After Jill had shown Amelia out, she stood with her back against the door for long minutes, as though rooted to the spot. What she had wanted to say to her new client was, “Look in the mirror. Look at that splendid, igniting smile when it comes through, and soak up all its energy. Look into your beautiful, brown eyes and let their soulfulness fill you with—” She had to stop herself. She shouldn’t even have been thinking those thoughts while in session. What was she? Newly graduated and not in control of her impulses? But decades of experience didn’t inoculate you against the mind-altering effect a gorgeous woman could have on you. That much was clear. And that voice. Jill wanted to bathe in it—drown in it. At the very least, she’d like to lie next to Amelia—preferably naked—and hide in the deep, soothing comfort of it while she told her a story, any story.
What Jill really should do was go to her colleague, Patrick, and confess to him what kind of a foolish woman she was being, harboring thoughts unworthy of her profession. Patrick would understand. He might be able to take on Amelia as his own client, although Jill wasn’t sure that was advisable. In any case, there was only one person’s interest she should focus on: Amelia’s.
But Amelia had just told her that she was glad she’d found Jill. And it wasn’t as if, were she to drop Amelia as a client, it would magically become ethical for Jill to date her. First of all, Amelia was in no state to date anyone. She was putting herself and her life back together after a severe case of burnout. Jill knew better than anyone that recovery from burnout was a delicate process not to be tinkered with. There was no winning play here.
Instead of waiting for Patrick to finish his session, she took a deep breath, and tried to banish the thought of Amelia from her mind. Good luck with that. Thank goodness she was seeing her own therapist tomorrow. Vic would set her straight.
Victoria Longe was years past the government’s official retirement date. “The day I retire,” she always claimed, “is the day they put me in a coffin.” Old age hadn’t made Vic any less feisty. But she’d always been compassionate and understanding, offering Jill a different perspective when she needed it. She sorely needed it today.
The more she tried not to think of Amelia, the more she did. That was psychology 101, of course. It didn’t help that Jill knew this better than anyone. What she had told herself, however, to the point that she was more than ready to believe it, was that her experience with Amelia had been a pretty straightforward case of what the French called coup de foudre. She’d been struck by the lightning of lust. In life, it was a simple case of acknowledging that these things happened. The trouble only occurred when you started to attach meaning or, heaven forbid, importance to such an event. While a strike of lightning could not be undone, it could be managed. Jill could not be un-struck, but she could use her intellect to deal with this. Her dignity. Her will to truly help Amelia. And she had Vic.
“What makes this woman so special?” Vic asked after Jill had explained the situation. “Apart from her being so—and I quote—‘devastatingly gorgeous’?”
“I don’t know—yet. Isn’t that usually the case with lust at first sight?”
Vic gave her an admonishing look. And sure, Jill should know better. But in this room, opposite Vic, she didn’t want to be a psychiatrist. She was just a woman who needed some help.
“Okay. Fine.” Under Vic’s withering stare, Jill always acquiesced quickly. “She’s vulnerable right now, yet it’s as though I can see right past it and I can see her inner strength. The strength she thinks she has lost; I can almost smell it. It’s just waiting, biding its time. I so desperately want to help her find it again.”
“I’m not going to mince my words here,” Vic said. “You’re projecting. It’s a classic case of countertransference.”
“No.” Did Vic really think Jill hadn’t thought of that herself? “It’s not that. Maybe it’s just purely physical. Maybe she’s just really my type, you know.”
“Wasn’t Rasmus a blue-eyed, blond-haired Swede?” Vic asked.
“Rasmus is also a man. My taste in women is very different.”
“I’ve known you for a very long time, Jill, and that’s the first I’ve ever heard you talk of having a particular taste in people. Or that you might even have a type.”
“Maybe it’s not her, then. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s my subconscious telling me it’s about time I put myself out there again.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Vic swept her long, gray braid off her shoulders. “I’m glad you can still be honest, even when under the influence of carnal desires.”
“I met a bunch of women over the weekend. A very interesting lot.” Jill told Vic about her evening at Liz and Jess’s house and ended with Hera’s request to become friends rather than client and therapist.
“I’m old-school,” Vic said. “I don’t think that’s appropriate.”
“You’ve never built a friendship with a former client?”
“Of course not. Clients are not friends. You know this, Jill. We have a code.”
“But life doesn’t always go in a way that allows us to stick to all the codes.”
“Even though it’s exactly in those times that a code can be a much-needed moral compass.”
Sometimes, a session with Vic resembled a conversation with her conscience. “Now that our practice has moved, I run into these women at the coffee shop next door all the time. Are you saying it’s unethical for me to get to know them because they’re friends with a former client of mine? It’s a small world. I’ve been doing this job for a long time and I’ve seen hundreds of people.”
“I don’t think this is about Hera at all,” Vic said. “I think this is about you having to decide, sooner rather than later, whether to keep Amelia as a client or not.”
“What do you think I should do?” Jill asked.
“You could refer her to a colleague that you know well and trust. Someone you know will give her the best care.”
“I could or I should?”
“You should. You’re not the only therapist in Sydney who can help her. Off the top of my head, at least four others come to mind.”
“They would need to be a medical doctor. A psychiatrist, like me. Otherwise, she won’t be able to trust the process.”
“All due respect, but that’s bullshit.”
“To her, it’s not. You know how important the first few sessions are. To establish that rapport, the initial seed of trust. This woman, she’s all about the hard sciences. If she has to start over with someone new, someone who isn’t a doctor, I fear she might give up before she starts to benefit from it.”
“We both know that in the short term, at least, an appointment with a psychiatrist is very hard to come by. She was lucky to have got one with you in the first place.”
Jill had to check herself. Was she being totally honest? Or was she twisting Amelia’s words to fit her own narrative—to find the ultimate excuse to keep her on. “I could call in a favor from a friend.” Jill had done similar favors for colleagues in the past.
“Sounds to me as though you know very well what you should do, Jill.” Vic rested her olive-green gaze on her.
“Oh, I know.” She all but threw her hands up in desperation. “I know I’m bargaining with myself and I know how pathetic it makes me look.”
“Maybe you should go on a date,” Vic said. “Not with your client, of course.”
“At my age, the whole dating thing is quite daunting. Rasmus and I were together for such a long time. I don’t even know where to start.”
“I wish I could give you some practical advice, but I’m afraid I would only be repeating whatever it is you’d find in a women’s magazine.”
“Maybe I should hang out at the Pink Bean more. Spread the word that I’m single and looking. Surely, I can’t be the only person on the pull.”
“That would actually be an excellent strategy. Let all your friends and acquaintances know that you’re open to meeting someone new. Friends of friends are always a good starting point.”
Jill wondered how on earth she’d keep her mind off Amelia, if she ever did find someone suitable to go on a date with. But she had to. She had a lightning strike to manage. First, however, she would need to tell Amelia that she had to refer her to a colleague, and why. Before she did that, she needed to find someone to refer her to. It all sounded so difficult, like such a bloody kerfuffle that she didn’t want to deal with. Of course not. All she wanted was to keep seeing Amelia.
At the end of her session with Vic, Jill stood and offered Vic a brief smile.
“I hope you have some good news for me next time. On all fronts,” Vic said.
Jill hoped so too.