Sitting in the waiting area of Dr. Beesley’s office, I’m sweating profusely. My palms are slippery as hell and I’m praying she doesn’t offer her hand when we meet. My nerves have surely gotten the better of me on this day. I’m not sure what to expect when I walk through the door into her office, let alone what actually talking to her will be like. The thought alone has my stomach tied up in knots.
Do I actually have to talk? Can I sit there and be mute?
“Tenley Grace?” a nicely dressed woman around my age asks from the open doorway leading back into the offices.
“Yes, I’m here…it’s me.” It’s blatantly obvious, I am the only one sitting in the waiting room. Hell, I’m the only person in the office besides the receptionist.
“Follow me, please,” she orders, gesturing with an arm for me to walk through the door.
Without answering, I get up and proceed to follow her back toward her office, assuming she’s Dr. Beesley. She opens another door leading into a brightly lit office, then motions for me to enter before her. The walls are painted a calming shade of pale yellow. There’s a teak wood desk in the corner, with an open laptop and paperwork strewn on top, two pale blue comfy arm chairs sitting in front of it. Off to the side is an off-white chaise lounge, two soft green side chairs, and several colorful throw pillows covering every available surface. The paintings on the wall are all ocean themed. The whole office feels...inviting. Calming. Welcoming.
“Please take a seat wherever you’ll be the most comfortable. I’m Dr. Miranda Beesley. You may call me Miranda, if you like. If calling me by my first name makes you uncomfortable you can call me Dr. Beesley. You’ll find I like to keep matters as casual as possible around here. Now, don’t take it the wrong way, I’m not here to be your friend, I’m here to be your doctor. I’m here to help. I only want you to be as comfortable as possible. I read over your paperwork before I called you back here. I see there’s several factors bringing you in today. Would you like to start with any one thing in particular?” she asks.
I’d like to start by leaving. Or staying silent. Instead, I take a seat on the chaise lounge, sitting my purse on the floor, closest to my right side. The side I can grab it fastest and flee, if need be. Her words have overwhelmed me. Her voice is soothing, her office is peaceful, but I’m tense. First meeting and all.
“Tenley. May I call you Tenley?” she asks.
“Sure, I guess it’d be okay,” I reply. Shit, I talked.
“If you don’t want to talk today, it’s okay. Believe me, it’s understandable and I’ve dealt with it before. I can do all the talking for us and go over a few guidelines with you. Touch base on what I’d like to accomplish during our sessions together—what I’d like to see happen with you while you’re under my care,” she explains.
“Alright,” I reply, having resulted to solitary word answers. “Um…sounds great, I guess. Easier than my opening up today and all.” There, maybe if I add in a few words I won’t seem entirely closed off. She said she’s used to patients not talking on the first day anyway.
“Okay, it’s what we’ll do for today. I would like to ask you a few questions first though, purely relating to medication and your frame of mind. How are you sleeping?”
“Honestly? I’m not. At least not without sleep aids. I’m stubborn though and don’t like to break down and take the pill until it’s absolutely necessary. Usually it’s near dawn when I finally swallow one.”
“Okay, right now until we get down to what’s bothering you, Tenley, I'd feel more comfortable knowing you're taking the sleeping aids as prescribed. I see from your paperwork your primary care physician has you on a low dose of Ambien. When you take those, normally how long does it take for the pill to take effect?”
“They truly don't, when I finally give in and take one. Once I see the dregs of orange making its way into the sky, proving I've met another morning, it's at least a solid hour after the sky changes and the sun’s risen before I feel sleepy. I will say this though, once I am asleep on them, I stay sleeping for at least six hours.”
“Hm. Okay then. It's great the pill works once it finally kicks in, but I'm going to change your dosage. I want you to try something new with it tonight. Take the new dosage around 11 p.m. and see if it works for you. If it does, try it again tomorrow night. We’ll meet again the next day to go over those results. Just because you have to take a pill for assistance now doesn't mean you’re weak, Tenley. It makes you strong to admit you need assistance. Since we didn't cover much of substance today, I’d like for us to meet three times a week for the first month. After the first month, we’ll go down to two visits a week and down again and repeat. As long as you keep improving the less we'll see each other. You are incredibly strong for coming here today. I'm looking forward to our sessions together. I'm going to make a few prescription changes for your depression today as well, and we’ll sit and talk at your next appointment. Does everything I’ve mentioned sound okay?” she asks.
She must've known by my expression I wanted to flee. I'm sure it screamed, this one’s a runner. And up until I saw the comforting office and furniture, I had planned on running. Turning around and walking straight out the door. Bye, Felicia. Good riddance. Peace out. But the damn chaise lounge did me in. Not only did it appear comfy, it is comfy. Dammit.
“Ye-yeah, sounds perfect. I was scared to come here today. You don't know how many times I've thought about running out the door. The only reason I stayed once you brought me back here was your furniture and how comforting your office appears.”
Laughing softly, she replies, “I hear the same thing at least once a day.”
At least I’m not the only one.
“I’ve written you a new prescription for a higher dose of Ambien and given you enough for a week. If after a week it’s not working like it should, we’ll try something else. I’ve also changed your Paxil dosage and added in Abilify for you to take. It’s been proven to work alongside antidepressants, thus I’d like to see if it could essentially help you,” she explains.
Great, more medications. Not exactly what I wanted to hear but then again, I didn’t actually open my mouth either. She’s only going by what’s on my paperwork. Hopefully, these drugs are not a long-term solution but only a short-term answer.
“Okay, I’ll start the new medications tonight. Do I set my appointments with you or with Gabby out front?” I ask.
“We can set them up back here if you like and then you can be on your way.”
After setting up the next months’ worth of appointments, I leave Dr. Beesley’s office feeling a bit...lighter. Which I find highly odd because I didn’t voice any of my concerns to her. Not a damn thing. Besides the sleep issue and I didn’t bring it up, she did.
Deciding since I’m already out, I may as well stop by Bookmark It! and take the next step in my new life. I park my silver Lexus out front, kill the engine, and stare at the front of the store. Doing the exact same thing I did yesterday, only this time from the comfort of my own car and not the sidewalk out front.
After fifteen minutes pass I open my door, I know how long it’s been because when I killed the engine, my radio plays for exactly fifteen minutes before the key has to be turned again, or the car started, to turn the music back on. The first step out is a heavy one. My shoes feel like they’re filled with lead. Why are the smallest battles sometimes the hardest things?
You can do it, Tenley. You’re a strong woman.
If I keep telling myself I’m strong, eventually I’ll believe it. But I’m not strong. At least not anymore. I’m positive I was once, and probably will be again, but it’ll take a lot of practice for me. One step at a time. This is one of those steps.
Opening the front door, the familiar bell jingles and calms me like it did yesterday. Luellen is busy with a customer but she looks up, sees me, and smiles. One can only imagine the thoughts running through her head. Instead of wasting time and seeing what’s new, I go up to the counter and wait behind the customer she’s currently helping.
Overhearing the girl ask for a new recommendation, I speak up. “Lu has a stellar indie section. I think you’d like Tarryn Fisher, Aly Martinez, and Linda Kage. In the new section you’d like Colleen Hoover, anything and everything she writes. And since I see some paranormal in your pile, Sarah J Maas is amazing when it comes to fantasy.”
Please don’t let me have overstepped my boundaries by making a suggestion to this customer.
“Oh my goodness. You’re Tenley Grace. I love everything you’ve ever written. May I take a picture with you? Will you sign a copy of one of your books, if I buy one, since I don’t have any with me?” the excited girl asks.
“Yes, and yes.” Because who would say no to a fan, even if I am depressed? I can’t turn one down for an autograph or a picture. It wouldn’t bode well for me with future fans to let this one down today. Word would spread like wildfire online.
After smiling for the selfie, Lu hands me one of my books she has in stock. “What’s your name? You’d like it personalized, I’m assuming?” I ask the bubbly girl.
“Oh, heck yeah, I’d like it personalized. Stephanie, my name is Stephanie. Wow, I still can’t believe I ran into you in a bookstore of all places. Your words saved my life. I had suffered a miscarriage when I stumbled upon one of your books on Amazon. I one-clicked it and read it in a single sitting. Afterward, I clicked buy on each one I could. You’ve gotten me through one of the hardest times in my life. Thank you, Tenley. I’ll also buy those books you recommended—the ones by authors you mentioned—anything you like must be golden.”
Well, I wouldn’t go as far as saying they’re golden. In fact, I know some of them are leaps and bounds better than I am as an author, but I’d never tell Stephanie this. At least not to her face. Social media? Yeah, I would post something there about how amazeballs Colleen or one of the others is.
“They’re amazing, I highly recommend them. You won’t be disappointed. Their writing is flawless. The heroes? Swoon. You’ll love them. I promise. And thank you for telling me your story. It’s readers like you, Stephanie, who make the difference between authors opening their laptops or keeping them closed.” At least it’s a half-truth.
Luellen rings up Stephanie’s purchases after I signed not one but two books for her, and she left with ten more by the authors I mentioned. It’s only Lu and myself in the store now. Taking a deep breath, I brace myself for what’s next. Here goes nothing and everything. Take the leap, Tenley.
“Mama was telling me something about you needing extra help around the store. Is it true?” I ask.
“Yes, I do. The last girl I hired left me a couple of weeks ago; she ran off to get married. It’s not much of a job, Tenley, but it is yours if you’d like it. Only a few hours here or there to help me out. I can’t always be here myself, therefore I’d like someone I trust to be here in those times. You could write from here, if you wanted. It wouldn’t bother me none,” Lu explains.
“Okay, I’ll do it. Don’t worry about paying me, I want to do this. Actually, I need to do this. Getting out of the house will undoubtedly help with my depression. Mama seems to think my going out in public and getting to be around people will help leaps and bounds. And I’m inclined to agree, but don’t tell her I said that. It’s time I admit to myself after two years my Michael isn’t coming back. It’s time I move on and help heal myself. I’d like to start doing it here,” I admit.
Wow, those words are more than I’ve said to anyone in days. Maybe weeks. It felt…oddly good.
“Sounds great to me. You can start tomorrow evening around four. I’ll be here and show you everything you need to know about running my little slice of heaven.”
And with those words, I’m hired. I’m a writer and now a bookseller. Let’s not forget a therapy patient, widower, and a depressant. Aren’t I a bucket full of shit and rainbows?