Quicklinks:
|
Great Writing - Home > Extended > Lorraine Part 8
| READING ROOM | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
|
| COMMUNITY | |||
|---|---|---|---|
|
| ABOUT GREAT WRITING | ||
|---|---|---|
|
| WORK AWAITING REVIEW |
|---|
|
| GW IS... |
|---|
|
Great Writing creative writing community is designed to prompt ideas
and provide inspiration and motivation within aspiring and amateur
authors. Whatever your topic; from love poetry to Doctor Who or Harry
Potter fan fiction, Great Writing's online writing group is where you
can make new friends and improve your creative writing. |
| WHO'S ONLINE |
|---|
| We have 1416 guests online and 3 members online |
Extended Work
| print friendly version | |
| Lorraine Part 8 | |
| By amy456 | ||||||
| 06 July 2006 | ||||||
|
This starts slowly, but overall I'm very proud of it. Please keep reviewing I appreciate it so much. By the way, there is one line with an asterisk (*), this is where I've ripped off some of julie's work. Sorry for borrowing, hope you don't mind! Megan’s diary Today I went to see Janice again. Mum drove me and, in my opinion, she is the only person I know who needs to see a counsellor more than me. She is not a good or a confident driver; she only passed her test about a year ago. I don’t feel bad about saying this because she is the first person to admit she dislikes driving and only learnt because she wanted to feel independent. Personally, I don’t see the point. She is dependent on her anti-depressants anyway, and doesn’t seem to mind that. “Mum,” I said, “Why today? I thought we had quit all this.” She didn’t answer. “I thought you and dad agreed it was a waste of money,” I persisted. I know that therapy doesn’t come cheap – Janice charges £35 an hour, which she definitely is not worth. I think it’s terrible, exploiting vulnerable people. “Wrong,” mum said, tight-lipped. “Your father thought that. I never thought anything that helped you was a waste of money.” “Okay,” I said reasonably, “so I guess you managed to change his mind.” Mum looked squarely at me. It worried me, her taking her eyes off the road like that. “He doesn’t know,” she said. I said nothing. “Megan!” she said sharply. “You won’t tell him, will you? This is for your own good, okay? Megan!” “I won’t, I won’t,” I said hastily. “Good. I’m glad I can rely on you. And you will be honest with Janice?” “What?” Mum looked embarrassed. “She told me you’re not exactly very giving. Honey, I know it’s difficult, talking about your problems, but I want you to try, okay? I’m paying a lot of money for this, and ultimately it’s down to you how successful it is.” “Whatever happened to patient confidentiality!” I exclaimed. “Besides, I don’t like Janice. She gives me the creeps.” “Nonsense,” mum said firmly. “You know I would let you change, if I thought it was best. But really, it’s not worth starting all over again with someone new. Janice knows our history. She understands where we’re coming from.” I had never been under than impression, but I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I decided to attack on what I considered to be her weakest point – money. “Mum, we can’t afford it anyway. Not really. All this money!” “Obviously we can,” mum replied through gritted teeth, “or we would not be going.” “You know what I mean. Don’t you resent paying it? Especially for Janice; I don’t see what’s so great about her. I’m sure we could get the same treatment free elsewhere.” “Actually, we couldn’t. Bloody NHS making cutbacks everywhere, especially in mental health.* As far as counselling goes, we’re on our own. Now, you’re seeing Janice and that’s the end of it. Not another word!” At 18, I am entitled to refuse treatment and basically do what I like; I know that, and mum knows that. But believe it or not, I decided to humour her. When she makes her mind up on something, it’s the devil’s work to change it. And if she wanted it to happen so much she was prepared to go against dad, well, that spoke volumes. So I resigned myself to an uncomfortable morning making things up to Janice. It has never occurred to me to actually tell Janice the truth – never, never. Just the thought of telling anyone makes me physically sick – and Janice would certainly be the last on my list. ************************************************************** The session with Janice was awful. From the moment I saw her I knew it was going to be a rocky ride. “Megan!” she beamed. “And Lorraine! I’m very pleased to see you both. How are you? Glad you could make it, Lor.” “Hi, Jan,” said mum, echoing Janice’s free use of a nickname. “We’ve been good, haven’t we, Megan?” I thought it was the stupidest thing I had ever heard. Obviously we had not been good, or why would we be seeking counselling? I scowled at the floor, and said nothing. Janice was obviously used to moments like these, because she didn’t seem in the least bit fazed. “How have you been, Megan?” she asked directly. “Did your exams go all right?” “Fine,” I said coolly. I was prepared to humour mum, but I drew the line at Janice. “She’s a bit tired,” mum said apologetically, shooting me a warning glance. “Up all night reading, wasn’t she!” She and Janice laughed in a conspiratorial grown-up way. “She’s promised me she’s going to do her best,” mum continued uneasily. “Good, good,” Janice replied, nodding her head enthusiastically. “Megan knows there’s no pressure to tell me things, but that it’s always good to talk.” They exchanged a few more stupid pleasantries, which I can’t copy down because I wasn’t listening, and even if I had been, I wouldn’t have remembered such inanities. I was imagining that I was Cassandra Mortmain in my castle, and Topaz was dancing naked on the hill . . . Finally it ended, and Janice asked if I were ready. What choice did I have but to nod? I was led to a small but comfortable room and invited to sit on a sofa decorated with such an abundance of plumped-up cushions that it was actually difficult to find a space to sit down. “Right,” she began. “How are you feeling, Megan?” I shrugged. “OK, I guess.” “Just OK?” “Fine,” I amended. She flicked through her notebook, absently I thought, but then she said, “So. My records say it’s been four months since you’ve seen me. What have you been doing during that time?” “Studying,” I said slowly and distinctly, like I was talking to a very small person or someone to whom something should be obvious. “I bet you’re glad the exams are all over. It must be a big weight off your shoulders.” I said nothing. “Is it?” she added. I shrugged again, and then feeling guilty about being so exasperating, said “Nobody likes exams, do they?” “No, I guess not,” Janice said, in a way that made it seem as if the concept was a new one to her and something she had only just realised. “So how do you think you did?” How the hell would I know? So I had my familiar recourse to silence. “Well enough to get into uni?” Janice pressed. “We’ll have to wait and see,” I said sweetly. “Well, you’re certainly giving nothing away,” said Janice, quite cheerfully. “Do you know why your mother called me?” I did have an idea, but said nothing. “It’s because you hit your sister,” Janice continued matter-of-factly. “Why did you do it, Megan?” I sighed. What a long story to go into now! But I couldn’t even tell her the real reason. So I did nothing but sigh and nibble my nails and stare at the ground. “Were you angry? Were you angry with her?” This was impossible! I have quite a sharp tongue on me really, and said, “No, I did it because I was happy, actually.” “So why were you angry? Did your sister say something to upset you?” I folded my arms resolutely and fixed my eyes on the floor. “I’m not here to judge you, Megan. I’m here to help you. But I can only do that if you explain things to me. Tell me about your sister. Do you get on with her? How do feel about her?” Ah, a subject about which I could be expansive! “Kirsty,” I said, smiling nastily. “Aptly named, huh?” “I’m sorry?” Apparently, I had lost her. “Kirsty – the curse of my life,” I explained. Actually, that’s not true. You and I, dear diary, know what the real curse of my life is. But Kirsty is near enough. “Why is she the ‘curse of your life’?” Janice asked, and she actually seemed interested. “Mum prefers her to me,” I said, and regretted it immediately on hearing how pathetically childish it sounded. “What makes you think that your mother prefers your sister to you?” I was rather reluctant to go into details, but thought that I might as well make some concessions. “It’s everything, really. Mainly little things. Like, she always takes her side in everything. And she refers to her as her angel.” This particular trait is extremely sickening. “And how does that make you feel?” I shrugged. “I dunno. Bad, I guess.” “You say she always takes Kirsty’s side,” said Janice, leaning forward, and I could tell she was really getting into it now. “When someone is physically violent, people tend to blame the person who’s being violent, even if it’s not them who started the argument, or is in the wrong. So when you feel all angry inside and you want to lash out, you need to find a way to vent those feelings without attacking somebody.” “Mmm.” All this beating around the bush was beginning to tire me. “Have you thought of how you could do that?” Janice asked. When she saw that I would offer no suggestions, she said, “Have you tried counting to ten?” “No,” I said harshly. “You could even try it backwards,” she suggested excitedly. “And then leave the situation. Tell your mother what it is that’s upset you. Remove yourself from the source of anger before it gets the better of you.” “I’ll try it next time,” I said sarcastically. There was a short pause. Then Janice said, “Have you told your mother how you feel?” “No.” “Do you think that maybe that’s something you could do?” “Maybe,” I said, just to get her off my back. “I know your mother wants the best for you,” Janice stated. “You have just come out of a very stressful time and there’ve been many different pressures on you. But she is here if you need to talk to her. I’m here. You’re not alone.” “Thanks,” I replied dryly. “Right!” Janice smiled. “Let’s go and see what mum’s been up to, shall we?” And that, thank God, was the end of the interview. What a waste of time, I thought as we drove back in the car. What a ****ing waste of time. Mum looked over at me worriedly. “How did it go, Megan?” She’d known better than to ask Janice in front of me. “OK,” I said vaguely. What could she say to that? We drove along in silence for five minutes or so, and then she said, “You know I’ve made another appointment for three weeks time.” “Another one? Mum, I don’t want to see Janice any more!” “Tough,” she said evenly. “Dad wouldn’t want me to,” I added. “Drop it, Megan,” she replied. When we got home I went straight upstairs to my room to write in you. I can’t believe the stupidity of my mother, and Janice, though I suppose the latter has at least the excuse of only trying to do her job. Whereas my mother!!!!! But I’ve written too much. More tomorrow. Megan
Only registered users can rate and write comments. Powered by AkoComment 2.0! |
||||||
 Previous item
|
Next item
|
|---|