a disappointed shake of his head, displacing a slick black lock of hair. This was his chance, while Nikki was looking at him with pained sympathy in her eyes, to really send it home. “I’m just… so afraid to be a bad dad like my dad was.”

Elle gave him an almost predatory smile, her blue eyes gleaming more brightly now than ever. “Yes, that is such an admirable goal. I’m so glad you’re here then, so we can work through your feelings of inadequacy and learning to appropriately hold space for them, as well as the resentment and miscommunication that appears to be negatively impacting the relationship as a whole.”

Jack ground his teeth, but forced a grateful smile.

“You know,” Elle continued, writing something down on her little notepad, “like, two birds with one stone?”

Head still bent over her notepad, Elle glanced up at Jack. He had a sudden urge to throw the stupid notepad out the window. “Two birds, one stone. Sure” he murmured and crossed his arms. A subtle squeak escaped Nikki’s lips and she reached a long-nailed hand across the distance between them to hold his tan, callused one. Jack’s foot bounced restlessly over his knee.

Elle’s predatory smile returned. “I’m so glad you agree.”

The more they talked, the more Jack disliked Elle. He guessed he would have better luck with plan B. By the time the hour had passed, Nikki was finally softening again while Jack was mentally already half way out the door.

“Before you guys go, can we schedule for next time? Next week preferably?” Elle asked, opening her laptop on her lap.

“Absolutely,” Nikki agreed, whipping her phone out of her bag and opening to her calendar.

Jack stayed silent, quietly searching his mind for an excuse to reject whatever opening Elle offered.

“How about next Tuesday at the same time, four o’clock?” Elle offered.

Jack started to speak, but this time Nikki’s voice came out. “Yes! That would be perfect, thank you so much for your time. You’re a literal angel.”

Jack clenched his fists inside his pockets. It was alright, he told himself, he would get out of it or he would get what he needed from Elle next time to claim conspiracy on the whole system, damning every therapist and the whole institution to the point that Nikki will never ask him to take part in this horrible machination again. It wouldn’t be hard, surely it wouldn’t take long before Elle takes Nikki’s side or challenges him beyond repair.

The couple descended the stairs and, after Nikki pointed out the painting of the phoenix to her partner, left the office back into the rainy darkness they came from.

Moments later, Elle found herself back in her office sitting alone. It was five o’clock now, which was her usual time to leave, but the storm outside left her in no hurry to run out the door. She sat at her desk, rubbing her temples once more. She was so very tired. The kind of tiredness that aches in your bones and joints. The kind of ache that comes from being tired for twenty years. She thought about Jack and Nikki. She knew she couldn’t help them. They were yet another couple that brought her their relationship dust and expected it to be miraculously turned into gold. She thought about Amelia. She thought about herself.

Elle responded to a couple emails, fixed a couple broken claims, called Amelia to see if they could reschedule her missed appointment to next Tuesday, and then sat staring at her phone for a long moment after they hung up. Finally, with a sigh, she packed up and left.

The next week on Tuesday at three o’clock, Elle met with Amelia as she always did and Amelia cried over John, as she always did. With a thoughtful look, Elle asked Amelia, “If the universe were to give you a sign to make a change in the relationship, what do you think it would be?”

Amelia sucked her teeth and thought a moment before responding, “Hell if I know. Maybe, like, a bird or something? I saw a lady online mention seeing cardinals - you know, the red ones? - As a sign that her grandmother is with her. So maybe I need a cardinal, too, or something.”

Elle smiled at the thought. So simple and sweet, just like Amelia.

By five-til four, Elle and Amelia were wrapping up and Elle had her laptop propped up on her lap once more. As the pair were scheduling for next time, Elle received an alert that her four o’clock clients, the Russells, were checked in. Elle slowly closed her laptop and stood to escort Amelia down the stairs to the waiting room. They chatted on the way down, discussing their plans for the upcoming weekend, when they finished their descent.

Amelia began walking to the door, throwing one more, “See you next week!” over her shoulder to Elle when she turned back around and came to a jarring halt.

“John!” She exclaimed breathlessly. “What are you doing here? I told you I had therapy today, but you didn’t have to–” Amelia paused again, one hand wrapped around Jack, when Nikki sprang like the cheerleader she was between them.

“Who the hell–” Nikki burst out, placing a long-nailed hand in Amelia’s face, but Amelia was ready and swatted Nikki’s hand away, grabbing Jack even tighter. Jack ran a hand through his slick hair.

“What the hell is your problem, lady?” Amelia bellowed with outrage.

“My problem? What is your problem! Get your trashy hands off my husband!”

Amelia’s eyes shifted to the man standing between them. Her grip on his jacket loosened and she turned a ghostly shade of white. Her eyes darted to his left hand, a rough, tanned hand she had seen and held many times. A hand where she had never seen a gold band on the ring finger, until today. Shock and terror gripped her heart, threatening to burst it open, as she looked to the other woman by his side. His wife.

The two women, tears filling their eyes and lips trembling, met each other’s gaze like meeting their reflections in a mirror. They watched each other slowly come alive in understanding, and in anger. Then, together, they shattered the invisible glass between them, picked up the jagged pieces, and turned on the cause of all their hurt. John Evan Russell Jr., or as his family knows him, Jack.

Jack’s eyes darted around, muttering as he frantically searched for a way out of the chaos threatening to consume him, but his eyes fell on Elle. She stood opposite them, casually leaning against a chair in front of the giant painting of the phoenix, covering all but the mighty bird’s red, outstretched wings made of fire. The glowing yellow spotlight above the painting shone down on her head like a golden halo. No predatory, menacing smile met her lips this time. She showed no hint of a smile at all. Her face as stoney and as cold as death.

Elle watched it all silently waiting and watching - not the two women, but Jack. She watched him piece it all together, like watching a toddler put together a puzzle. His face turned a shade of crimson not unlike the bird behind her, and his breathing accelerated to the point it was audible across the room, huffing and puffing brutishly like a gorilla. She watched him push the two screaming, sobbing women aside and flee through the door, never to return. When he was gone, the two women stood there as two halves of a painting taped back together - broken, but with new understanding.

Elle approached the stairs and offered the women a gentle smile, her blue eyes no longer sharp and gleaming, but soft and perhaps a bit more wrinkled and weary. The women looked to Elle as she gestured with one hand to the staircase, then looked to each other. After a long moment, they walked up the stairs to Elle’s office, together, with Elle following close behind.