The Therapist

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The Therapist Page 7

by Kelly Holm


  Leo was never there in the mornings when she got up and came down for breakfast either, although, she did see him sneaking out the back door a few times over the years. She wondered why her mother and Leo never married. To Mila, it seemed inevitable that they would, but it never happened.

  As Mila glanced at the clock, she realized she had lost track of time. It was well after midnight, and she had an early appointment with Lucy Manacourt, one of her least favorite patients, scheduled for the following morning; now only a few hours away. She put the diary in her dresser drawer and got ready for bed.

  The following morning, as Mila was looking through her

  closet trying to decide what to wear, she did her best to stay focused and not think about what she read the night before. It was difficult, but she had to be on her game today. She decided on a soft pink, knee length, pencil skirt, with a simple white blouse, and of course her favorite pair of Manolo Blahnik pointed-toe heels. She loved wearing heels, something she and her mother never saw eye to eye on.

  She glanced over at the clock, 7:25 a.m.; she was running late, and that was never good when Lucy Manacourt was coming in. She quickly finished her makeup and pulled her hair up into a messy bun, grabbed her shoes and purse, and ran to the door. As she was getting ready to walk out, Smokey started to walk around

  her feet and rub up against her legs, obviously looking for something from her, probably breakfast.

  “Oh, my poor baby, you’re hungry, aren’t you,” Mila said, as she picked up Smokey and gave him a hug.

  She never had to take care of a pet growing up, and she quickly realized that she would have to make some changes; like starting her day a little earlier, to accommodate Smokey.

  Mila quickly fed Smokey the remaining can of tuna, gave him one more hug, got into her car, and left for her office. On the way, she stopped for an iced coffee and blueberry muffin at her favorite little shop, The Brew House.

  Her first appointment that day was with Lucy Manacourt. Lucy was the seventeen-year-old daughter of the famous director Richard Manacourt and his wife, the distinguished actress, Lily Riverdale. She had been coming to see Mila for about two months now, trying to get rid of her anger issues; it was court ordered due to the severity.

  Lucy was your typical Hollywood kid who was big into rebelling. She wore her hair in long deadlocks, with several brightly colored strands, and her language was usually foul. Lucy

  always dressed like she was going to a Goth nightclub, in a mid-length black dress and tall black boots. She painted her eyes with dark smoky colors and to top it off, she wore a small silver chain that went from her upper lip to the ring in her nose.

  When Mila pulled up to her office, she saw Lucy’s car in the spot right in front of her office door. She knew that Lucy would be impatiently waiting inside; not something she liked walking into. Mila knew that when Lucy showed up early, she was usually much more aggressive and challenging in the session. What a great way to start my day, she sarcastically thought as she parked her car, took a deep breath, and went inside.

  She walked into her office, quickly tossed her purse in a drawer, and immediately went to let Lucy in.

  “About damn time you show up!” Lucy yelled when Mila opened the door to the waiting area.

  “Nice to see you too, Lucy. I see you are upset, let’s go inside my office and talk it out.”

  Mila knew that it was going to be a challenge to get Lucy to calm down, she hadn’t quite figured out why she was always so quick to anger.

  “My time is important, and I don’t like waiting around,” Lucy screamed, trying to get a rise out of Mila.

  Mila looked at her with a calm face and thought, you’re seventeen, and your only responsibility is going to school you spoiled brat; but instead, said in a very calming voice…

  “The clock on the wall says 7:50 a.m. your appointment is scheduled for 8:00 a.m. I’m not late, you’re early, and that’s great, but you need to control your emotions and practice patience like we discussed last week.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Mila was careful not to let Lucy see that she was shocked by her response, as it was usually what Lucy was going for.

  “Lucy, I’ve told you before, you cannot use that type of language here. I understand you are frustrated, but again, you must control your emotions. Let’s go inside my office, it will be more comfortable for us to talk.”

  Lucy followed Mila into her office like a child who was about to be punished, and let out a loud sigh when she plopped down in the chair; just to show Mila she was still upset. As Lucy waited for Mila to start the session, she picked at her nail polish and blew bubbles with her gum.

  “I got a call from your parole officer; he said you got into another fight. Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “Not really,” she nonchalantly replied, as she continued to pick at the few chunks of black nail polish still left on her thumbnail.

  “Well, since you are here on a court order, I think we should talk about it.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Ok, I can see where this is going, Mila thought as she glanced at the clock, only forty-two minutes left to go; I hope this isn’t a glimpse into the rest of my day.

  “Lucy, you aren’t going to be able to get rid of me that easily. Now, let’s talk this out, and maybe then, you’ll feel better.”

  “Whatever.” Lucy didn’t want to talk, she enjoyed hurting people. It made her feel important since her parents didn’t seem to have any time for her these days.

  “So, what started the fight?”

  “Stupid bitch just wouldn’t do the speed limit, she had to drive slowly. If the speed limit says forty-five then go forty-fucking-five not forty,” Lucy yelled as she clenched her fists and her face went red.

  “Try and calm down, and tell me what happened next.”

  “I followed her into the drug store parking lot, and when she got out of her car, I ran over and just started whaling on her,”

  Lucy replied with a grin.

  Mila could picture this poor woman innocently getting out of her car when suddenly, out of nowhere, she’s attacked by this Goth looking kid.

  “How did you feel after beating her?”

  “I felt great; she, of course, was a total mess. There was blood flying everywhere, just like a bloody horror movie. I blackened both her eyes, broke her nose, and split her lip before the cops showed up. She never saw me coming. I was like a superhero, but dark.”

  “Is the lady going to be ok?”

  “I don’t know, and I really don’t care; she was stupid and needs to learn to drive the speed limit. The cops said I hurt her pretty bad, but she pissed me off. What was I supposed to do, just let it happen?”

  “Well, yes. Do you still feel good about it now?”

  “Actually, I kind of feel bad. I could have used my time better.”

  “What do you mean when you say you could have used your time better?”

  Mila wondered, just for a moment, if Lucy might be having a breakthrough. Maybe she wasn’t as cold and heartless as Mila thought, perhaps she did feel remorse and sad after she hurts people.

  “If I wouldn’t have been so busy watching to see when the cops were coming, I could have gotten a few more punches in. I was just getting to the point where I felt pure rage, and that’s when I fight the best. But don’t get me wrong, it was awesome, and I’d do it again in a minute.”

  By this time, Lucy was fully standing and acting out some of the punches; telling the story was like an adrenalin rush for her. Mila was disappointed, she had hoped that Lucy was going to say to her that she felt terrible for hurting that innocent woman, but Lucy was anything but sorry.

  “Have you been practicing the exercises I showed you, and going to the group like we talked about?”

  “Sometimes… but I don’t like the group. They’re just a bunch of losers who sit in a circle, and tell each other how sorry they are for hurting the people they hurt; over and over, the same stories ev
ery week; I can’t take it anymore, I’m going to lose it and kill one of them.” Lucy was becoming agitated again.

  “I can find a different group for you if you like.”

  You psycho spoiled brat, Mila thought.

  They talked until the clock struck 8:45 a.m. when Mila told Lucy the session was over. By this time, Lucy was calm and quietly left.

  Once Lucy was gone, Mila let out a sigh of relief. Lucy was one of her most challenging patients; because she never knew what kind of mood she would be in, or how to approach the session. Mila thought it was possible that Lucy might be suffering from bipolar disorder, but she was beginning to think it looked more like intermittent explosive disorder.

  Mila also wondered if maybe, just maybe, Lucy was doing all of this just to get attention from her parents. It was a long shot, but Mila had seen this before. It was prevalent with young Hollywood kids, because their parents were usually traveling or working long hours, and can’t give them the attention they so desperately want; which could definitely be the case with Lucy.

  Unfortunately for Mila, she will have to endure a few more sessions with Lucy before she can make a clear-cut diagnosis. She made the necessary notes in Lucy’s file, placed it in the billing pile, and then pulled out her next patient’s file.

  Mila’s next appointment that day was with a new patient, Larisa Bergman. She didn’t have much information to go on

  except for what Larisa told her on the phone; that she was having problems sleeping and was suffering from severe anxiety attacks.

  Promptly at 9:00 a.m., the buzzer went off, and Mila knew that someone was in the waiting room. She quickly composed herself and went to greet her newest patient.

  When she opened the door, she was surprised to see a very well put together woman sitting in the waiting room. The woman was dressed in a pale beige pencil skirt, with a cream blouse, and a brown belt tying the look together. She had a pretty, girl next door, face, and her hair was shoulder length and a beautiful shade of auburn that she wore pulled back in a low pony with several small strands hanging perfectly around her face. She looked very confident.

  “Hello, I’m Dr. Thorton, you must be Larisa Bergman. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please come in.”

  Larisa set the fashion magazine she was paging through down on the coffee table and followed Mila into the office.

  “Wow, I love what you’ve done with your office,” Larisa said, as she walked into Mila’s office.

  “Thank you. Would you like some coffee or tea to drink while we talk?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

  Mila could tell that Larisa was nervous and did her best to make her feel comfortable.

  “You said on the phone that you were having problems sleeping, and were getting some severe anxiety attacks. Do you have any idea what might be causing the anxiety?”

  “No.”

  “No idea at all? Nothing happened that upset or scared you?” Mila was fishing, her patients always told her they had no idea where the anxiety was coming from; Mila rarely believed them.

  “I have a rather stressful job, so maybe that has something to do with it.” Larisa was treading lightly; she didn’t want to dive too deep into the why because she will never tell anyone the real reason.

  “Ok, that’s really common. What do you do for a living?”

  Oh, let me guess, a model or a real estate agent, gotta be one of the two, drum roll, please… Mila thought.

  “I’m a real estate broker.”

  Oohh, a broker, well at least I was close, beauty and a brain, Mila thought.

  “I can see how that could be stressful. What do you typically do when you feel an attack coming on?” Mila asked.

  “Well if I’m driving, I always pull over; otherwise, I just go somewhere I can be alone and ride it out. I had some medication that was working great, but the prescription ran out.”

  “I can renew that for you before you leave. Have you tried any yoga, meditation, or breathing exercises to try and relieve the stress naturally?”

  “Nothing seems to work except, like I said before, the medication.”

  Mila thought, of course, the meds work; the key is fixing it to get off the meds…why do they always just want the meds?

  “Do the attacks have a pattern? Like, do they always come in the morning, or when you talk to a specific person or think about a specific topic?”

  Larisa knew they did, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell the therapist that they always came when she thought about how she might have killed her baby.

  “No pattern.”

  “Ok, what do you think might be causing the problem?” Mila always likes to ask even though she rarely got an answer.

  “Look, I’m not someone who talks about my feelings; is

  there any way I can just get the prescription and be on my way?”

  Mila smiled and gave a polite little laugh, “It would be nice if it worked that way, wouldn’t it. Unfortunately, we have to do some talking before I can prescribe any medication.”

  Why doesn’t anyone ever want to talk things out? Mila thought.

  “Maybe you could just ask the questions, and I’ll try and answer them.”

  “Sure. First, I’d like to give you some information on yoga, meditation and such that you could practice on your own. I’ve found with several of my patients that it really helps along with medication, and of course, the dreaded talking.”

  “I’ve tried meditating, but I can’t concentrate on nothing, my mind just keeps wandering, and that ends up stressing me out much more.”

  “There are other practices besides meditation that might be beneficial to you. One thing I like to use is yoga breathing. It’s effortless, and you can do it as soon as you feel an attack coming on, or any time you feel stressed. It might not stop the attack, but it will make it less severe. What you do is slowly breathe in for four counts, and then breathe out four counts.”

  “And that actually works?”

  “It actually works. Let’s try it together, breathe in slowly for four counts, good, and now exhale slowly for four counts. Again, in for four counts and exhale four counts. Good, how do you feel?”

  “I feel a little calmer.”

  “Good, if you practice it, you’ll get even better results.”

  They talked a while longer, and before Larisa knew it, the session was over. Before she left, as promised, Mila wrote her a prescription for one month of anxiety pills.

  “Thanks for renewing this,” Larisa said as Mila handed her the prescription sheet.

  “It’s for one month. I do think weekly sessions would help. Would you be willing to schedule another one?”

  “Sure, are you available same time next week?”

  Mila opened her laptop and checked her schedule…

  “Yes, I will mark you down.” Mila walked Larisa to the door, and Larisa left.

  Once Mila finished with her last patient, she spent a couple of hours completing paperwork before she left to go home. As she was getting into her car, she thought about Larisa Bergman. She could tell she was hiding something, but she wasn’t sure just how to bring it out of her. Most of her patients crack after a couple of appointments and spill, sometimes more than they should. Mila hoped that Larisa would too.

  Chapter 6

  Leo carefully secured the urn to the back of his bike, said his good-byes to Charlie and Sally, and started the second portion of his journey. The cabin on Lake Hoople wasn’t more than an hour ride from the Drake Motel. It was a beautiful day for a ride, with the sun shining brightly, and a gentle refreshing breeze.

  He wondered how Mila was doing, he was a little worried about her being so far away and all alone; he hoped she would be ok. He was very touched when he received a text from her saying she made it back to L.A. with Smokey safely.

  As he rode, his mind drifted to Krystal; he missed her so much. He thought about the first time he and Krystal went to the cabin; it was vivid in his memory like it jus
t happened yesterday, not years ago. He let his mind drift back to that day…

  They were sitting in Krystal’s kitchen, just finishing up some grilled cheese sandwiches when Krystal got a phone call.

  “I just got off the phone with Aunt Millie, you remember my eccentric hippie aunt that lives in L.A.?” Krystal asked.

  “Is she the one that moved there to take care of her daughter while she was going through cancer treatments?”

  “Yep, that’s her. After her daughter died, Millie decided to stay and not come back to Rockville.”

  “Didn’t she live in L.A. before she was married or something too? I remember you telling me some crazy stories about her and some rock star from the sixties.”

  “Ya, she lived in L.A., well, Venice Beach to be exact, during the sixties. She was very into the rock scene, I think she might have been a groupie, but I’m not completely sure.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s doing really well; she asked if Mila could spend the

  summer with her, said she really misses her. I can’t believe Millie’s been in L.A. five years now.”

  “Maybe you and Mila should drive down and see her. Mila will be out of school for summer break soon.”

  “It’s like you read my mind, but I have a bit of a twist to add.”

  “You got my attention, babe…what’s the twist?”

  “I thought that I could drive Mila down, and you could follow on your bike. We could spend a few days in L.A. with Aunt Millie, and then you and I could take off on a vacation of our own.”

  “I like the way you think. What did you have in mind?”

  “I found the cutest cabin in Hoople, this small resort town up by Santa Barbara, and the cabin is right on Lake Hoople too. It’s small, and there isn’t access to the internet or television, but it does have indoor plumbing and electricity. There’s a dock too. What do you think?”

  “It’s a long ride from L.A., are you sure you can do it?”

  “I’ve already mapped it out; we’ll do half and stop for the night in Ventura. I’ve already booked a room at the Drake Motel; we can stay overnight and then do the remainder of the trip the next day.”

 

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