…MY WORK AS a counsellor was filled with drama. I ordered a years supply of tissues every January, and over the decades I needed more and more. Mostly for the client.
The room I used was spartan. Free from distractions; three soft armchairs, a coffee table that scarcely supported any of its namesake on it, tissues, a small pile of Crisis Intervention pamphlets and my folder, cheap blue plastic, empty but for one page on the woman who sat before me, it being her first time.
“Before we start I find it’s always beneficial to get to know one another…” She recoiled and fidgeted with her handbag strap on her lap, avoiding eye contact.
I softened my voice. “I’m Dennis Roundhill and I’ve been a counsellor for over two decades specialising in domestic issues.” I omitted ‘abuse’.
She looked over, eyes unsettled, shifting in her chair. “I’m Corrina…I appreciate you taking your time counsellor.” Her tone was muted.
“What I would like to do today…” I didn’t get a chance to continue.
“Please!” she interrupted. “I’ve been to counsellors before, I just want help, I can’t cope any more, the situation has gotten out of control. I need help! Today! Not tomorrow! Today!”
I understood her desperation. An abusive husband? a controlling partner? The scenario all too familiar.
“I understand Cor…”
“No! No, you don’t! You do not understand! I don’t care how many years of experience you have, you cannot understand…nobody does. My friends laugh at me, my boss said I’m fired if I call in again. I need help and I need it today!” Her pent up emotions were nothing unusual but the desperation and need in each word hit me hard, pinning me to the back of my seat.
“Of course!” I soothed. “That’s why I’m here, that’s why you’re here. It’s a brave step and you’re here now.” I glanced at my blank paper. “Please can you give me a better idea of what your circumstances and issue or issues are? I’ll be taking some brief notes, I hope that’s ok.”
She didn’t need any encouragement.
“He hits me. I have bruises all down my legs!” She pulled up her skirt revealing dark marks on her calves and shins. “He trashes the house when he’s angry, if I lock him in a room he causes so much damage.” She looked despairingly at the walls and ceiling wiping a tear away before it could fall.
Locked in a room?
I interjected. “How often does this happen Corrina?”
“Well – every day…I just don’t know what to do any more.” Her pitch shot up, on the verge of breaking down. I nudged the tissues closer to her, but she declined using her fingers to dab at her eyes.
He sounded like a monster. Of course I couldn’t say that. “In addition to physical abuse is there verbal abuse, controlling behaviour…”
She nodded, sniffling. “He doesn’t speak though, it’s all physical so far…”
“He doesn’t speak?”
She took a moment to reply. Looking downward. “Well, it’s pretty embarrassing, I know I should be able to cope with him…to be a good mother…”
A good mother?!
Trying to remain professional I offered up an empty cliché. “Remember, you’re the victim, you are not to blame, ok!”
She continued unprompted. “Do you have any idea what it’s like hearing other mothers calling him my little green monster?” She paused to reflect briefly, then more tears flowed, unnoticed this time, a good sign; she was letting go.
“He’s due to start school next year…I…I…” Annnd she was gone: mascara laced tears she’d held back pouring freely, helping herself to handfuls of tissues, trying to control her sobbing.
A good mother?!?
I gave her a moment. “Can you clarify some details for me? You’re not talking about a husband or partner?” She shook her head, sniffing, touching gingerly at the corners of her eyes with tissue.
“He’s my baby boy…he’s only…four years old.” Sniffle. “My little baby Hulk…”
LionAroundWriting 
I sat there and wondered about green… and I can understand that locks don’t help… the only things is never to make a four year old angry… that is never easy.
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Thanks for reading.
It is especially important not to anger a young Hulk (rumour has it).
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Great job. Nice ending.
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Thanks Don.
Bought a copy of Blood Orange btw – half way through, really enjoying it 🙂
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Thank you so much. Which one of yours would you recommend? I’d love to check one out.
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I’m not published yet. But I expect to be within the next 6 months.
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I’ll be glad to read it when you are. I like your writing style.
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Funny ending. Knew it wouldn’t be just abuse, because you always have a twist. Well described story and a good laugh at the end. Thanks
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Thank you.
Im getting predictable in my old age.. 🙂 😐
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Predictable is not always bad, particularly if the outcome or product is great. 🙂 Now I’ll have to wait for you to fool us all.
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I’ll try!
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Knowing your twisty style, I figured from the beginning this wouldn’t be a spousal abuse story. But a green little Hulk…I didn’t see that coming. 🙂 Enjoyed your story, Lion.
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Ha ha! You guessed right. I had to throw something wild out there.
Thanks Mary, I always appreciate your your feedback.
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And I appreciate the entertaining stories to read. 🙂
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Haha I didn’t see that coming.
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I’m glad 🙂
Thank you for reading as always.
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This was really good. Loved the twist at the end. 🙂
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Thanks hrh, I appreciate you dropping by and giving me some feedback 🙂
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oh! wow! So, does her little boy give her the bruises? or does she give herself the bruises because she’s stressed out about her uncontrolled boy?
Sounds serious. Is this a true story? or a story?
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Its fiction 🙂 although im glad you thought it might not have been.
Her little ‘angel’ is the agressor, yep.
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Cool. Cool. At first you had me convinced it was real. The reason being that you’re writing is convincing and real story-telling. I love that in a writer.
So her son is the angel aggressor huh? That sounds scary and wow! Powerful writing and stories you have my friend. I’m looking forward to reading more of your work. 🙂
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Thanks for your kind words 🙂
Likewise!
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You’re welcome my friend. 🙂
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