I watched as her demeanour changed when she picked up the phone to see the caller. She didn’t answer. Neither did she put the phone on silence. She just looked away. Her features looked distressed. Who could the caller have been? I wondered. My friend who had just been laughing some minutes back now looked as though she partook of the ice bucket challenge. Her face was completely flustered.

I’m not one to dig into personal concerns except people willingly share them with me. Well, that’s why I get paid for my listening and confidentiality as a therapist. But I still couldn’t help but ask her.

“Who was the caller?” She looked a little shocked as though she wasn’t expecting me to notice.

“It’s him.” She swallowed hard. Fighting the tears that soon began to stain her artificially blushed cheeks.

Him.

What is it about men that made women cry? Why do they wield such power to open the floodgates of tears for even the strongest of all women? That I would never know.

As I tried to console her, she freely opened up as to how they had been having issues in the relationship. He’d beat her and later buy her some expensive gift as an appeasement. My one night of having fun away from work got ruined as it turned out to be another therapy session.

By the time we were done, she was happy and empowered. While I looked drained and ordered another drink.

“He’s here to pick me up.” She said after taking his call. I could see the asking-for-permission look on her face.

“Oh please don’t worry about me. Go have fun!” I encouraged. She scampered away with a lot of thank yous.

I was back to being alone. The way I had always been. Lately being alone scared me. Lately- that’s because prior to this period, I had always savoured my aloneness. I’d say being a custodian of other people’s secrets isn’t so good after all. It keeps me up at night, tossing and turning.

Now I was taking some drinks because I was down. I just had to cover up my own heartbreak and be there for my friend. But now that I needed someone to be there for me, there was no one in sight.

It’s funny how some people are always seen as rocks. So solid they don’t have weak moments. So people never really bother to find out how they are. I’m one of such rocks. And men, I must say this rock is breaking.

I’ve been having a lot of strange dreams lately; dreams that I can’t seem to figure; dreams that keep me away from sleep.

Insomnia.

I can’t bear to go back home now, even though my friend bailed on me.  It’s grave back there.

Now that I think of it, was I right to tell her she could still go back to her man who beats her? Or was I too carried away by my problems to actually think things through. That’s why therapy sessions should be saved for my couch, not a bar stool. Sighs.

©Mfon Etuk, 2016

 

 *******

 Hey guys, sorry there’s no Rachel’s musings this week, please bear with me. Plus, you might be seeing a lot of unrelated fiction stories like this, just enjoy it and stop tryna piece them together 😉  Remember the purpose of the Friday fiction is for entertainment and to help my fiction writing skills. Please feel free to share improvement tips or topics you’d like me to write about. Thanks and God bless! ❤ 

8 thoughts on “The Therapist

  1. Great story! I think a lot of us are kind of placed as a “rock” & end up playing counselor, when really, we all need counseling at times. Great job showing that! 😃👍🏻

    Like

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