Therapy

by Gerald Schoenewolf

Book Opening:

“Are you Dr. Hargrove?”  A shy, breathy voice rustled inside my telephone receiver.

“Yes, I am,” I answered in my most professional manner.

“My name is Jeanie Wells.  I was referred to you by the clinic.  I was told you could work with an artist.”

“Yes.  Are you an artist?”

“I’m a dancer.  Does that qualify me as an artist?”

“Sure.”

“I didn’t know if I had to be a visual artist to qualify.”

“Not at all.”

“I’ve been feeling…suicidal.  I think I need to talk to somebody.  I’m sort of seeing somebody now, a psychiatrist, but he’s not really helping me.  I think I need something…different…active.  Do you think you’ll be able to help me?”

“I don’t know.  I haven’t met you yet.”

“That’s true.  May I ask you a question?  Would you say you’re an active therapist?”

“What do you mean by ‘active’?”

“Well, do you talk?”

“Yes, I talk.”

“The psychiatrist I’m seeing now doesn’t talk.”

“He doesn’t talk at all?”

“He just sits behind his desk and looks bored.  And then he writes me another prescription.”

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