The sudden knock on the door startled the doctor. She looked up and was waiting for the person to enter, and nothing was happening. Had it been Jeanie, who had been taken care of her office for the past four years, the door would have been open by now. She looked at her clock, and couldn’t remember having another appointment. She had planned to spend her after-noon writing progress notes, having an early dinner in her office, and possibly falling asleep on the comfortable sofa.
A second knock came abruptly. What the hell? She thought to herself as she got up from her chair, straightened her skirt and shirt up, and started walking towards it. She was about to yell for Jeanie, when the door knob started slowly moving, towards the left then towards the right, as if the person didn’t know which was the right way. She grabbed it and pushed the door open. She was weary of unexpected visits to her office, and preferred when people called in advance. But if someone needed help, she was always there. Who knows, maybe this one would help the burnt-out sensations she had been experiencing for the past two months. She was so tired of people who went to therapy just because they didn’t have any friends, and refused to change anything about themselves in order to get some. She was tired of the borderline personalities who loved and hated her from one minute to the next based on her challenging statements. She was tired of people lacking parenting skills but blaming their children’s problems on the school systems. She had been contemplating selling her practice and moving to an island off the coast of Brazil, where she could just enjoy the local fauna and flora, and write, write, write…
The man at the door came as a surprise. She wasn’t easily impressed by physicality, but this one was different. Somewhat oblong face, somewhat disheveled hair, somewhat playful and inviting look in his eyes. Somewhat not the type of face that you can easily read, as she was used to, but that is intriguing enough to lead to more personal than anything interaction. He sported an Edwardian suit, with a slightly flared jacket, curly-trimmed bowler hat, and a long, slender overcoat with velvet collar and cuffs. Surprising and out of place, yes, but somehow appropriate for the formality of the situation. She smiled as she showed him in, and towards her ‘client’ chair. She had her routine in place. She would ask him what had brought him there, she would establish rapport and encourage disclosure. She would cover confidentiality issues. She would discuss transference and countertransference if it came up. And it did. He asked about it. But not then.
***
Sometime during their third appointment, he hinted at feeling drawn to her. He couldn’t quite come out and say it, but he was saying enough for her to know what he wanted. He wanted to know if she had ever been involved with any of her clients. She attempted to keep a straight face, although it was difficult to ignore the sensations she, herself, was starting to get when seeing him. She couldn’t quite figure out what it was, and what was causing it. Maybe it was his taste in music, so eclectic and confusing at times, but so wide open and inviting exploration. Maybe it was the talking about his beautiful wife, whom he loved dearly and had children with. Maybe it was just the way he looked at her with painfully sad eyes and anxiety-ridden smiles. She knew better than that. She knew that was the moment to refer him to someone else. But she couldn’t let go either. The second the thought occurred to her, she realized how difficult it would be to actually say it. And then what?
She wanted so badly to let go of her morals and ethics, she wanted to just get off her chair, walk over to him, and touch his face. She spent inordinate amounts of time fantasizing about allowing all her senses to take in this unexpected human being who had stumbled into her life. And yet, she couldn’t quite do it. What would people think? What would other professionals say about her in their closed circles? What would she, herself, think about her own inability to control her basic, human impulses to possess something desired and wanted so violently that the thought of it hurt…
***
She didn’t know how long it had been since she had seen him last. He had stopped coming to her office with no warning or explanation. She should have been used it, people did it all the time. But she couldn’t shake the bad feeling she was getting every time she thought about it. And she couldn’t shake her fantasies and dreams about him. She was just about to call the number he had left as an emergency contact, and try to find out what had become of him, when she heard an all too familiar knock on her door. He didn’t wait for an invitation, but simply came in, and met her half way. His hands were trembling and she could almost hear his heart beating in his chest. A couple of drops of sweat on his forehead drew her attention, and she could not stop her hand from touching it. The skin contact almost burnt her. The mixture of delight and agony she experienced was similar to what she had felt getting her first tattoo, begging the artist to stop but pleading with him to continue. She traced the lines on his face, touched the sensitive skin on the lobes of his ears, and finally reached towards the back of his neck, to the hair line, so inviting, eager, and bold. She pulled him closer so she could take in the scent of his being. The scent of his lips, like bitter-sweet almonds, was overwhelming and she couldn’t resist it. Their lips locked in an almost kiss, just enough to breathe lust into each other’s mouths. She suddenly turned around and had him embrace her tight against his chest, his breath weighing heavily on her own neck. She felt like in a trance and words to stop this were none. She finally let herself go…
***
Sun light exploded in her face when she opened her eyes. The nurse looked down at her with the same stupid grin she had witnessed for the past four months. Time for your morning medicine, sweetie! The unpleasant woman handed a plastic cup to her, waited until the pills were down her throat, made her open the mouth and checked under her tongue and inside her cheeks, then proclaimed satisfaction and only yelled on her way out: Don’t forget to show up for group today… Might be good to share some of these dreams you have about a long-lost lover… Haha, that should be interesting!
She didn’t care what they thought. She knew he was real. She opened her sketch book and started drawing again. An Edwardian suit, with a slightly flared jacket, curly-trimmed bowler hat, and a long, slender overcoat with velvet collar and cuffs. When she was done, she rolled over in her bed, closed her eyes, and started dreaming again. A bitter-sweet scent of almonds lingered around the room…