REVERSE PSYCHOLOGY

2- Dr Daugherty

Theresa took steady steps closer to the door she had just knocked on, and not looking back at the receptionist who was busy writing down every insult she could find on Stacey, took the doorknob in her small hand and entered the office after reading the golden plate that was stuck in the wood of the door.
It seemed new, and read 'Dr. Tristan Daugherty'.

And with one last sight, she went through the doorstep and observed the room.
It was plain white, except for a few walls that were a pale shade of green and two red velvet sofas. A seat that looked way too expensive to be comfortable was almost hidden by the mahogany desk in front of the only window of this room.
Had it not been for the man staring deeply at something in front of him, she wouldn't have noticed the library.

It was a small one but it was heavily filled with books. The man -who she assumed was her psychiatrist for the few sessions she was planning to have- was thinking about something, his index finger on his red lips and the rest of his hand under his chin. He didn't seem to have noticed her even though he had clearly told her to come in.

It's only when the door behind Theresa closed shut, announcing her arrival that he did look up at her.
"Oh, well hello there!" Dr. Daugherty exclaimed happily once he saw the woman standing very uncomfortably, a beige file in her hand.

She appeared like the confident type to the doctor, just from her clothes, even though he had learned in college not to misjudge someone because of their looks and that their was always something more, but for a reason he couldn't point his finger on just yet, she seemed... uncomfortable? Scared? Nervous?
Ah... first therapy, he thought.

Without waiting anymore, he strode toward her, expecting her to step back, which she did after muttering a quick and barely audible 'hello'.

He stopped at a good three feet away from her, and extended his large hand for a shake. There was an important height difference because of her 5'3 body and his 6'1 one, she seemed like a child next to him.

With a bit of hesitation, but not wanting to be rude, Theresa took it. She expected his hand to be quite large compared to hers and she was right. It was like shaking a giant's hand, his long fingers engulfing her manicured nails and almost reaching her wrist.

After a brief handshake, he apologized for the lack of professionalism he had shown by zoning out in front of his books, but she shrugged it off, apologizing instead for being late.

He chuckled and continued one "Well I also apologize for the mess, the previous Doctor retired, and I only took his place a week ago'' he started, and hung his head low while he scratched the back of his neck, suddenly finding his Richelieu's very interesting.

Truth to be told, he was only checking out the books Dr. Walters had left in his library before he retired. He had planned on taking one of the books home with him and occupy himself before he'd have to cook dinner, since his apartment was terribly empty.

He didn't even know he had any other patient before the following day, and he could have definitely used an afternoon off.

He was already exhausted and drained out of all energy because of Mrs Mueller and her unstoppable talking about how Precious ran away... He definitely understood the dog though... but he had to listen to his patients and he didn't mind psycho analyzing them and working late, as long as he did what he liked.

He liked his patients, and they had actual issues or were interesting cases even on the social plan, they were nice people he appreciated and was willing to help, but Mrs Mueller wasn't even coming because she had any kind of trouble, she just felt alone and felt like a psychiatrist - or more a person to talk to whenever she wanted- was just what she needed.
He had known her for a week now and she's been to three sessions -because Mrs paid for special time- and he was already fed up with her.