The Accidental Therapist

“So …,” I asked, “I’m wondering, would you like to schedule another appointment?”

Anyone listening would instantly have detected the hesitation in my voice. For my part, I was certain the answer from this couple would be an unequivocal, “No.” Put bluntly, the hour had not gone well.

It acutally started in the waiting room where they bickered loud enough for my three o’clock and me to hear. On entering my office, they moved the chairs to opposite sides of the room so as not to sit next to one another. Once seated, the bickering resumed — at every turn and about everything.

Mind you, I didn’t just sit and listen. Many, many times, I tried to redirect the interaction:

• Raising the index finger on my right hand, “Can I ask … ?”

• Addressing each person separately using their first name, “Can I ask you … ?”

• Employing the universal, two hands “calm down” gesure, “I want to interrupt here …”

At one point, I even said, “You know, you can continue this back and forth at home, where it doesn’t cost you anything.”

Regardless, the squabbling continued right up to the end of the hour. For that reason, I was taken aback when both answered, “Yes,” to my question about scheduling another session.

I blocked the time in my appointment book and said goodbye — almost certain they’d either cancel or not show up.

At ten minutes to the hour the following week, I noticed the waiting room was quiet. No raised voices — actually, no talking whatsoever. I hadn’t even heard the main office door open and close, as I sometimes did.

“Oh well,” I thought privately, “time to catch up on paperwork.”

And yet, there they were — and not just present, but seated closely, leaning into one another, hands clasped tightly together.

Once in my office, I had to work at containing my surpise as they took turns describing how their relationship had changed following our first visit.

“Both of us know we have more work to do,” the woman said, her partner nodding as she continued, “but we have you to thank for everything that’s happened.”

“Yeah,” the man added, “what you said as we were leaving last week … that … that really got the ball rolling.”

Perhaps sensing my confusion, she clarified, “You know, at the end, when you asked us if we wanted to schedule another session.”

“Mmm, hmm,” I replied, recalling the painful moment, but still clueless.

“You know, we both talked about that later,” she reported and then, with a laugh, asked rhetorically, “You wouldn’t have asked us to come back unless you had hope, you know, that we could be helped, right?”

What could I say? I just smiled and nodded.