GAH...Peer pressure got to me. *hangs head in shame* I'm surprised I'm not in some gang or something...if I can't even say no online.
Anyway
Chapter 1:
Denise slipped off the sunglasses and cap as she walked into the office. This was humiliating, having to hide herself because she was afraid her family’s dysfunction would leak to the press. Thankfully, the office lobby seemed to be deserted, save the receptionist.
“Excuse me?” Denise walked up to the counter. “Katie?” She read the girl’s name tag.
“Yes ma’am.” She gave Denise a big smile. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Um, no, I don’t. But I was hoping to schedule one. Well, several. But not for me.” She sighed in frustration, unable to convey exactly what she wanted to say.
“I don’t understand. Would you like to speak to one of our counselors?” Denise nodded. Katie picked up her office phone and dialed three numbers. “Abbey, could you come out here please?” A moment later, Katie hung up the phone. “She’ll be right out. Why don’t you have a seat ‘til she gets here?”
“Umm, ok.” Katie smiled, and returned to her paperwork. Denise quickly sat in the closest chair. She was nervous, and the magazines around the room only served to increase her agitation. She saw her sons’ face covering at least five different magazines. How was this doctor going to react when she learned she’d be seeing the same boys whose pictures graced her lobby?
“Ok, Katie, what’s going on?” A fairly young woman stepped out from the back, into the lobby. That might be a problem.
“Um, Mrs. Umm…”
“Denise Jonas.” Denise spoke up.
“Hello, Mrs. Jonas. I’m Abbey Stewart.” Abbey circled around towards Denise and extended her hand. Denise shook it, feeling slightly more at ease.
“Mrs. Jonas wants to speak with you about scheduling.”
“Ok, well, why don’t we speak in my office?” Denise nodded and followed Abbey back behind the front desk, down a hall, and into one of four rooms.
“Why do you have so many rooms?”
“I’m not the only therapist in this building, Mrs. Jonas.” Abbey gestured to a small sofa. “Please, have a seat, Mrs. Jonas.” Denise did, just as Abbey shut the door. “Now, what can I help you with?”
“I—I’m not sure. Are you familiar with the Jonas Brothers?”
“The pop band? Sure, I’ve heard of them. I take it you’re somehow related to them?”
“What would make you think that?” Denise asked, alarmed.
“Well, your last name is ‘Jonas’ correct?”
“Right. Well, I’m their mother. And…well, can I be honest with you?” Abbey nodded. “I’m afraid this will eventually leak out to the media.”
“Mrs. Jonas, nothing that goes on in this room, leaves this room. Same thing goes for every other office here. I don’t discuss my patients with anyone. And, you have the right to take legal action against any doctor who did.”
“I just…my sons…and my husband…it’s just…it’s getting too overwhelming.”
“Would you like to talk about it?” Denise shook her head, hoping that somehow, the message she wanted to communicate would come out of her mouth.
“They need counseling. WE need counseling. All of us. But my oldest three sons in particular. Right now, they’re on a break from touring, filming their television show, and all they do is fight. If they’re not fighting, they’re not speaking at all. And they’ve begun dragging my baby and my husband into it. I can’t keep playing referee.” Denise took a deep breath, both happy, and horrified that she’d said all that.
“Well, counseling can be a very effective tool in solving anger issues. Would you want separate counselors for each of your sons?”
“The less people that know about it, the less chance there is of it slipping out.”
“Are you comfortable with me handling their sessions then?”
“How old are you?”
“I’m 27. But believe me, my teeny-bopper days were with *N Sync and 2gether.”
“Well, I guess that works.”
“Does your family know you’re here, scheduling them all therapy sessions?” Abbey asked, never letting her smile falter.
“No.” Denise looked down and began to toy with the zipper of her jacket.
“Well, how about if I come and observe everyone for a while? Then, depending on the circumstances, we’ll figure out what to do from there.” Abbey’s heart ached for the woman sitting on her floral sofa, but she knew that there were issues Denise would have to face as well.
“Sure. You want to come by the house or work?”
“Which would be better for you?”
“Work, probably. At least there, they have to be a bit more social. I can’t seem to get them to come out of their rooms at all when we’re all at home.”
“Alright then. I can come by their work Monday, and assess the situation.”
“You’ll need a pass to get on set.” Denise said. Abbey gave her a quizzical look, which prompted her to continue. “Oh, right. I will just leave your name with the guards, and they can give you a pass.”
“Ok, Mrs. Jonas.” Finally, a small smile found its way to Denise’s lips. “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”
“No, that’s all.” Both women stood. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem. See you Monday.”
