“Uh… yesterday afternoon.” I let my handbag slide off my arm, and then set it down by my feet. “I drove down yesterday, a little after lunch.”
“That’s wonderful. Did you take a look around?”
“Around town?” I try to settle in and relax. I sit back a little more, swallow down my nerves, and try not to overthink the ramifications of what this means. To be sitting in this room, with this woman, to be pursuing this particular career. It’s all very pivotal and life-altering.
“I didn’t venture out,” I explain. “I checked in at my hotel, ordered room service, watched a movie, and crashed. I was tired and,” my cheeks warm, “well, honestly, I was nervous about today. I conked out as quickly as I could, but I got up early, and walked here this morning just so I could explore town a little. They make a killer coffee at the bakery on Main.”
“Yes.” She smiles and brings her teacup to her lips. “I’m not sure they make a bad anything there. Be sure to try the cream puffs. They’re to die for.” She glances across the room to a clock on the wall, stares for just a moment, then nods. “We have ten minutes until my first client is due.”
Small talk is done, I guess. Now it’s time for business.
“It’s important I ask each and every client for their permission for you to sit in on their sessions. And even if they say yes today, they are not obligated to say yes next time. You’re welcome to take notes, so long as you’re not loud about it, if you know what I mean. No names at all, and your notebooks are to remain in this office at all times. I can provide you with a space in the locked cabinet, so they remain safe. You can access them at any time while here. If, at some point during this semester, you’re required to write something up about your experiences, you can refer to your notes, but again, you cannot take them away.” She gives a gentle smile. “Client confidentiality is of paramount importance here.”
“Of course.”
“Feel free to try to engage with my clients, so long as the moment feels genuine and welcome, but it’s important you do not interrupt them when they speak. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, you can leave. Zero judgment from me. Some of my clients will wish to speak about things that seem unimportant to you and me. Maybe their job is giving them a hard time, or their spouse. Something that seems minimal to some. But your job, as therapist, is not to judge. Conversely, some might discuss things that will hurt your heart and soul. They will speak of things that will make you question if there’s any good left in this world. I will never judge or berate you for excusing yourself.”
I study this woman’s shrewd eyes – the color, nothing like my green. The way she clasps her hands together. She’s a contradiction: old and kind-looking, but business-minded… and, if I read her right, willing to protect her clients with her own life.
“If I want to become a therapist,” I begin, “if at the end of this semester, I want to achieve something good and important, then I can’t wimp out on the heavier stuff, right?”
She smiles, fusses with her teacup for a moment, only to finally nod. “Perhaps. But I will not judge you, Allyson. I will never hold it against you. This career takes a special skillset, an understanding and an ability to be compassionate, but without absorbing or letting the job hurt you. Not everyone has that, and that is okay. I would rather we both know now, while you’re young and have guidance, than for you to figure it out later, when someone else’s mental health is in your hands, and you have the power to make it worse, even if unintentionally.”
“You, uh… Do you never absorb?” I know I should focus on what she’s trying to explain, on my responsibility in this important profession, but my mind sticks to one particular point. “Never? In all these years, you’ve never grabbed on to someone else’s troubles and struggled to offload it again?”
“Well…” She considers and takes a sip of her tea. “I’ve absorbed far more than is healthy for any one human. This may be a small town, Allyson, and troubles may look simple from the outside, but I’ve spent the last sixty years helping a lot of the youth around here. Some of them…” She pauses and shakes her head. “Some of them have met the devil. They’ve seen firsthand that Hell exists. But,” she adds with a small uplift in her tone, “they come back to me, time and time again. And they search for guidance.”
The telephone on Sonia’s desk chirps just once, then Calla’s voice echoes from the next room over. “Your nine-thirty is here.”
“Thank you, Calla. Send them in.” She sets her teacup aside and looks to me. “You ready?”
“Them?” I hurriedly glance toward the door. “You do couples counseling too?”
“Ha.” She makes her way across the room in her fancy suit and kitten heels. “I do, sometimes. But that’s not what today is.”
She opens the door and turns into someone else completely. From serious, unbending therapist, to baby talk and folding in half to pat an extraordinarily large dog. “Hey, Galileo. How are you doing today, handsome? Are you keeping your mommy out of trouble? Huh? Are you keeping her on the straight and narrow?”
“Lord,” the woman standing at the door rolls her eyes. “Anyone would think I’m a criminal.” She wears jeans with holes in the knees, sneakers, and a top that clings to her hips to show off her curves. She smiles for Sonia, rolls her eyes at her dog, but then she notices me, and straightens out like an arrow.
A defensive arrow readying to eject me the hell out of here.
“Um…”
Sonia notices the change in demeanor immediately, straightens, and gestures toward me… but her hand remains on Galileo’s head. “Nora, come on in, and I’ll explain.”
“Are you being audited?”
Nora’s large dog leaves Sonia’s side and comes to sniff me. He’s massive. As in, if he rested on his back legs and stood tall, he’d be an easy foot or two taller than me. White fur, a couple of black patches, and two sparkling black eyes. He’s her guard dog, her army, but he doesn’t growl at me, he doesn’t attack as I nervously stand and clasp my hands together.
“Nora.” Sonia closes the door and comes to stand between me and her client. “This is Allyson Moore. She’s a psychology student in her final year at college. She’s almost ready to graduate, but as always, students need practical hours in a live setting. It becomes part of their final grade.”
“And…” The woman’s eyes study mine. She’s a little aggressive, and perhaps, if I’m not mistaken, a little possessive of her therapist. “These are those hours? I’m your guinea pig?”
“Well,” Sonia smothers a quiet chuckle. “Only if you agree. I will ask each of my clients, each time they walk in, if they give permission for Allyson to observe. If you’re not comfortable, that’s completely fine. She will leave, and you and I can continue on as normal. If you agree, then as always, anything you say remains confidential. Allyson is here to learn, Nora. Not to replace me, and not to make you uncomfortable. The ball is always in your court.”
“Am I her first client?” She looks to me and raises a brow. “Am I your first?”