fragments of my life [MERDER]

THIRTY - THREE

Meredith was not a therapy fan. She didn't like therapists. She didn't like her psych rotations, she didn't like how they psychoanalysed every single muscle movement you made and linked it back to a single traumatic event that happened in your childhood. She thought they were phoneys stealing a living. She didn't believe in therapy, in talking it out, in crying to a stranger about issues they had no part in. It made no sense to her. Only surgery made sense to her.

And yet, even she had the sharp realisation of the point her and Derek had reached. Every fathomable conclusion within reason seemed unattainable. There were things that needed to be said that neither her nor Derek would say to each other if left alone. They needed a mediator, to sit and listen and ask questions and interject if they needed to.

As she sat on the rough, beige couch, the other side of Derek, she became hyper-aware of her surroundings. A coffee stain on the table next to her, a book out of place in the bookshelf to her left, the therapist twiddling her pen between her thumb and finger as she stared at the pair. She could even hear the crackling murmur of the therapists throat as she took a sip of the lukewarm coffee placed next to her.

"So... why are you guys here today?" Meredith snapped out of her trance immediately, her head and eyes turning to face the woman that had addressed them.

"I'm not really sure how to define it." Derek interjected, sensing how his wife had spaced out.

"Relationship issues?" The therapist immediately replied.

"Yes... well. No, not really." Derek stumbled on his words. Were they really having issues? Was it just a product of the trauma? Were they even meant to be?

"I think what my husband is trying to say is... we went through something traumatic, and we're both struggling to cope with it, and it's interfering with our relationship, and our ability as parents." Meredith sighed, crossing over her leg on top of the other.

"You have children?" The therapist looked up from the pad of paper where she had previously been scribbling notes.

"We have four children... a fourteen-month-old and seven-week-old triplets." Derek smiled as he thought of the reason they were there.

"That's..." the therapist took a breath in, rolling her eyes slightly.

"A lot. We know." Meredith replied, a tinge of anger coating her words.

"Now you can see how important it is that we fix these issues... and quickly."  Derek interjected before his wife could say anymore.

"I see." The therapist looked at them, putting down her pen momentarily.

"I just... we knew we didn't need therapy. We just needed a safe space to talk through our feelings about... it all, to deal with our emotions surrounding... it." Derek continued.

"You do seem awfully reluctant to talk about 'it', Derek." The therapist proposed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Derek furrowed his eyebrows, almost immediately going on the defensive. Meredith just sat in silence.

"Well, think about it. You're a smart man. How are you supposed to work through your emotions after a trauma without acknowledging and speaking openly about the trauma in the first place?"  The therapist pried a bit more, hoping for a reaction.

"That's not entirely accurate." Derek fumbled.

"So you'd be comfortable telling me what happened, then?" She questioned.

"This is feeling like an interrogation." Derek almost growled, startling the therapist.

"That was not my intention. You said yourself how urgent it was that you sorted yourselves out. I'm trying to speed up that process. You have to face your feelings about it, and not let it be a secret, taboo subject for you two."