Cover by Doris Barner
Therapy Calls
It was earlier than expected, and I found myself pacing the floor impatiently as I wait for Clair’s present appointment to leave. The receptionist was pretending to be busy as she typed annoyingly with her long, varnished nails. Perfectly filed with a hot shade of red, those nails irritated the hell out of me, but at the same time distracted me from my impatience.
She catches me staring, and then smiles with a touch of sarcasm before she begins a conversation in her most patronising voice.
‘Would you like a drink of water Laura?’
I realise I probably appeared manic again, and she was attempting to be dutiful as she did every third Tuesday of the month. I was just about to decline when the reception phone rang, in it’s crisp high pitched tone, I was puzzled by how that sound didn’t startle Jenny, the said receptionist.
‘Just one moment Laura.’ She picks up the phone and then immediately goes into full theatrical telephone voice. ‘Hello, Clair Bloomsbury’s office, how can I help?’
I listen to the conversation to try and calm my erratic thoughts but to also distract my busy mind. Jenny was struggling to make sense of the caller.
‘Ok, let's take it one thing at a time. Your name, please? Charlotte, Charlotte Loman…oh hello Charlotte, how lovely to hear from …oh, I see. Sleep paralysis…ok. The dreams are back, and now you have predictions? I will have a word with Clair when she is free and update her. We do have a spare appointment on Thursday at 2 pm? Ok, I will book you in. All the best.’
I watch her smirk and shake her head as she places the receiver down, and I wonder if she had any idea about the hardships of life. She looks over at me and smiles that pompous smile she has clearly perfected over the years of being her superior alter ego. ‘Water?’
I respond abruptly with a hint of sarcasm, ‘Yes please.’
She swivels ninety degrees on her chair before dismounting elegantly to fetch my glass of water. I quickly rush over to her computer to see if Charlotte Loman’s details are still on the screen, and sure enough, they were. I scroll down and read through her notes until I hear the heavy taps of Jenny’s stilettos coming from the corridor. As I swiftly move from behind the desk, I position myself back to being outside Clair’s therapy room. I didn’t read much, but I knew that Charlotte had premonitions, just like me and…just like me, …they were put down to the trauma of losing a loved one.
Jenny passes me the water, and I thank her apathetically. I take a sip and place the glass on a near by table as I hear the door click open. I barge past a suited man, who looks a little less erratic than me, and immediately attempt to make conversation with Clair. I could hear Jenny behind me, forbidding me to go into the room, but I ignore her.
‘It’s happening Clair, tomorrow. I told you it would be, and it is. I’m not sure what, but…’
‘One moment Laura.’ Clair interrupts me mid-sentence as she walks to the door and tells Jenny it is ok to see me now. She walks back to her desk, pushes her short blonde hair back and wipes her glasses as she talks.
‘Laura, we have been through this before, you cannot just walk in, I have to read your notes, and prepare.’
‘Never mind that. I need to know how many others are like me. How many people say they can see the future…like me. How many people are believed to be psychotic and say they can see the future?’
‘It is not as simple as that Laura, please sit down.’
‘What about Charlotte, Charlotte Loman? She sees the future.’
‘How do you know about Charlotte? That information is confidential. Besides which, Charlotte is in the best of health now through intensive therapy and medication.’
‘No, she isn’t, she has just made another appointment to see you and…’
I am interrupted once again by a phone call. This time it is Clair’s phone that is sat vibrating on the table. She apologises before she moves the phone and switches it to silent.
I sit quietly as new reality dawns on me. Things come in threes, they say. This is the third month of dreams and my third session with Clair. This was about her. I lean forward across her desk as another clue to the puzzle falls into place. The name that appeared on her phone.
‘This time it is about you.’ I speak slowly, and I look deep into her eyes to convince her of my sincerity.
‘You need to tell me who Kelly is.’
