The inside of her office resembled the lobby with its tranquil vibe. It was a small room, minimally decorated with a few choice, posh pieces, like the two white, wingback chairs pointed slightly toward each other and separated by a small, glass end table. One of the chairs held a stack of papers, a notebook, and a pen, so Jacob took the other seat.
“Can I get you something? Coffee, tea, water?” the doctor asked, gesturing to the bar cart beside her that held a coffee maker, teapot, and a tray of mugs.
“Coffee would be great, actually,” Jacob graciously accepted, having been too nervous about his first counseling session to visit the campus cafeteria that morning.
“Perfect,” she replied, presenting him with a wooden tray of various shapes, sizes, and colors of mugs. “Pick your poison,” she instructed.
He hesitated, briefly wondering if this was some kind of psychological experiment.
“Don’t worry, it’s not a test,” she reassured, reading his mind. “I just like mugs,” she shrugged easily.
He chuckled and plucked out a simple white cup from the center of the array.
“Hm, interesting,” she noted, narrowing her eyes at his choice. When he met her gaze, however, she gave him a grin and a friendly wink to indicate her teasing.
Jacob smiled and sat back in his seat, feeling more at ease.
“So, Jacob, I’m Doctor Breanna Summers – sugar?” she interrupted herself, turning around from the drink station to receive his answer.
“Oh,” he stuttered, taking a minute to process the sudden question. “Uh, black is fine, thanks.”
“Perfect,” she smiled, bringing him his drink and setting her own cup of green tea on the table between them. “So, you can call me Doctor Summers, Breanna, Bree, whatever you feel comfortable with,” she offered, flipping to a blank page in her notebook as she settled into her seat.
“Alright,” Jacob replied, taking a careful sip of his hot coffee.
“So, Doctor…,” she trailed off as she flipped through the papers in her lap, scanning the page quickly with her eyes, “Yang sent me some information about your situation and the treatment you received at Bellevue.”
Jacob nodded, swallowing his nerves.
“You know, I have to admit, I usually don’t even read this stuff,” she muttered in a low voice, like it was a secret, shrugging it off dismissively. “I prefer to make my own first impressions of a client, get to know you at your own pace,” she explained. “But, given the nature of your situation, being on parole, I thought it might be beneficial to get a bit of a head start.”
“Sounds good,” Jacob said, unsure of how he was supposed to respond.
Doctor Summers glanced up at him, assessing his poorly hidden anxiety. She gave him a warm smile, closing the file of papers on her lap and setting them aside. “Why don’t we start with this week,” she suggested. “I hear you’ve just started at a new school. How is that going so far?”
“Pretty good,” Jacob nodded, thinking back over the previous day. “I mean, I’m still getting settled in, but my first couple classes were good, and I’ve already met a couple people.”
“How do you like your roommate?” the doctor asked. “I know that relationship can kind of make or break the whole college experience.”
“Well, actually, I got kinda lucky there,” Jacob replied after taking another sip of his coffee. “Apparently, there was an open single room, so they put me in there. No roommate.”
“Oh, well that’s nice,” Doctor Summers noted with a smile.
“Yeah, I guess,” he shrugged.
“Were you looking forward to having a roommate?” she inquired, picking up on his dissatisfaction.
“Well, no, not exactly,” he began, fiddling with the thin handle of his coffee mug. “But I guess I’m not exactly looking forward to being alone, either.”
“Mmm,” she nodded. “Well, you’re not completely alone, you know,” she set down her tea and flipped open her notebook again. “You have me, of course, and I assume you’ve been assigned a parole officer here in town for regular check-ins?”
“Yeah, that’s true. I’m meeting him after this,” he said.
“Great! You’ll have to tell me how that goes next week,” she replied, jotting down a quick note in her book. “And you said you’ve met a few people at school already?” she asked, turning her attention back to him.
Jacob told her about the girls he met in his first class, and his brief conversation with Callie as they walked together. He and the doctor made seemingly insignificant conversation about the rest of his journey from Bellevue to Westbridge, like the college courses he took while he was incarcerated, the difficulty in transferring those units to his new university, the financial aid situation, and his need for a job. Doctor Summers assured him that she would be with him every step of the way through his first year of college, including job searching if he wanted. He had heard that job assistance was something his parole officer would help with, though, so he preferred to use his time with her to discuss other things.
He had been worried the first meeting with a new therapist would be awkward, but Doctor Summers had a serene presence that made him comfortable with her right away. The hour passed quickly, albeit without discussing anything particularly deep or meaningful, but in some ways, Jacob was grateful for the easy, surface-level conversation. He wasn’t sure how this new relationship would begin, and he had previously been concerned that she would want to delve too deep too quickly for his comfort. After that morning, however, his mind was put at ease with the pace and flow of their conversation.
“Alright, so there a few logistics we need to go over before you head out of here,” the doctor announced, punctuating the last note she was taking in her miniature, white legal pad.
“Okay,” Jacob agreed, sitting back in his seat while she perused his file.
She flipped through her papers, scanning over the list of medications Jacob had been taking thus far. “How long have you been on estazolam?” she asked.
“Since I started at Bellevue,” he answered. “So, about eight years, I guess.”
“Really? Hm,” she pursed her lips, jotting something down on her notepad. “And when was the last time you experienced those night terrors?”
“Um…,” he paused, thinking it over. “Honestly, I can’t remember,” he replied, surprising himself with that revelation.
“Weeks, months, years…?” she shrugged, prodding for an estimation.
“Years, for sure,” Jacob answered.
“Great,” she nodded with a smile, recording that in her notes. “You know, Jacob,” she began, closing her file and folding her arms on top of it, giving him her full attention, “I prefer to focus on the counseling side of therapy, rather than the medical side,” she explained. “Not that there’s anything wrong with medication, of course, and it looks like most of the things your doctor has you on are pretty necessary for daily functioning,” she nodded, gesturing to the file. “But honestly, I’m not so sure I agree with keeping you on sedatives for this long.”
Jacob’s heart raced a bit faster as a mild panic sank in, anticipating her next words.