She began typing, not really knowing what she wanted to say. “Hi,” she wrote. “I’m not sure where to start. I don’t have much going on in my life right now, but my friends keep telling me that it might be worth talking to a professional about my life at the moment. I don’t have any big issues. I listen to all the right podcasts to help with my mental health. I think I’m pretty emotionally stable, but, of course, it’s hard to know when it’s you, and my friends haven’t reported back that I’m a nut job so far. Sorry, I shouldn’t use language like that, should I? I can be a bit direct at times, is that ok in a professional setting like this? Anyway, I do occasionally have sexual thoughts about this ex. The one that got away! But everyone has one of them, right? I think maybe I’m just a bit bored in life, but then everyone is, aren’t they? I don’t know. Could I be having a mid-life crisis of sorts? I suppose that’s probably what I need to work out… Anyway I’m just rambling now. Thanks for reading this. Kind regards. Hannah.”
After pressing the send button, she hesitated for a moment. “Oh god,” she thought, “that was a mistake! Why did I do that? What was I thinking?”
Later that day, Hannah was in her kitchen-diner, staring into space, not really focused on anything, her children were playing nearby when her phone pinged and an email notification appeared on her screen. She clicked on it without registering that it could be important.
“Hi Hannah, thanks for getting in contact,” it read. “I know it can be really tough to make the first steps of contacting a therapist. I’m really glad you reached out. I’d be happy to work with you. I have a free appointment next Monday at 3pm, would that suit? If not, just let me know and we can arrange a session at a different time. Hope to speak to you soon. Elliot”.
“Fuck!” Hannah exclaimed louder than she meant to.
The youngest of her two children turned to her and sternly said, “We don’t say ‘fuck’ Mummy!”
Hannah smiled. “Yes darling, you’re right. Mummy’s sorry.” She threw her phone down on the kitchen counter and tried to focus on making the children’s dinners, telling herself that if she wanted to, she didn’t have to reply.
“Hi Elliot, thanks for your email,” Hannah typed. “Monday at 3pm would work fine. I’ll see you then. Hannah”. She lay in bed. One of the children had crawled in with her. She could hear her husband typing away in his office. “I wonder if he watches porn when he stays up late working?”
Chapter 3.
Elliot’s office was stylishly decorated, very Scandi-chic décor and grey-tone walls. It didn’t feel like a therapist’s office, it was like walking into somebody’s lounge. He invited her to sit on a sofa that looked brand new. “Have you been in these offices long?” Hannah enquired.
“No, I’ve just moved in actually, do you like it?” Elliot replied.
“It’s very cosy, did you decorate it yourself?” Hannah realised straight away that she was flirting with him. Not excessively, but she knew full well that when she found someone attractive, she used a specific tone. It wasn’t purposeful, it was instinctive, and because of that she didn’t know how to override it. Plus, she’d never had to in the past.
She found herself studying his face as he answered her question and then proceeded to talk her through all the administrative stuff linked to therapy that she wasn’t hugely interested in. He had a very kind and welcoming manner, she felt at home in his company, already. She fixed his gaze and realised just how beautiful his eyes were. Hannah didn’t often notice people’s eyes, but his were a deep blue. He didn’t look away the whole time. Maybe it was something they had to learn to do—part of the job.
“… and so if I do perceive there to be any danger to you or someone close to you then I do have a legal obligation to inform the authorities,” he continued.
“What?” she blurted out, suddenly aware that she’d not been paying attention to anything he’d said for the past few minutes. “I’m sorry. Yes, of course, I understand the implications. Don’t worry, I don’t want to kill anyone. And my husband is the most docile man you could meet. There’s no risk there.” Hannah blushed. “Concentrate goddamnit!” she told herself.
Elliot smiled. “So then, if that’s all ok for you, shall we get started?” Hannah nodded. “What brought you here today Hannah?” He continued to look her straight in the eyes. His gaze felt oddly intense and Hannah realised she was getting flustered. She willed herself to focus, to keep her mind on the reason she was here, to think of the money she was wasting getting distracted by him.
“Well, as I said in my email, I’m not sure really,” she said, gathering herself. “I suppose I’m just a bit bored of life really.”
“Ok, and how long do you think you’ve been feeling this way?” Elliot asked.
Hannah cupped her chin in her hands and tried to reflect on her feelings. “Look, I think the choices I made in life that have brought me to where I am now, were probably the wrong ones. I think I chose stability over excitement in an attempt to be a good and proper adult. In an attempt to prove a point, that I could do it. But I feel like there’s a younger, more exciting version of me trying to get out constantly, and that generalised frustration is starting to spill over into my daily life now.”
“I see,” said Elliot.
Her hands shot up involuntarily to cover her mouth. She hadn’t expected to say anything like that. She suddenly felt awful.
Seeing this, Elliot said, “There is no need to feel bad, Hannah. If that’s how you feel, then keeping it in isn’t going to help you. I understand that there is often guilt around these types of admissions, especially as a parent, but please don’t beat yourself up. That’s not the purpose of these sessions. Just try to be honest with yourself.” Elliot had begun methodically rolling up his sleeves as he was saying this—folding the material over once, then again, and again. Hannah tried not to look at his forearms, which were slender but muscular. She felt hot. Was the room stuffy? Was it a bodily reaction to blurting out her true feelings in that way? Or was it his arms that were having that effect on her?
After the session Hannah walked home in a daze. “What happened back there?” she wondered. In less than an hour, she had managed to question the reason as to why she married her husband, admit to feeling frustrated in her current life, and unexpectedly fantasise over her therapist’s physique. She knew he was good-looking going into this, but she hadn’t expected him to be quite so alluring in person. And yet, despite her attraction to him, she felt like she could tell him anything. It all felt very confusing and exciting at the same time.
Her walk home wasn’t long and the weather was nice, there was a cool breeze and the sun was out. She enjoyed walking alone at her own pace for once. “I must pick up some bananas on the way home, we’re almost out, and if we don’t have any in the house, the children won’t eat any fruit this week,” she said to herself. Mum mode had now been fully reengaged.