Her office is full of colour and clutter. The walls are pastel pink, and the curtains emerald green. This is my third appointment, and I don't quite feel comfortable with either therapist or environment, but I'm okay.
"So, what happened in that relationship, Janine?"
When I tell her, she'll ask me how I feel about it, even if it is ridiculously obvious how I must "feel about it". She won't attempt to give me the elusive "answers", or any sort of advice. She wants me to give myself advice - unlock the answers for myself - hidden, as they are, somewhere within my own mind.
I still don't really know whether this is a total waste of time, but I've been through the waiting lists for waiting lists, even to get to this point. It would be crazy to walk out now.
"With Steve?" I know that's who she means. That's who we were just discussing, after all. I'm playing for time. I do that sometimes.
"Yes."
She isn't a natural blonde. She must be roughly ten years older than me, I would guess - about forty. Maybe a little older - hard to tell, in this light - and her make-up is immaculate, of course. She's glamorous - hate that word - something I've never been, and never will be. I don't usually wish that I was - only sometimes.
Like with Steve. Maybe it would have helped with Steve.
Yeah, right.
"He went off with a forty-five year old blonde called Sammy." It's almost fun, doing it this way, making her work for the truth. Oh, didn't I mention that the forty-five year old blonde called Sammy was Samuel, not Samantha? Well, I guess you never asked...
I'm gazing between two different landscapes. There are fields and sheep in the one in the oak frame. Next to it, is the window, revealing a view of wheelie bins and concrete. The one from our bedsit window - Steve's and mine - was more like the latter view. But you would need to add certain details - such as a few discarded lager cans, for a start - just to make the scene authentic.
We might be back in my childhood soon. Since what happened with Steve, and all of the others, relates to that, anyway - and so, we are bound to end up there somehow. Back to my mum's three bedroom semi, with my brother and two sisters, and the cats.
Like, I can't wait, right?
I might go to Costa Coffee, after this appointment. I know it's going to finish in precisely five minutes, because I've noticed her glancing at the clock.
