claiming it’s my first day and I’m keen to get
everything right. But really, I don’t want to leave her there. It’s
obvious she works too hard as it is.
At half past five, Grace shows
me how to clean the machines, and I watch over her shoulder. She’s
standing closer to me than this morning, and I hope she’s grown
more comfortable with me being there.
Lisa turns the open sign to
closed. ‘I can’t believe it’s my last day tomorrow.’ Her mouth
turns down at the edges.
Grace looks up at her with
warmth, and I want her to look at me like that.
‘Me, too.’ Grace pouts, but it
looks cute on her. ‘I might have a surprise for you, though.’
‘Ooh, goody. I love surprises!’
Lisa winks. ‘Don’t forget to lock up after me.’ She waves and shuts
the door.
‘So, how was your first day?’
Grace packs up what’s left of the food under the counter. She
smiles, but it’s forced.
‘Yeah, good, thanks. You’re a
patient teacher.’ I take off my apron and fold it.
‘You were right. You are a quick
learner.’
‘What happens to the food?’
‘I take it to the homeless
shelter.’
‘I’m sure they appreciate
that.’
She shrugs as if it’s nothing.
‘Every little helps, right?’
I lean on the counter and watch
her work. Her movements are deliberate, smooth, like she’s in
control. Only the tiny tremor in her fingers gives her away.
‘Um…’ She puts the box of food
on the counter. She stares down at the floor for a second, as if
trying to build up to something.
‘Are you OK? Did you have
another panic attack?’
She looks up. Nods.
‘Did you do the breathing?’
‘Yes. It was good. I actually
had the best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.’
‘Good. Glad I could help.’
She glances around the room, her
gaze stopping on the coffee machine to my right.
‘Do you want to talk about
them?’
She finally looks at me then.
‘How does counselling work?’ Her tone is interested but
cautious.
I think about this for a moment.
‘Counselling is a way to help someone heal by thinking and feeling
differently about their situation. It’s a way to create new
memories and new responses that don’t harm you anymore and make you
stronger.’
‘And how do you think
differently?’
‘By talking things out. By doing
exercises that can help people see things in a different way. There
are lots of things you can try.’
‘Does it always work?’
I wish I had a simple answer,
but it’s different for everyone. ‘No,’ I say, honestly. ‘It’s like
anything in life. You have to want it to work, and you have
to put a bit of effort in. But the first step is realizing you want
or need help. Asking for help doesn’t mean you’re weak or
worthless. It means you’ve got the courage to recognize you have a
problem that you can’t always fix on your own. People try to run
away from things without dealing with them, which leads to other
problems. And you can’t run away from what’s in your own head.’ I
give her what is hopefully a reassuring smile. ‘But I can promise
you that if you talk, it will help. If you don’t talk, it’s like a
toxic wound festering away inside you that never heals. What you
keep inside continues to hurt you.’
She chews her lower lip as
though she’s weighing up my words. An internal battle of emotions
rages over her face, as if she’s on the edge of a decision and
doesn’t know which way to go.
‘Do you think you need to talk
to a counsellor?’ I ask.
‘Yes,’ she whispers so quietly I
can barely hear it. Then she looks up at me with watery green eyes.
‘Would you be able to help me, because I think I’m going mad?’
It makes me want to slip my arms
round her and hold on tight. I fight the urge by resting my hands
on the counter. ‘You’re not going mad. Something traumatic happened
to you, and you’re trying to deal with it. That’s why you’re having
the panic attacks. It doesn’t make you mad, it makes you
human.’
She bites
everything right. But really, I don’t want to leave her there. It’s
obvious she works too hard as it is.
At half past five, Grace shows
me how to clean the machines, and I watch over her shoulder. She’s
standing closer to me than this morning, and I hope she’s grown
more comfortable with me being there.
Lisa turns the open sign to
closed. ‘I can’t believe it’s my last day tomorrow.’ Her mouth
turns down at the edges.
Grace looks up at her with
warmth, and I want her to look at me like that.
‘Me, too.’ Grace pouts, but it
looks cute on her. ‘I might have a surprise for you, though.’
‘Ooh, goody. I love surprises!’
Lisa winks. ‘Don’t forget to lock up after me.’ She waves and shuts
the door.
‘So, how was your first day?’
Grace packs up what’s left of the food under the counter. She
smiles, but it’s forced.
‘Yeah, good, thanks. You’re a
patient teacher.’ I take off my apron and fold it.
‘You were right. You are a quick
learner.’
‘What happens to the food?’
‘I take it to the homeless
shelter.’
‘I’m sure they appreciate
that.’
She shrugs as if it’s nothing.
‘Every little helps, right?’
I lean on the counter and watch
her work. Her movements are deliberate, smooth, like she’s in
control. Only the tiny tremor in her fingers gives her away.
‘Um…’ She puts the box of food
on the counter. She stares down at the floor for a second, as if
trying to build up to something.
‘Are you OK? Did you have
another panic attack?’
She looks up. Nods.
‘Did you do the breathing?’
‘Yes. It was good. I actually
had the best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.’
‘Good. Glad I could help.’
She glances around the room, her
gaze stopping on the coffee machine to my right.
‘Do you want to talk about
them?’
She finally looks at me then.
‘How does counselling work?’ Her tone is interested but
cautious.
I think about this for a moment.
‘Counselling is a way to help someone heal by thinking and feeling
differently about their situation. It’s a way to create new
memories and new responses that don’t harm you anymore and make you
stronger.’
‘And how do you think
differently?’
‘By talking things out. By doing
exercises that can help people see things in a different way. There
are lots of things you can try.’
‘Does it always work?’
I wish I had a simple answer,
but it’s different for everyone. ‘No,’ I say, honestly. ‘It’s like
anything in life. You have to want it to work, and you have
to put a bit of effort in. But the first step is realizing you want
or need help. Asking for help doesn’t mean you’re weak or
worthless. It means you’ve got the courage to recognize you have a
problem that you can’t always fix on your own. People try to run
away from things without dealing with them, which leads to other
problems. And you can’t run away from what’s in your own head.’ I
give her what is hopefully a reassuring smile. ‘But I can promise
you that if you talk, it will help. If you don’t talk, it’s like a
toxic wound festering away inside you that never heals. What you
keep inside continues to hurt you.’
She chews her lower lip as
though she’s weighing up my words. An internal battle of emotions
rages over her face, as if she’s on the edge of a decision and
doesn’t know which way to go.
‘Do you think you need to talk
to a counsellor?’ I ask.
‘Yes,’ she whispers so quietly I
can barely hear it. Then she looks up at me with watery green eyes.
‘Would you be able to help me, because I think I’m going mad?’
It makes me want to slip my arms
round her and hold on tight. I fight the urge by resting my hands
on the counter. ‘You’re not going mad. Something traumatic happened
to you, and you’re trying to deal with it. That’s why you’re having
the panic attacks. It doesn’t make you mad, it makes you
human.’
She bites
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