AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No, Wingo. I have to go now,” Camille said and hung up.
“Everything okay?” Geraldine asked, worriedly. That was so like Geraldine to always want to look after Camille. With her tightly permed gray hair, and colorful pantsuits, Geraldine was smart, efficient, and grandmotherly. A perfect combination for a receptionist.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Camille said, waving away her concern. “Except that Doug Weatherly is standing outside again. We’re going to have to figure out how to schedule Chelsea’s appointments without Doug finding out. I’m worried about her.”
“He must be hacking into her phone or email, or something,” Geraldine said, shaking her head. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” Camille said. “And since Chelsea is a no-show, I think I’m going to head to the recording studio a little earlier today so Parker and I can prep for the show.”
“Before you go, a woman is in the waiting room. She sounds desperate,” Geraldine said, apologetically.
Camille almost told Geraldine to send the woman on her way, telling her that she wasn’t taking on any new clients. Which was entirely true. She was tired, her schedule was full, the podcast had taken on a life of its own.
“She said she’ll pay cash,” Geraldine added.
This tidbit caused Camille to pause.
Cash was good. It was a rarity, but not unheard of. Some of her clients wanted assurance of their privacy no matter the cost. It meant no official paperwork, no submission to health insurance. And no taxes, which meant more money for the things she wanted. All fine with Camille.
“Okay,” Camille said finally. “Send her in.”
A moment later the woman entered the room reluctantly and hesitantly looked around. She was small in stature with thick black hair beneath a slouchy black hat. She wore black leggings, Chuck Taylors, a white T-shirt, jean jacket, and she had a large yellow handbag hooked over her shoulder.
The woman’s face was hidden behind dark sunglasses. This wasn’t unusual either. Patients often wore sunglasses to conceal teary, red-rimmed eyes. They were a barrier that Camille tolerated for a few sessions. After the third appointment, she would ask the patient to remove the glasses so they could get down to the real work.
“I’m Dr. Tamerlane. Welcome,” she said, holding out a hand. The woman reciprocated with a grip that was soft, tentative. “Please come in and take a seat.”
The woman looked toward the door as if she wanted to bolt. Instead she sat, perching precariously on the edge of the seat, placing her bag on the floor next to her and tucking her hands between her knees.
Camille wheeled her desk chair over so that she was sitting directly in front of the woman. She left her notebook at her desk, having found it put new clients at ease to know she wasn’t writing down what they told her.
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name,” Camille said, mirroring the woman’s body language.
“It’s Nan,” the woman said in a soft voice, pushing the sunglasses up on the bridge of her nose. “Adams.”
“As in Nancy?” Camille asked.
“No, just Nan,” she answered, staring down at her Converse.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nan. Thank you for coming in today,” Camille said warmly. “I know it can be awkward meeting with a therapist for the first time. This first meeting will be a bit different than a regular session. I’ll ask you some questions that will help me understand what you may be experiencing and feeling. And you can feel free to ask me questions too.” Camille gave Nan a gentle smile. “I’ll share my initial thoughts and observations and then we’ll talk about a plan to help you feel better. What do you think?”
Nan let out a long, shuddery breath. “Sounds good.”
“Wonderful,” Camille said, pushing her glasses atop her head. “Let’s start by talking about why you wanted to see me today. My receptionist said you felt it was quite urgent.”
Nan twisted a hammered silver ring on her index finger but didn’t speak. Camille let the silence hang there, not wanting to rush the woman. She didn’t like not being able to see her face and look into her eyes, but she didn’t want to spook Nan by asking her to take the sunglasses off just yet.
“How about this,” Camille tried, “why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind right now? Right this instant.”
Nan chewed on her lower lip. “You can’t repeat what I say here, can you? It’s all private?”
“That’s right, I will not repeat what you tell me here,” Camille explained. “However, if you reveal that you are going to commit a crime or are going to continue to commit a crime involving, say, a child or an elderly person, I’m required to alert authorities. But if you tell me about a past crime, I’m bound by secrecy.”
Nan shifted uneasily in her seat. “I feel like I’m doing something wrong, that I’m being disloyal.”
“You feel like by coming here, you are breaking someone’s trust?” Camille asked. Nan nodded reluctantly. Camille leaned forward and lowered her elbows to her knees. “Many of my clients feel that way when they first come to see me, but come to realize that talking things through doesn’t mean they are being disloyal, but are simply trying to make sense of what they are feeling.”
Camille knew she needed to tread carefully. If she pushed Nan too hard, she would bolt. She was already looking toward the door. “You are feeling conflicted,” Camille said. “Maybe if you told me a bit more about who you are worried about disappointing, I can better help you.”
