A Cowboy for the CEO

Chapter 12: F*ckin' Perfect

Ali's second therapy session with Dr. Sacher was scheduled for Friday morning. Exactly one week had passed since her arrival at the lodge, but so far her streak of failures continued. While she didn't wish to repeat Monday's incident in the corral, Ali also didn't feel like spending the next hour being psychoanalyzed. After knocking on the therapist's office door and hearing the invitation to enter, she momentarily forgot her worries.

She had expected a typical office: a wooden desk, lots of bookshelves, comfy chairs, and maybe even a couch. Instead, Ali found herself in something straight out of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. The walls were all white, as were the stems of the four crystal-trimmed chandeliers hanging from various points on the ceiling. Black and white tiles in a checkerboard pattern decorated the floor, but that was where the subtlety in design ended.

An orange, L-shaped sofa stood in one corner, flanked by two striped high-back chairs. Several floral-patterned, oversized pillows in coordinating reds and yellows were strewn on the floor, while a half dozen circular clocks had been placed at various heights on three walls. Each showed a different time, and Ali automatically checked her wristwatch. That was different as well.

She smiled. It seemed Dr. Jane Sacher was not the stodgy professional that first impressions made her out to be. And now Pete's Alice analogy the first time they met actually make sense!

"Good morning, Ms. Barros," said the therapist as she greeted her from next to a small but exquisitely set table. The round top was covered with a silver tablecloth and topped by a tiered display of mini cupcakes and iced cookies. Dr. Sacher was holding a blue and white porcelain pot. "Tea?"

Ali had learned to always accept such an offer, even if she didn't really want it. The gesture not only put the host at ease but also made the guest appear more amenable. "Yes, please."

Dr. Sacher poured two servings before handing a cup and matching saucer to Ali. "Have a seat anywhere you find comfortable."

Ali sat in one of the armchairs and the therapist took a seat in the other.

"We seemed to have gotten off on the wrong foot last time," Dr. Sacher said as she peered over the rim of her cup before taking a small sip of the steaming beverage.

Ali cradled the saucer in her palm. "I'm not very good at introspection, I'm afraid."

The therapist smiled. "Then let me ask you a quick question and we'll move on." She paused before turning more serious. "Tell me. Do you consider yourself a perfectionist?"

She hated that word and Ali cringed. "I was always taught to do my best, but no, I wouldn't call myself a perfectionist," she said.

Dr. Sacher pursed her lips and looked her up and down. "Very good. Now, how about we back up and talk about your environment."

"My environment?" The china rattled in her hand as Ali shifted in her seat.

"That's right. Your influences and triggers. The things around you. More specifically, your interpersonal relationships," Dr. Sacher explained.

Ali hooked her index and middle fingers into the cup's handle and lifted the object to her lips. She took two sips of the bitter tea before answering. "All right."

"Let's talk about your parents first," Dr. Sacher said, setting her cup down on a side table. "Were they equally part of your childhood and are they both still alive?"

"Yes on both counts." In spite of preferring her tea with honey and lemon, Ali drank again.

"And how would you describe your relationship with them?"

Ali sighed. Did she really have to suffer through fifty-five more minutes of this Psychiatry 101 nonsense? Leaning forward, she attempted to put her tea down but fumbled and nearly dropped the whole thing on the checkered floor. "Average, I suppose," she answered once the porcelain was safely on the table. "My mother has always had extremely high expectations of me, but she means well. My father, on the other hand, uses a much more subtle method of silent guilt to make his point."