Mental

“Thank you, Mr Oliver,” she smiled, her grey eyes tired, her smile worn out but striving to express herself formally.

“No, thank you Miss Mai,” her now ex-client, successful in therapy, smiled back and shook her hand. “Our last session really helped to clear things up, I thank you gratefully for your help over the last few months.”

“You know where my office is, if you need anything else, if you relapse-”

“Yeah-” he half laughed, as they stood at the door of Miss Mai’s office.

“As long as you book an appointment,”

“Thank you,”

“Goodluck, have a good evening,” the therapist closed the door behind her finalised client, finally sitting back down at her desk. Left over paperwork that she needed to finish and send off to government Officials, as well as the Police (or the Bizzies, such as the therapist herself), sat in a pile she dared not touch.

But as it got darker she convinced herself that, since it was her day off tomorrow, it was not worth leaving it late until Monday.

She sat at her desk, groaning a relief as she slouched back comfortably. Mia looked around her office, it was mostly red. That was her colour. Red nails, makeup, clothing, all to match her dark ginger, almost red, wavy hair. She had it cut mid-neck length, and it frizzed out much like an afro, however this gene derived from a distant cousin - Mia was white.

She sat at her desk, now beginning to go through the paperwork when the door to her office was knocked. As she looked up, her assistant, Maurine Dallas, opened the door without waiting. She wore all white, breaking the security of the room with its simple and strict colour scheme.

“Yes, Dallas…?” Mia sighed a tired sigh, looking back down at her paperwork and finishing signing off her signature before clicking the pen closed.

“There’s one of your patients here to see you,”

“You realise the time?”

“I- well-” Maurine turned and pushed the door wider, revealing the patient looking tearful and miserable.

“Jodie,” Mia gave a smile, getting up immediately and greeting her at the door. “Thank you, Dallas. Come in, Jodie.”

Mia put her arm around Jodie’s shoulders, as the patient just managed to hobble over to the sofa in her office. It was red leather, a lighter shade of red compared to the walls and bigger furniture.

Jodie sat down hard, almost falling. Clutching at her ankle, she sobbed and wiped away her tears hurriedly.

“You can cry,” The therapist confirmed, bringing a box of tissues over and placing it on the coffee table between her own seat and Jodie. “It’s a common human response.”

There was a pause, Mia let Jodie cry into the tissues she pulled out of the box, blow her nose quietly, before continuing.

“I’ll let you begin,” Miss Mai gave a nod, sitting ready with her notepad and pen to take notes.

“Where from..”

“Well we can recap everything so far?” Mia asked, studying Jodie’s expression as her face scrunched up. “Or you can tell me why you’re appearing so late at my office?”

“Uhm,” the patient sniffed and looked around the room.

Mia began to write in her notebook ~attempted self-distraction in procrastination to self express~, and adding ~noteable acknowledgement of my studying notes~ as Jodie eyed the pen in Mia’s hand herself.

“I tripped on the way here, rolled my ankle,” she motioned to her ankle, rubbing it lightly and wincing. “I feel calmer than what I did. First thought was to come here, like a flight or fight response or something.”

“Where were you before coming here?”

“Hospital,” Jodie replied, swallowing her dry throat and looking down at her therapist’s shoes, they were also red - a reddish brown. “Ironic...”

“Why?”

“Because I hurt myself leaving a place that is supposed to help me?”

“Okay,” Mia nodded, noting down Jodie’s attitude. “What makes you feel calmer from being here compared to where you were before?”

Another pause, it seemed to stretch out for the patient. She became flustered, getting hot and unrestful. “Because Mum isn’t here.” She chose her answer carefully, beginning to bite her lip.

“Did something else happen?” the therapist questioned further.

“Yeah,”

It’s always just been me and my Mum, for as long as I could remember. That made it difficult, since she was never really around. From an early age until 12 years old she relied on my friends’ Dad, Gary Grey, to look after me evenings and nights. The last 6 years I’d been at home by myself, Gary’s daughters would come over a lot to keep me company while their Dad worked night shifts 3 times a week. He’s always kept that schedule, working as a police officer in the city.

I had to look after the house, almost baby my own mother, cook and clean for her while juggling my studies. We were in the second to last term of Sixth Form, having finished our exams and now preparing for prom. Mum didn’t pay any attention to this, on the one day she had off.. for herself, not even to check up on her only child. I wanted her to come with me to find a dress, but now I don’t even know if I’ll bother going to prom.

I sometimes felt invisible, sitting back in every situation and looking at it from all angles.. Do I intervene? Should I just leave? Does it matter?

The only thing my Mum had done to involve herself in my life and my growth was pay for my therapy. She was the main topic of discussion during my sessions. At first I never spoke a word, instead the therapist introduced herself and explained how it all worked. I was given sheets and sheets of questionnaires to fill out every morning and night to report back to her. I used to throw them away after every session, but one day Miss Mai said something to me.

‘People in therapy are in therapy to deal with the people in their lives who won’t go to therapy.’

This said to me, since I wasn’t there by choice, that Mum needed help, but instead she’d convinced herself that I was the one who was emotionally broken. I was the one who needed help. Utter bullshit.

Recently we’d actually started to talk when she got home from work. It was only ever a few minutes, she’d go to bed immediately, getting home as I was getting ready for school, or just as I was going to bed. I’d been doing those little questionnaires for about a year, starting to get better and better. Because I knew that I would be able to leave home soon. Luna and Fanny both knew I was excited to leave, they were excited for me too. I loved the girls, my biggest supporters. Francis and Martha knew also, though they weren’t the type of friends I could go to with my issues, rather they were a good distraction; a good laugh.

Just this morning I’d had a relapse, I had them over and had asked them to leave before it got bad. But then Mum came home, and it was Saturday so I had nowhere to be. Complaints were made, of being tired and stressed, that I wasn’t helping by being emotional and wanting attention all the time. I stayed at Gary’s house all day with the girls, though Fanny was a year below us, and only now having her yearly exams, so she was studying for most of the day.

What surprised me, and led to the final downfall of the relationship I had with my Mum, was that she wanted me to meet her at the hospital. She called Gary because I wasn’t answering my phone, to say she was finishing her shift early and wanted to go for food with me.

I hesitated at first, Gary told me he was happy for me to stay the night if I wasn’t willing to see Mum. He told me, as a police officer and as a friend, that he was always there for me. I made the decision to go, only to be deceived and let down, of course, when she was waiting at the front desk with an angry look on her face. I knew immediately it wasn’t going to happen, instead she had a go at me for being late, claiming I was now making her finish her shift normal time instead. I get dizzy, thinking about how it all played out. I grip the leather on the seat below me, closing my eyes and trying to continue.

“I just.. I blew up,” Jodie sighed out, a relief, being able to admit how she reacted. “Maybe it was wrong of me, I don’t know..” She began to sob, clutching a fist full of hair in her hand before raking out all of the knots. “I just had enough, and I screamed, telling her I was leaving. She’d never see me again. I left.”

“So, do you think that this is the final breaking point?” Mia asked, feeling that the session was slowly coming to an end. She had ended up staying an hour overtime. “Do you think that you meant what you’d said?”

The only reply was a sigh, the question hung heavy in the air. Jodie’s indecision gave the therapist all she needed, as she wrote down ~gaining back control of her life~.

“What would you like to do? After this session ends?”

“I don’t wanna see anyone..”

“What do you wanna do?”

“Can I stay with you? I know that breaks therapist-patient boundaries..” Jodie finally opened her eyes, looking up at her therapist with a guilty conscience, her back hunched in attempts to hide away.

~Closed body language, for the first time requesting the help she feels she needs. - which she does need~.

“Well you’re an adult now,” Mia replied, closing her notebook with a confident stance. “You can ask for any support you need. I am comfortable with you staying at my place of residence for as long as you need. I have a spare bedroom.”

“Thank you,”

Jodie remained quiet, as she sat and waited for Mia to finish packing away her books and paperwork. As she was getting her coat Jodie then tried to stand; though her ankle stung with great pain. It took both Mia and Maurine to help Jodie to the elevator, the three left together after locking up the building and splitting ways to their means of getting home. Mia travelled by car, a saving grace for Jodie and her ankle. Both remained silent, at a red light into the main of the city of Liverpool Mia asked if her patient and companion wanted any food. Neither of them had an appetite, despite it having been a long day.

Jodie was left astounded, upon pulling up into her therapist’s street. Fancy brick buildings with wrap around porches, great driveways big enough to park 3 cars side by side.

The two were greeted by Mia’s cat; Meredith, as she told Jodie. Meredith slept with Jodie, to Mia’s disbelief.

“She never takes so quickly to strangers,” she gave a loving laugh, smoothing underneath her cat’s chin before going back downstairs to get a bag of frozen peas for her patient’s injury.

Jodie sat in silence, looking around the room while the cat purred in her lap. Two purple posters were the only thing to add colour other than an ashy-grey blue - both covering the carpet and the walls. One had a silhouette of a man playing the saxophone, and the other a silhouette of a man playing the cello. Jodie liked jazz; she imagined the posters coming to life; playing her a private mini concert, where the singer sang a song about escaping and freedom. Something she deeply desired.

In no time Mia came back, with a spare change of clothing for her patient, a cooled tea towel and two cool packs for Jodie’s ankle.

“You don’t need to keep the packs on all night, they’ll help with the swelling though,” Mia granted a smile, uplifting Jodie’s spirit. The most care from a mother-like figure she had gotten in a long while, not even from her own Mum, but her therapist.

“Thanks,” Jodie replied meekly, unsure of how to respond as Mia laid the clothing next to her on the bed.

“The bathroom is the door to the right when you leave the room,” Mia spoke for the last time before leaving the room. “Try to get some rest.”

“Yeah,” the patient nodded and smiled weakly, watching her therapist disappear from behind the closed door. Now she was alone and unsure of what to do.

It was almost midnight, it was pitch black outside besides the street lamps - every other household was sound asleep. Tired and drained from their day jobs, having worked hard non-stop to get where they are now.

Jodie sometimes, well, a lot of the time, wondered why they lived in such a small flat when she knew her Mum had thousands and thousands of money saved. She wondered if she was too hard on her at times, since she worked most of the time. What if the money was being saved for her daughter?

No. Jodie convinced herself strongly; no excuse to neglect your child.

Though the space she lived in was small, it was cosy, and she got to know one of the other tenants. A boy, Soul, whose Dad owned the apartment complex, however didn’t live there and allowed his son to occupy one of the flats. Jodie thought he was kind, whenever she thought of him she always thought back to their first interaction. Waiting at the elevator. “What floor you on?” He’d asked her.

“3rd, you?” She replied, and asked him.

“Oh, I’m on the first floor,” he laughed with nervousness, and walked her down the hallway to her front door. “Have a good night.” He left butterflies in her stomach, a giddy feeling in her head.

Oh, and that one time her Mum left for a night shift at 4pm, and she didn’t want to be alone. She took the elevator down to the first floor, and she stayed with her new friend for a few hours until past midnight.

Jodie took the time to appreciate the one good thing she had from living in that confinement, and took the time now (as she was trying to undress and change) to reminisce that night. It wasn’t even that long ago, around the time she’d decided to start using the questionnaires from Mia was when they first met.

She turned out the light, turning off the lamp by the bed and trying to turn over to face the wall. With her ankle propped and surrounded by the cold, Jodie fell asleep in constant shivers despite being warm enough under the covers.

Mia however seemed endlessly restless, tossing and turning. Despite Jodie being 18, now an adult to society, mentally an adult however since forever, the therapist felt as if Jodie in current was like her own daughter. Figuratively. Where Jodie told her everything about her life, from love interests, deepest darkest thoughts, relationships with family and friends. She felt the need, now, to keep her safe, since she was residing at her home.

Mia sympathised with her patient, Mia herself doesn’t have any contact with her patient’s mother - of which Emma was the one who paid and hired the therapist. It was a legal requirement to give feedback from both sides of the party; Mia to Emma, and Emma to Mia; in response to Jodie’s cooperation in sessions and the impact on home life. However this never happened once in the years that Emma was paying for the sessions, and where Jodie was attending them. Instead Mia kept a whole notebook for Jodie alone, stamping dates and signatures, copying down Jodie’s words; word for word, most days.

She wondered how long she would have Jodie stay, she didn’t mind how long just as long as her patient was safe. No matter how old Jodie would get, in the eyes of her therapist she would always still be a little girl. Despite being half Mia’s age.

In the end Mia didn’t get much sleep, waking up early hours before sunrise. There were phone calls she needed to make to Jodie’s mother, and the Govs about the situation. Legally, Mia was expected to call social services on Emma. It should’ve been done sooner, in response to all the things that Jodie had told her. Instead she planned to wait for Jodie to wake up, to ask her.