The receptionist's telephone rang, startling Emily from her thoughts and causing her to jump. She found herself suddenly very desperate to leave, sure she'd made a mistake in starting therapy again. While not overly expensive, she couldn't help but begin a mental list of all the far more useful things she could do with the money. Just as she was about to finish working out how many boxes of macaroni and cheese she'd be missing out on, she became aware that her name was being called.

Dr. Frangipani: "Miss Emily Laine?"
Emily: "That's me, sorry."

She stood up quickly, suddenly acutely aware of every move she made. How would the doctor take her lack of attention? Was she walking too slowly? Too quickly? She followed the psychologist down a short hallway to an office lit entirely by fluorescent lights. They seemed oddly out of place with the otherwise warm décor, which was no doubt chosen to try to ease the patient into feeling more at home.

The patient.

She was once again defined by her relationship to another person. She began to wonder if she only existed when she had other people around her, if there really was an Emily Isolde Laine at all and not just people's perceptions of her.

Dr. Frangipani: "You can sit anywhere you'd like, whatever makes you most comfortable."
Emily: "Thanks."

Emily stared blankly at the two overstuffed seating choices. She began instantly to second-guess everything she was doing. What would it mean if she chose the couch instead of the chair? If she chose the chair and sat cross-legged, would that mean she'd had an abusive childhood? Was she taking too long to make a decision?

Emily: "Where's the fainting couch?"
Dr. Frangipani: "Those haven't been in use for decades. You're welcome to lay down on the couch of course."
Emily: "No, that's OK. That just was a lame attempt at humor."

Emily chose to sit in the chair nearest the large desk in the center of the room and waited patiently while the doctor sifted through her files.

Dr. Frangipani: "It says here you were seeing Dr. Tevella recently. Why did you stop going?"
Emily: "My insurance ran out. I was actually going to go back to him, but … well you know."
Dr. Frangipani: "Yes, we were all shocked to hear of his sudden passing."
Emily: "It was a bit startling, I suppose."

Emily tensed as the doctor scribbled out a note on the paper in front of her. From the lack of expression on the woman's face, she couldn't tell if she'd just jotted down 'Needs to be institutionalized immediately' or 'Pick up milk on the way home.'

Dr. Frangipani: "So what brings you back to therapy now?"
Emily: "I'm not really sure. I guess I just haven't felt 'right' in a very long time."
Dr. Frangipani: "Has this feeling been getting worse lately?"
Emily: "I guess so. I mean it's not like I'm hearing voices telling me to burn things or something, but I just haven't been feeling like myself."
Dr. Frangipani: "You don't have to hear voices to need help, Miss Laine. Try to relax a little, this is only our first session."

Emily wasn't so sure relaxing would be all that easy. She couldn't help but feel the need to prove to this person in front of her that she needed to be there, maybe even to be reassured that she wasn't overreacting. All she wanted was a sense of normalcy to return, to be able to interact with other people without worrying about what hidden motives they could have.

As much as she knew all this, she couldn't bring herself to come right out and say any of it to this complete stranger sitting across from her.

Dr. Frangipani: "You've recently relocated. How is that going?"
Emily: "It's going really well. Our next door neighbors make me feel completely sane."
Dr. Frangipani: "And what about your roommate?"
Emily: "Mary is more than a best friend. I consider her family. She's my only family, actually. Is this the part where we talk about my relationship with my mother? Because I can save us some time and tell you there is none."
Dr. Frangipani: "If you'd like to talk about that we can."
Emily: "There's nothing to talk about really."

Dr. Frangipani: "Your file says that Dr. Tevella tried to get you to see a psychiatrist but you refused. What's your reasoning behind this?"
Emily: "I don't like taking medications, that's all."
Dr. Frangipani: "Why not? You may find they help you overcome things a little easier."
Emily: "I'd really rather not get into that right now."

Dr. Frangipani: "That's OK. We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to right now. Why don't we talk about your photography instead."
Emily: "I'm honestly not trying to be difficult, but there's not much to talk about with that these days either. My studio was closed down over six months ago and I haven't been able to get anything else going in that entire time."
Dr. Frangipani: "Did you work with anyone at that time?"
Emily: "No, I pretty much ran the studio myself. There were lots of days when I wished I had an assistant, but it just never happened."

Dr. Frangipani: "Did you own the studio outright?"
Emily: "My name was on the sign, but no. It wasn't my studio."
Dr. Frangipani: "So you had a boss?"
Emily: "In a roundabout way I guess technically yes. Andrew Stone owns the building."
Dr. Frangipani: "How did you two get along?"

Emily paused, feeling every muscle in her body tense. She hadn't been expecting her relationship with Andy to be brought up so quickly; it had taken her last therapist several visits to even approach the subject, and she'd been hoping for the same with her new doctor. She inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly before answering.

Emily: "We dated for a while."
Dr. Frangipani: "And the relationship ended badly?"
Emily: "Do relationships end any other way? Of course it ended badly."

Once again the woman across from her scribbled something out on a piece of paper, yet Emily swore she saw a slight hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She wondered what it could mean before brushing it off as lingering paranoia.

Dr. Frangipani: "Do you want to have a relationship with him again?"
Emily: "No, not at all."
Dr. Frangipani: "You seem quite adamant about that. I can't help but wonder if there could be any lingering feelings you're trying to hide from."
Emily: "I assure you that I'm well and truly over that waste of skin."
Dr. Frangipani: "We'll work on your lingering resentment in later sessions."

The next half hour passed quickly; Emily continued to answer the doctor's mundane questions as best she could while trying not to come across as too crazy. It didn't escape her attention that her near-death experience was left out of the conversation completely. Based on her past experience she knew this would be brought up eventually, after her new therapist learned best how to keep her from trying to throw herself out the window in a fit of despair. She fought back a fit of giggles at the thought when she realized they were on the first floor, not wanting to have to explain herself.

Dr. Frangipani: "I think our first session was a success. I'd like to see you again in a few weeks if that's possible, so before you leave make sure you set up an appointment with the receptionist. I'm only in a few times a month but I'm sure she can fit you in."
Emily: "Do I pay her now, or will I be billed for this?"
Dr. Frangipani: "You pay up at the front. We take cash, checks and credit cards."
Emily: "Thanks, Dr. Frangipani."

Dr. Frangipani: "It's my pleasure."