And the license said you had to stick around until I was dead.
But if you're tired of looking at my face, I guess I already am.
But you've never been a waste of my time. It's never been a drag.
So take a deep breath and count back from ten. And maybe you'll be alright.
Liz Phair - Divorce Song
Sterile white walls contained sharp contemporary furniture made from wood the color of espresso and frosted glass. Every decorative vase or piece of art was angled and unwelcoming in varying shades of grays and blues. Ink blots and diplomas were framed, hung painstakingly straight in a row. There was a leather couch in the middle of the room that looked uncomfortable, most likely because it was. Just sitting on it would cause your back to pop into perfect posture no matter how hard to tried to flop against the crisp overstuffed pillows. Beside it sat a high back chair of similar design, just as inhospitable. Nothing about the room made you want to relax. Nothing about it made you want to sit for hours. Nothing urged you to bare your soul to a stranger.
But that's just what was expected of you in therapy.
The couple sat on the couch, one on either side yet still looking ready to crawl over the armrests just to put more thick air of unresolved issues between them. The wife wore a pantsuit of tan, a string of pearls draped along her collarbone. Her dirty blonde hair was fixed into a bun at the nape of her neck, a few loose curls framing the sun kissed skin of her face. Her eyes were a deep blue, but her gaze was so severe behind thick framed glasses it was almost impossible to find the beauty in them. Her husband on the other hand was dressed in jeans and a button up flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His thick hair was somewhat short, but still managed to be messy. It was a soft brown, just as his mustache, the color of weak tea. His mouth was working nonstop even though no sounds came out. A nervous tick it seemed, that caused him to stretch his lips, rewet them and gnaw at the edges.
An older woman sat in the high back chair beside them, somehow leaning back into the leather and almost looking at home. A clipboard propped on the knee of her crossed legs, a pen set to paper and ready to scribble down notes at any moment. She offered a guarded smile and spoke in a gentle tone that she had paid good money to learn.
"Why don't we pick up where we left off during our last session? Caroline, you said that you had been feeling trapped lately. Do you think we could expand on that? I know it might be hard to put those feelings into words, but remember that you can take as much time as you need." The Good Doctor offered that friendly mask once more. It was better for her when people had a hard time expressing themselves because it always meant they had to come back for another session, which meant another bill for them.
Caroline had her arms folded tightly across her chest. A shocking move since she would normally never do anything that could possibly wrinkle her clothing. Long legs were crossed at the knee, her high heel clad foot bouncing rapidly in irritation. It would make you think she didn't want to be here, but in fact it was her idea. The man that sat to her left was calm, watching her with a soft expression and looking ready to absorb any information that might help him mend the rift between them. This only caused her to glare at him in disgust before she sighed and looked to the doctor as she spoke.
"When Robert and I first got married everything was interesting and new. It was unpredictable! He made me feel alive. Now every day of my life is the same drawn out schedule. I go to work, which honestly is a relief to me because that changes on a daily basis, but then I come home to the same monotony."
The Good Doctor nodded as her hand moved quickly across her notepad not paying much attention to the poor husband staring at his wife with the look of a wounded puppy. He slowly shook his head turning sad green eyes onto the Doctor.
"I had no idea. I thought we were all happy until just recently. I tried to give her everything-"
The wife let out a bark of laughter that cut him off. She was beginning to look volatile. Almost as if she was hoping that if she pushed him hard enough he would finally push back. Unfortunately for her he had barely pushed back during his entire life, let alone their five years of marriage. She finally hissed out her reply, "I don't want you to give me everything. It's predictable to know that you'll give in to whatever I say and do." She snorted and narrowed her eyes. "You don't stand up to anyone over anything. You're spineless."
"How does that even make sense?" Robert's gaze shifted to his wife. "You're mad because I unconditionally provide you with everything you need?"
Caroline sputtered. It was unclear if she was upset that her own backwards logic was being tossed into her face or if she had finally reached the point in her breakdown where she couldn't form words. Finally she was able to screech out the reply. "I am tired, Robert, of this life! Of being trapped! I am tired of it and I am tired of you!"
Robert winced and sunk back into the couch now staring straight ahead. He began gnawing at the edge of his lips again. Caroline was finally still, her expression twisted into one of horror at her own cruelty. The silence infested the air making it hard for the couple to breath. Finally, it was the Good Doctor who spoke in a soft tone.
"It's not uncommon for people to feel trapped now and then throughout their marriages. It takes a lot of work and cooperation to make things feel exciting and new with every passing year." She spoke as if she were reading straight from a text book. "First, we must have you both come to an agreement that this is what you want. That you believe your family is worth fighting for." She looked between the pair. Caroline didn't move, but Robert was nodding his head slowly.
"I want to make this work, Caroline. We have to make it work." Robert looked to his wife with a pleading expression. It made her narrow her eyes and grit her teeth. She stared at him for a long while before sighing out her answer flatly. "I want to fight for our family." The way she said it made it sound like she had already given up, but before it could be pointed out the Good Doctor went on.
"Good, good!" She chirped as she continued switching between writing and shuffling through her papers. "Which brings me to the next question, have either of you discussed any of these issues with your daughter," she quickly flipped through her notes to find the name before turning her gaze on the pair. "Lindsey?"
But if you're tired of looking at my face, I guess I already am.
But you've never been a waste of my time. It's never been a drag.
So take a deep breath and count back from ten. And maybe you'll be alright.
Liz Phair - Divorce Song
Sterile white walls contained sharp contemporary furniture made from wood the color of espresso and frosted glass. Every decorative vase or piece of art was angled and unwelcoming in varying shades of grays and blues. Ink blots and diplomas were framed, hung painstakingly straight in a row. There was a leather couch in the middle of the room that looked uncomfortable, most likely because it was. Just sitting on it would cause your back to pop into perfect posture no matter how hard to tried to flop against the crisp overstuffed pillows. Beside it sat a high back chair of similar design, just as inhospitable. Nothing about the room made you want to relax. Nothing about it made you want to sit for hours. Nothing urged you to bare your soul to a stranger.
But that's just what was expected of you in therapy.
The couple sat on the couch, one on either side yet still looking ready to crawl over the armrests just to put more thick air of unresolved issues between them. The wife wore a pantsuit of tan, a string of pearls draped along her collarbone. Her dirty blonde hair was fixed into a bun at the nape of her neck, a few loose curls framing the sun kissed skin of her face. Her eyes were a deep blue, but her gaze was so severe behind thick framed glasses it was almost impossible to find the beauty in them. Her husband on the other hand was dressed in jeans and a button up flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His thick hair was somewhat short, but still managed to be messy. It was a soft brown, just as his mustache, the color of weak tea. His mouth was working nonstop even though no sounds came out. A nervous tick it seemed, that caused him to stretch his lips, rewet them and gnaw at the edges.
An older woman sat in the high back chair beside them, somehow leaning back into the leather and almost looking at home. A clipboard propped on the knee of her crossed legs, a pen set to paper and ready to scribble down notes at any moment. She offered a guarded smile and spoke in a gentle tone that she had paid good money to learn.
"Why don't we pick up where we left off during our last session? Caroline, you said that you had been feeling trapped lately. Do you think we could expand on that? I know it might be hard to put those feelings into words, but remember that you can take as much time as you need." The Good Doctor offered that friendly mask once more. It was better for her when people had a hard time expressing themselves because it always meant they had to come back for another session, which meant another bill for them.
Caroline had her arms folded tightly across her chest. A shocking move since she would normally never do anything that could possibly wrinkle her clothing. Long legs were crossed at the knee, her high heel clad foot bouncing rapidly in irritation. It would make you think she didn't want to be here, but in fact it was her idea. The man that sat to her left was calm, watching her with a soft expression and looking ready to absorb any information that might help him mend the rift between them. This only caused her to glare at him in disgust before she sighed and looked to the doctor as she spoke.
"When Robert and I first got married everything was interesting and new. It was unpredictable! He made me feel alive. Now every day of my life is the same drawn out schedule. I go to work, which honestly is a relief to me because that changes on a daily basis, but then I come home to the same monotony."
The Good Doctor nodded as her hand moved quickly across her notepad not paying much attention to the poor husband staring at his wife with the look of a wounded puppy. He slowly shook his head turning sad green eyes onto the Doctor.
"I had no idea. I thought we were all happy until just recently. I tried to give her everything-"
The wife let out a bark of laughter that cut him off. She was beginning to look volatile. Almost as if she was hoping that if she pushed him hard enough he would finally push back. Unfortunately for her he had barely pushed back during his entire life, let alone their five years of marriage. She finally hissed out her reply, "I don't want you to give me everything. It's predictable to know that you'll give in to whatever I say and do." She snorted and narrowed her eyes. "You don't stand up to anyone over anything. You're spineless."
"How does that even make sense?" Robert's gaze shifted to his wife. "You're mad because I unconditionally provide you with everything you need?"
Caroline sputtered. It was unclear if she was upset that her own backwards logic was being tossed into her face or if she had finally reached the point in her breakdown where she couldn't form words. Finally she was able to screech out the reply. "I am tired, Robert, of this life! Of being trapped! I am tired of it and I am tired of you!"
Robert winced and sunk back into the couch now staring straight ahead. He began gnawing at the edge of his lips again. Caroline was finally still, her expression twisted into one of horror at her own cruelty. The silence infested the air making it hard for the couple to breath. Finally, it was the Good Doctor who spoke in a soft tone.
"It's not uncommon for people to feel trapped now and then throughout their marriages. It takes a lot of work and cooperation to make things feel exciting and new with every passing year." She spoke as if she were reading straight from a text book. "First, we must have you both come to an agreement that this is what you want. That you believe your family is worth fighting for." She looked between the pair. Caroline didn't move, but Robert was nodding his head slowly.
"I want to make this work, Caroline. We have to make it work." Robert looked to his wife with a pleading expression. It made her narrow her eyes and grit her teeth. She stared at him for a long while before sighing out her answer flatly. "I want to fight for our family." The way she said it made it sound like she had already given up, but before it could be pointed out the Good Doctor went on.
"Good, good!" She chirped as she continued switching between writing and shuffling through her papers. "Which brings me to the next question, have either of you discussed any of these issues with your daughter," she quickly flipped through her notes to find the name before turning her gaze on the pair. "Lindsey?"