of water from the cooler in the corner and sat back on the chair facing Jessica. It was purposely an inch lower than the sofa, giving her patients the sense of control many didn’t feel in the outside world.
‘Okay. I notice that the reason for your visit is tension headaches. Would you like to tell me about them?’
Jessica’s eyes locked on to Karen’s, something she wasn’t used to, at least in initial sessions. She’d kept her office sparsely decorated so that people didn’t have anything to focus on or be distracted by – the sofa, her desk and two small bookcases; the one photograph, no trinkets and a large painting of a jetty over a mass of relaxing turquoise water – yet they still found somewhere to look other than at her. Not Jessica Hamilton, though.
‘You can’t fix me.’
There was a vicious challenging tone to her voice that was so at odds with her demeanour that it hit Karen harder than the words she’d used. But she had been shocked in her job thousands of times and she’d got hellish good at concealing her reactions; her face remained an impassive mask without a flinch.
‘Is that what you think is going to happen here, Jessica? That I’m going to try and fix you?’
‘Isn’t that what you do, Dr Browning? Fix the poor little mental cases, make their lives as perfect as yours?’
She didn’t break eye contact. Her eyes were blue, but too dark to be striking, with flecks of brown that dulled the effect further. Unremarkable – like the rest of her appeared to be.
‘No, Jessica, that’s not what we do. I’m just here to listen to what you have to say and try and help you come to terms with what’s going on.’
‘Listen and help, doesn’t sound very proactive to me. Why is it that people pay you so much money just to act as a brick wall? What’s so special about you?’
It wasn’t unusual for patients to be angry or confrontational, Karen told herself, trying not to let the anger that resonated from this girl rattle her on a personal level. Sometimes people were furious at life itself when they walked into their session; sometimes the vitriol was directed at their psychiatrist. Jessica Hamilton was no different to anyone else. And yet that was how she felt: different.
‘It’s often easier to share our problems with someone who has no personal investment in our lives; it makes people feel less judged and gives them a safe place to air their issues. I’m not here to judge you, Jessica, nor am I here to try and improve you. We don’t see people as being broken and it’s not our job to fix them. If you’re happy to talk to me, I’d like to try and understand what’s going on in your life. Is there somewhere you’d be comfortable starting?’
She saw Jessica processing her words and almost felt her disappointment that Karen wasn’t going to rise to her attack. She couldn’t help but wonder what the girl thought therapy was going to achieve, or why she’d come in the first place if she felt so strongly about the profession.
‘I’m having sex with a married man.’
If her first words were meant to challenge, now she meant to shock. Karen was already writing up her notes in her mind. Patient is looking to shock as a way of eliciting judgement. Possibly looking to diminish feelings of guilt. She’d have to look a lot further than she had so far; Karen had heard far worse admissions inside these walls.
‘Is that all it is, just sex? Other people might have chosen the words “sleeping with” or “having an affair”.’
Jessica’s face was blank, unreadable. ‘I’m not in love with him. There’s no point. I’m not some stupid girl who thinks he’s going to leave his wife to be with me.’
Patient is using denial as a defence mechanism against admitting her feelings. Signs of a different problem?
‘Would you like to start at the beginning and talk about how the two of you met?’
It was a difficult profession, being a psychiatrist, but Karen had never considered a different one, and in all the years she’d been practising she had never regretted her choice. It had come naturally to her to treat the client like a wounded bird: no sudden movements, keep a neutral voice, listen, lead but don’t dictate. With some people it felt like one wrong word and they would try to escape, seeing you as a captor