'Oh, hello jasper', says the therapist when I open the door to his office. The 'oh' was unnecessary, he has a schedule and knew I was coming.
'Take a seat', he says, nodding in the direction of the two armchairs, a gesture that looks like he's pointing at them with his nose, 'this session won't take long'. He keeps messing around with some papers at his desk when I cross the spacious office to get to the well-known two armchairs.
After a few minutes he finally sits down in the chair facing mine.
'Yesterday's session got me thinking about my plan for you. You know, Jasper, of course we have a goal: to make you feel better and get to the bottom of what exactly happened. It's like digging up a treasure. Or in this case maybe more like digging up a grave...' the therapist said that last part a bit under his breath, and looks like knows he shouldn't have said that. By quickly carrying on he tries to cover up what he just said.
'...Anyways, you see, when we first started with these sessions I had a path in mind, a path I wanted to walk down with you. It's not only the goal we have to keep in mind, but we also have to think about the journey, how we get there, right?' the therapist nods slowly and looks at me like he really wants me to understand what he's saying. I nod briefly.
Surprisingly I completely understand what he's talking about. The therapist's face relaxes a bit, relieved that I seem to be following his rambling with vague metaphors about digging up graves and walking down paths.
'Well then, Jasper, I thought maybe we should change the way we are walking down this path, okay?' He pauses again to make sure I'm still following him. I do follow him, although I wish he would just come to point and tell me what kind of 'path' we are going to take now. 'So, since I think we both agree that these sessions we're having are not getting us anywhere, I'm giving you this,' and he reaches to the small desk besides his chair and takes a leather bound notebook that is laying next to his own familiar notebook.
'It's the first time I do this, but I think it's worth a try. This is yours now', he says, handing the notebook to me.
I reach my hand and take the notebook but the therapist is still holding on to it, so we are in the kind of awkward position in which we both hold on to the same classic, handmade looking book.
'But before I give it to you, I'm going to make a deal with you', he's looking at me, frowning, but I can see a bit of excitement in his eyes.
'You no longer have to get to this office for a session every day. But, in return, you have to write your thoughts down in this book. Deal?' Without thinking I nod, taking the notebook. The therapist claps his hands once and rises from his chair. I get up too. We shake hands.
'Deal.' I say, quietly, with my eyes on the notebook in my hands.
