.AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is obviously a fictional, fantasy story, and no connection should be made to anything happening in real life. All characters are 18 or older.
MONDAY
Jackie Hendricks took a small look around her office, to make sure everything was in order, then glanced in the mirror and adjusted her glasses. She ran a finger along the edge of her short-cut dark hair. Then she sat down beside her desk and pressed a button on the intercom, "You can send in the next patient, now, Gladys."
Sharon Jones walked into the room and sat down on one of the padded chairs in front of the desk. Jackie looked her up and down. Sharon was a woman just into her 40s, wearing a dark business suit. As she settled down and brushed the lapels of her jacket to the side, deep cleavage was visible above the curved neckline of her blouse. Curly brown hair with some red highlights fell past her shoulders, and stylish thick-rimmed tortoiseshell glasses were perched on her nose. She crossed her pant-covered legs, put her clenched-together hands on one knee, and spoke up.
"This isn't something I usually do, you know, go to see a therapist."
Jackie smiled in a friendly way and tapped her pen against her lip. She had just been making some notes, but obviously her patient wanted to begin at once. "That's nothing to be nervous about. If you came here, I'm sure you have a reason."
"It's not me," Sharon continued. "It's my son. Nathan. I'm here for him." Jackie nodded for her to continue. "He's a teenager in high school. I think he's depressed. Anyway," she sighed deeply, "In the last few years he's been so full of problems, and I don't know what to do! I heard you were the best, that's your reputation."
Jackie kept her face straight as she heard that. It was an error that happened a few times a month, someone had heard about Jackson Hendrix, the prestigious psychologist, and found her office's phone number instead. Jackson Hendrix had an elegant office (so she'd heard) in a downtown high-rise. Jackie had this small office on the second floor above a suburban mini-mall. She hoped that the absence of the sound of clumsy fingers poking at piano keys in the past few days meant the 'music school' in the next unit had gone out of business for good. It leant things a much more professional air.
"Please tell me more about your son," Jackie said. "It's wonderful to see how much you care about him. Sometimes we find it hard to ask for outside help, but it's nothing to be ashamed of." This was mostly part of Jackie's sales pitch, she knew professional mothers like Sharon often had little time or energy for actually raising their children. "Would you like some tea?"
Sharon nodded and Jackie leaned into the intercom, "Two teas please, Gladys. Make mine the usual way, and..Ms. Jones, how about an Earl Grey?...yes, Gladys, an Earl Grey for Ms. Jones, you'll find it in the Black Canister." She emphasized the last two words. It was a secret code between them. The actual ingredients wouldn't be anything radical, just something to help Sharon Jones relax and lower the barriers that she might put up around certain subjects.
"She'll be in with the teas in a jiffy," Jackie smiled, "Now, you were telling me about...I'm sorry, I didn't write his name down here...."
"Nate. Well, Nathan, but he hates when I call him that." Sharon talked more about her son. In his way he sounded a lot like the usual teenager, touches of rebellion, cynicism, contempt for authority. As Sharon told it, he was an intelligent, even gifted, boy, but these past few years, "He's become someone I barely recognize." He'd dropped most of his hobbies and social activities, and his old friends had been replaced by new scruffy ones she didn't even know the names of.
Gladys interrupted, carrying the teacups in on a tray. Gladys was a thin, tall young Japanese woman, her hair held back in a ponytail. Jackie had an arrangement with her, she paid her a cut rate below minimum wage, and Gladys received forged certificates of community service which would help her eventually work off her criminal sentence. Most clients assumed her silence and surliness was just the usual attitude of an unpaid underling. Jackie sipped her hot tea, liberally cut with alcohol, and watched Gladys's ass in a tight grey herringbone skirt wiggle out the doorway. When the door closed she nodded at Sharon, "Please, continue. Can you think of anything that might have triggered this change in Nathan's behaviour?"
Sharon sighed and leaned back further. She took a sip of tea. "MMm, that's good. Anyway, well, yes. I suppose it's partly the fault of me and my husband. Our last few years of marriage...haven't been good. It's been a bit of a warzone. We don't even sleep in the same room anymore." Jackie took some notes as she heard the familiar story. Two high-powered, professional parents. Sharon was a highly-placed manager in a prestigious technology firm. Her husband worked sales, long hours and lots of travel. A few minutes later the 'special' tea had started kicking in, loosening her tongue, as Sharon stated, to cap off the discussion, "The last time we fucked was, like, three years ago, and we were both drunk after a party. Fuckin' hell."
Jackie asked her more about her home life. Nathan had two sisters, one a year younger than him, the other older and starting her first year of college.
"And do they also have, um, behavioral issues?" Jackie asked.
Sharon was drinking her tea, she smiled over the top of the cup, "Let's just fix one kid at a time, alright?"
Jackie nodded, "Sounds good. Can I see Nathan on Wednesday, then? We'll make an after-school appointment." Sharon nodded in agreement, and tipped up the cup to finish her tea, slurping at the last drops. It had something she couldn't pin down which delighted her mouth, she wanted every drop of it. "But I want to do something for you too." Jackie took her key and unlocked a drawer of her desk, sliding it open. Her fingernails clicked over various containers until she pulled out a medium-sized bottle of pink pills. There was a blank label on it, and she scribbled on it as she talked. "Stress levels can have an impact on home life as well. I'd like you to take one of these daily, in the morning."
Jackie placed the bottle on the edge of the desk and saw how Sharon looked at it skeptically.
"It's all-natural," Jackie added. "Organic."
Sharon's eyes lit up and she picked up the bottle and looked at it. "One a day, alright."
Jackie stood up and extended her hand, "I'm sure we're going to have a very fruitful relationship. I'll need to see you again, Ms. Jones, let's say next week, so we can get a good handle on how things are progressing?"
Sharon stood up, put her purse over her shoulder, and pressed her warm, soft hand into Jackie's, still buzzed from the special tea. "Please, call me Sharon."
WEDNESDAY
Jackie looked over her shoulder into the mirror, as she reached back and smoothed the material of her pinstriped skirt, bending over slightly so her ass would stretch out and make the material hug her rump. She'd worn her short jacket and this tight skirt specifically for this. A 33-year old woman, she was proud of her curves, and her sleek legs, and thought they would both come in useful for her next client.
She straightened back up, and walked to her desk, stopped by the framed diplomas on the wall and brushed the dust off the top of one frame with a fingertip. It was a good thing the clients never read the actual words, and just felt reassured by the look of them. Most of them were bought at garage sales, old diplomas of the deceased, which Jackie then had a computer artist kid she knew 'fix up'. They all displayed her name now, and a more recent date. Well, the current name she lived under. Hopefully that unpleasantness at the bio-chemistry graduate institute was in the past.
The intercom buzzed, and Gladys's voice came over the speaker, "Your four o'clock appointment is finally here. Do you still have time to see him, or do you want to re-schedule?"
Jackie settled herself behind her desk and her calm voice said, "Send the young man in, please."
Nathan Jones walked into the office, slouched, with a knapsack over one shoulder. He threw it down beside a chair and sat down, his baggy clothes rumpled: ratty sneakers, baggy blue jeans, a t-shirt with an unbuttoned and untucked plaid shirt pulled over top. A baseball cap kept some of his scraggly dark-blonde hair in place and away from his eyes that looked around in a pose of disinterest. Gladys leaned into the room to pull the door shut.
"Next time," Jackie smiled at Nathan, "Let's try to be a little more on time, shall we? Or we can make your appointment later in the day."
Nathan shrugged, "Yeah sorry, there was some school...stuff to do." Jackie began to smell the faint whiff of cigarette smoke from his body, along with whatever trendy overpowering deodorant was advertising heavily these days.
Jackie leaned forward, elbows on her desk, trying to appear open and trusting, "Look, I know it's not your favourite thing to be coming here. But you've had some trouble with school, haven't you? Been to the office a few times for skipping class and things?"
He shrugged his shoulders again, "Um, yeah..."
"Well," Jackie said, inclining her head, "Look, if it's not this, they might send you somewhere else not as nice and pleasant as us just having a talk here. And MAKE you go. I don't think this is so bad, is it?" She paused and let the question hang in the air for a few seconds. Nathan wasn't volunteering any conversation to break the silence. "I think it's not that bad, we can have some little talks and maybe get somewhere. Alright? Would you be more comfortable reclining?"
Her arm indicated a prototypical leather therapist's couch. It comforted a surprising amount of people to find the same tools of therapy they'd seen on television and in cartoons. Besides, the plush leather had found many other uses for Jackie. She reminded herself that she and Gladys hadn't used it together in almost a week.
Nathan shook his head, "No, I'm okay here, er...Mrs. Hendricks. Ms. Hendricks?"
She smiled at him, "You can call me Jackie if you want. Or Dr. Hendricks. Yes, Dr. Hendricks." She emphasized that last phrasing again, thinking she'd like to hear it from his lips. "Anyhow, if you're not going to use it, why don't I get more comfortable?"
She stood up from her desk, and felt Nathan's eyes watching as she walked on her high heels to the couch, bent over it as if brushing away a few specks of dust, giving him a view of her ass, then turned and lay down. She settled herself on her side, facing him, smiling, head propped up on an arm, her bare legs resting on each other. She saw his eyes shooting glances at her legs.
"Now," she smiled at him, "Let's shoot the shit a bit, huh? You don't mind if I talk a bit informally, do you?"
"No. That's cool."
"That's cool. Exactly my point. So, let's get a good view of the situation first. You know you're here because your mother -- lovely woman, by the way -- your mother thinks you're in a bit of trouble. So does your school, apparently. What do you think?"
Nathan was looking down at the floor. "I don't know. I'm just kind of bored with school, I guess. It doesn't seem relevant."
"Uh-huh," Jackie nodded, trying to project concern. "And what would you like to do after you finish school? Are you going to study anything at university?"
Nathan brightened up a little, "I'd love to be a in a rock band."
Jackie held back from rolling her eyes, but mouthed a little "Ugh," under her breath. She quickly recovered and pointed to the small fridge under the window, "Your voice sounds a little dry, why don't you grab yourself a cola? I've got some there under the window."
"Nah, Dr. Hendricks, it's okay."
"I insist," she said, then giggled "Don't worry, I'm not charging you for it."
Nathan stood up and walked to the fridge, leaning over to open it and look inside. All the cans were identical, and he picked one out and squinted at the label as he walked back to his seat.
