The Girl Who Said No (GirlxGirl)

3.0

Being a therapist can be a very difficult job. It tests you in ways you would never imagine. Nobody really feels comfortable sharing personal aspects of their life. We all want some things to remain secret. Especially the things we don't think others will understand. But somewhere deep within every single one of us, we have the desire to tell someone and lift the burden off our shoulders. But getting to that point can take a long time in patients. And when your patient thinks that they are only a source of entertainment for you? Well, that's just makes things ten times harder.

I'm not saying that helping Brooklyn is going to be too big of a challenge for me. Honestly, I've faced worse. I've dealt with pedophiles, murderers, and a whole array of other not so friendly people. Everyone had their own rough patch, it's just a matter of figuring out what it is. If I needed to refer her to someone else I would never hesitate to make that decision, but I can't help but hope she can find what she needs from me. A selfish thought, I know.

You can't always see the underlying issue right away. And you don't want to rush your patient unless you feel it's necessary for their treatment. I think it would be better to get to know Brooklyn on a more personal level and develop trust. One thing for sure is that there is much more to Brooklyn than she lets on. 

I shut my binder, content with what I have reviewed from Brooklyn's case when a knock sounds from the door. I gently remove my reading glasses from the bridge of my nose, rubbing my eyes tiredly, "Come in." I sigh, running my fingers through the knots in my hair. 

Slowly and hesitantly, the door begins to creak open. Standing behind it, is Michael. Gently closing the door behind him, his eyes scan over me, assessing the situation. "Rough night?" he asks, leaning forward on the couch with his hands clasped in front of him.

"Always." I smile, tiredly putting Brooklyn's file securely storing it in its place in my drawer. "So what brings you here?" I ask rubbing my hands together for warmth. It's the coldest room in the entire building.

Michael purses his lips, debating on whether or not he really wanted to voice his thoughts. Sliding his hands into his front pants pockets he inched towards my desk. "I-I don't know what to do." he finally reveals, frustratingly rubbing at the back of his neck.

"I don't follow." I say giving him a questioning look. At this Michael inhales shakily, looking away from me. Uh, oh that isn't a good sign. I stand up from my chair and maneuver around the desk to stand beside him.

"Michael." I say resting a gentle and comforting hand on his shoulder. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Please don't treat me like your patients." he says in a shameful tone, giving me a brief moment of eye contact.

"Believe it or not." I say, removing my hand from his shoulder. "I talk like that to everyone. It just means I care." Among the many struggles that come with being a psychiatrist was that my friends and family didn't always felt comfortable sharing things with me. They were always afraid I might try to analyze them. To be fair, it wasn't something I could always shut off. Once you're used to seeing people a certain way, it can be difficult to ignore it.

"I'm going to tell you something. And you need to promise not to say anything unless I say it's okay." he requests.

My face sinks at this. Whenever someone says they want you to keep what they are telling you a secret you know you are in for it.

"Of course." I nod, gulping nervously in anticipation.

Taking a seat on the couch, Michael loosens his magenta tie. "Adele slept with another man." he says. "She told me last night. She slept with another man more than 12 times."

"Damn it, Michael I'm so sorry-" I say apologetically. I mean what else am I supposed to say? Better yet, what am I allowed to say?

He nods, registering my apology as just another thing he had no interest in hearing. "If it was once then I would have been able to forgive her. If it was four times we'd work through it, I know we would have. But...more than twelves times." He muttered in disbelief. "I can't get it out of my head Tayla. All those nights she was with him. I can't help but wonder if it's my fault..." he eyes water, his lip trembles. 

"Can I say something?" I ask shifting uncomfortably. Listening and giving your friends advice is completely different than a session with a patient. You are biased. Emotional attachments are doorways to doubt. And it isn't a feeling that I enjoy. 

"Go ahead." he said, clearing his throat to try to bottle up his emotions. Which as it turns out only makes it that more prominent.

"Her actions do not reflect you." I reassure him. "What she did was horrible, but it was her decision. If it were once or twice I'd tell you to hear her out and try to fix your relationship because it might be her way of trying to reach you. But she made that choice twelve times. She was fully aware of what she was doing and how it was going to affect you. I don't know the circumstances and I don't want to, but don't blame yourself. She wronged you, not the other way around."

 "I see why your patients think so highly of you." he smiles halfheartedly. I might have said what he needed to hear, but he was far from being alright.

"If you need anything-" 

"Then, you'll always be here." he finishes, opening the door. "I know."

Smiling, I tilt my head to the side amused by his interpretation of me. "If you need anything I have a tub of rocky road in the freezer and chic-flicks that we can throw popcorn at." I correct him leaning against the door frame as we talked in the hallway.

"Oh." he mouthed, embarrassed. "In that case, I might just take you up on that offer."

"Good." I smile, but it melts into a frown. Out of the corner of my eyes I see a familiar set of blue eyes and brown hair. "Isn't that Brooke Robins?" I tug on Michael's sleeve, motioning at the girl sitting in one of the waiting chairs across the far-end of the room. 

"Well, yes it is." he says looking over his shoulder. "That's odd we don't have an appointment."

"Neither do we." I frown. 

"Should we approach her?" Michael asks uncertainly, scratching behind his head.

"I don't think she's here for us." I say more to myself, watching as Brooke rises and shakes hands with another one of our doctors, Dr. Kyle. Dr. Kyle specializes in dermatology. Following my gaze  Michael also notices this.

"Is there any reason that Brooke should be seeing a dermatologist?" I inquire, crossing my arms as I contemplate what I already know about Brooke. 

"Not that know of. Brooke didn't mention anything, it must be something new." he shrugs walking to the lobby desk to grab a clipboard.

"Woah, woah, woah." I say, tugging the clipboard from his hands. "Do you really think it's a good idea to jumped straight into work after everything?" I question him.

"I have sick patients Dr. Wilson. There is no reason that I should let my own personal problems get in the way of helping them."

"And that's very honorable." I assure him. "But I just don't think it's a good idea to exert yourself, when you haven't had time to recover-"

"Stop. And I say this...with the most respect I can muster at the moment, but I think I've heard enough of what you have to say today. I have a job and I have every intention of following through with it." he says harshly, prying the clipboard from my hands and storming off.

Well, that turned badly very quickly.