Rob sighed. He ran his hands through his dark hair. He didn't know what to do about his daughter, Bethany.
Ever since her Mom had passed, Bethany had been acting out. First cutting class. Then staying out late. Smoking, drinking, who knows what. Now she had just been expelled from that ungodly expensive private school. It was too much. She was too wild, too rebellious. Too spoiled.
Rob gazed at the picture he kept on his desk: Bethany as a little girl, all blonde pigtails and dimples. Now she was brash, model thin, with bleached hair and those slutty clothes she wore. He knew she had had a hard time these past few years, but for God's sake. She was 18 now and it was time to shape up.
The sleek office looked out over the twinkling cityscape. Rob was a successful property developer and had been able to give his family - that is, Bethany - every comfort and privilege. He had been too good to her. Now she was disobedient, self-centered, headstrong. A spoiled brat.
He buzzed his secretary. "Get Dr. Jacobs on the line."
"Your daughter's psychoanalyst?"
"Yes. I need to speak to him urgently."
Dr. Jacobs answered promptly. "Yes Rob, I knew you'd want to talk."
"Bethany's behavior is getting out of control," Rob sighed. "I just don't know what to do with her anymore. I'm wondering what can be done to help her get back on the right track. Do you have anything...ANYTHING... new to suggest?"
Dr. Jacobs was silent, musing. He wasn't sure if this referral was one that might come back to haunt him. "Well," he hesitated a moment. "There's a new integrative practices therapy..." he stopped.
Rob encouraged him. "Yes, go on?" Dr. Jacobs coughed.
"Currently only one therapist offers it, and she charges accordingly. It's very difficult to get on her caseload. If-- and I say IF-- she would agree to take on Bethany, I have no doubt that she could help her. But it would entail a total lifestyle change. You might not even recognize your daughter afterwards."
"I hardly recognize her now," Rob countered. "Can you get this therapist? How do we begin?"
They discussed the consultation with this Dr. Clara. It could happen next week, if all went well.
Rob felt relieved. He wasn't sure what Dr. Jacobs' hesitation had been, but he was ready to try anything to help his daughter.
Maybe all she needed was a good female therapist. A strong and positive woman role model. Someone to connect with, to fill the void her mother had left. He felt new hope for his daughter under Dr. Clara's guidance.
***
Bethany was aggressively thin. "Supermodel skinny" was the look she and all her wealthy party-girl friends favored. Her long blonde hair suggested hours at an expensive salon. Her blue eyes were heavily made up and cynical. Jaded. She was wearing a lime green designer minidress showing off her nonexistent tits and ass. An expensive handbag dangled from her shoulder as she stomped down the hall in her designer platform heels towards her first meeting with Dr. Clara.
Rob sat at the kitchen table sipping his coffee, watching her leave. She gave him a sarcastic, haughty little wave before slamming the door. With her skinny body, bleached hair and heavy make-up, he thought she looked like a reality TV star. A trashy party girl, desperate for the wrong kind of attention.
"Where did I go wrong?" Rob said aloud, resignedly. "We used to be so close." He turned toward his briefcase. Best to bury himself in work. He felt he had done all he could do for his out-of-control daughter. Now it was up to the therapist.
***
The driver dropped Bethany off at Dr. Clara's office. She entered the lobby and was surprised by the luminous pink walls. They reminded her of... bubblegum. Or strawberry taffy. Something sticky and pink and sweet. It was like the very color of sweetness itself.
She heard a woman's step in the corridor. She turned and saw a figure: a perfect hourglass, with shapely legs, stiletto heels. Long dark waves of hair were gathered over one shoulder. "Miss Carlisle?" a softly accented voice asked.
Bethany muttered under her breath. She didn't like this woman already. Of course Daddy would choose some South American tart.
The woman, Dr. Clara, led her to an office and sat her down in a large purple chair. "Thank you for coming in, Bethany. I'm going to assess you for my integrative practices therapy. Let's get to know each other a little today."
Bethany considered for a second, then her face hardened. "There's really nothing to know about me. This whole thing is just more of Rob's bullshit."
"I'm sorry?" said Dr. Clara. "Rob?" She checked her chart. "Your father, you mean?"
Bethany snorted. "Daddy. He wants me cleaned up and turned into some cookie-cutter sorority girl, another future Stepford wife. He's not interested in who I am or what I want to be."
Dr. Clara looked gently at her. "Who is it you want to be, my darling? Tell me a little bit about yourself."
A few moments passed. Bethany shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't ready to confide in this strange woman, and yet she couldn't help it somehow.
"I don't know. Daddy wants me to go to college, but I don't care about school at all." She licked her lips nervously. "I just want to feel loved, to feel important." Her face softened a little. "I'm always fighting with Daddy, but it's just because he never pays any real attention to me. All he cares about is business." Her face crinkled. She looked like she might start to cry.
Dr. Clara placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded sympathetically.
"Bethany, you're a little younger than the clients I typically work with. But I can see yours is a very significant case for me. I will take every step to help you fulfill your potential as a young woman, and particularly in your relationship with your father."