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She too had been a psych major, but as her story went, she dropped out and…yada, yada…
I offered to pay her to go back and finish her degree.
She didn’t want to.
She lived carefree.
The balance I needed as I spent my days speaking to people who entrusted their words with me to help them.
I exited my office and went behind the front desk.
Bethany followed.
“Don’t trust my work? I’m the manager. I know what I’m doing.”
I turned. “Manager? Since when? Did you get a promotion I didn’t hear about?”
“Oh, please. I’m the manager here, Anna. You and I both know it.”
“A promotion given to you by you.”
“Without a pay raise. Now that’s a bad deal.”
“Is this you asking me for a pay raise?”
“Is this you offering me a pay raise?” Bethany smirked.
“Twist and turn,” I whispered.
“It’s what we do best,” she said. “Twist and turn words to find some truth.”
I glared at Bethany. “It goes without saying that you cannot talk to patients. Other than casual small talk. Right?”
“Anna.”
“Okay. Just checking.”
I clicked the mouse to the main computer.
As the screen lit up, I felt Bethany grab my right shoulder.
I looked at her.
“Hate to do this,” Bethany said.
“Do what?” I asked.
“We need to crouch down right now… I think there’s big trouble at our door.”
Panic struck me hard.
One of my greatest fears ever was having a patient - current or former - showing up to my office and demanding treatment, or seeking some kind of revenge against me for some reason.
Maybe I had watched too many thriller movies.
As I crouched down next to Bethany, I thought about how to get her to safety.
Before I could speak, she nodded to me. “I’ll check.”
