*sigh* So okay. Audience demands an encore. By making this a one shot, I hoped to hide the fact that I don't know anything about piano music. I did a lot of research today (for example, asking my innocent medicine studying friend about people with paralysis having sex - she currently learns for an exam and said it was a perfect practice for her to have a new patient called Helena G. Wells), Aimofdestiny currently overwhelms me with her knowledge about pianists. Let's do this
Thanks again to the-social-recluse for reading over this.
Myka sighed into her earphone. She lied on the floor of her living room, in her pyjamas, her feet on her couch. A book rested on her chest and a package of Twizzlers lied open next to her face. The therapist remembered that yesterday evening, she had taken place on the couch to read. She had no idea how she had ended up here, but she knew that she was shifting her own body a lot while reading and probably, she had fallen asleep in this position. The outcome was a sore back and also a sore throat because the night had been cold. The telephone's ringing noise had woken her up and Myka had taken the call, completely confused and half asleep. Who called her on an early sunday morning?
"Bering?" She said with a muffled voice and sat up from her lying position.
"Myka..." The haggard voice of Helena Wells' personal assistant emerged from the phone. Myka could tell from the reverberation that Leena had her on loudspeaker.
"Oh come on, Leena, you gotta be kidding me! Again?" The brunette sighed. "I thought we had a great start! The first interview was good. She can't continue her game."
The assistant cleared her throat. Myka heard a voice whispering in the background but she couldn't tell to whom it belonged.
"What's her excuse this time? Baseball? Oh wait, that's not posh enough. Well, at least she made you call me before our appointment." The therapist went on and started stretching her neck.
"No, this isn't like the last time." Leena declared. There was a brief pause. "She told me to cancel your appointment completely instead of delaying it."
Myka stopped her motion. "Cancelling our session? I fear I don't understand..."
"She says she doesn't see herself working with you." The assistant explained and Myka coughed in surprise.
"She can't work with me? But our first interview was good." The therapist shook her head. She had never been really able to handle rejection very well. "I mean... okay. I can accept this, I mean, the patient has to decide if they can work with their therapist or not."
"I'm so sorry, Myk-" Leena suddenly gasped in pain.
"Is everything alright?" Myka asked.
"Well, I think..." The other woman said with a sudden greater emphasis. "That she's maybe just rejecting you as a part of her anxiety and she needs you to..." There was a brief pause. Myka again heard someone else whispering.
"To... tell her that working with you can really help her out of her misery."
Deeply in thought, Myka stared at her briefcase on the other side of the living room. "You mean it could help if I run into her office again and show her how serious I am."
Two relieved gasps emerged from the phone, one of them muffled. When Leena spoke, she seemed excited. "Exactly, Myka. I think, this would be perfect if you show up to your appointment and tell her how serious you are about working with her."
"Leena, who is the other person on the phone and do they know that Miss Wells would probably kill you two if she knew that you're trying to decide over her therapy behind her back?" Myka asked bluntly.
The other voice sighed. "Duuuude..."
"There is no other person around here." Leena spoke.
"Of course."
"And furthermore I'm Miss Wells' personal assistant. My job is to help her in situations she wouldn't be able to handle herself because of her conditions. I do believe that her depression is part of this condition." The assistant explained now more easily.
"Of course you do."
"Yes, and this is why I think you should show up regularly to your appointment and tell her how much she needs you." There was again a whisper.
"I mean, how much she needs therapy with you."
Myka sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She took the glasses off she still wore from yesterday evening's reading session. "If you really think this is a good idea, Leena, I will do it. But I do hope you and this mysterious person standing next to you know what you're up to."
The other voice now spoke. It was female and excited. "Of course we are, Miss Bering. H.G. really needs you to be here to your regular appointment."
"Who am I talking to?"
"Uhm, Claudia Donovan, Miss Bering." Was the answer.
"The lead guitarist of 'The Artifacts'?" Myka was surprised.
"Oh, you do know my band, Miss Bering! I like you! Leena, I like her."
The therapist sighed. "Okay, if you two think it's a good idea, I will visit Miss Wells on Friday."
Both women on the other side of the phone cheered.
Leena hung up the phone and looked directly at Claudia. "If you poke me ever again with your elbow, I will drop H.G.'s tea kettle on your crotch. After I poured the hot tea onto it."
Claudia looked at her in horror. "Leena, I think we have to worry about other things."
"Hm?"
"Well, if H.G. is not going to kill us after the happenings on Friday, I'm pretty sure this smartass therapist will do it." She sighed. "And I told her my name!"
"Seriously?" The portier asked while opening the lift for Myka. "But two? I know Miss Wells is rich, but this is almost ridiculous."
The therapist scrunched her nose. "What are you talking about?"
He gazed at her and shrugged. "Nothing important, I'm not here to judge her."
Myka was still confused when the lift had reached Helena Wells' apartment and Leena greeted her with a worried face, her hands shaking nervously.
"Leena, are you alright?" Myka asked.
"Me? Yes, I'm alright, everything is alright. No worries. We can do this." The assistant's voice trembled.
"Miss Donovan knows that after Miss Wells killed you both you are going to kill her, too?" The therapist chuckled and Leena nodded.
Myka placed her briefcase under her elbow and looked at the doors of Miss Wells' office. "Is she in her office or in the living room?"
"The- She's in the office."
"Well, to the office then!" Myka smiled nervously, mimicking the pianist's expression from last week.
The office doors flew open and the therapist stepped in, addressing the office desk. "Miss Wells, I think we have 3 pm appointment and I will not accept you rejecting me. You seriously need he-" She stopped, noticing the short haired blond man behind Helena Wells' office desk. "Who are you?"
"Miss Bering!" The British accented voice yelled from the couch to her right. With the help of her own elbows Helena Wells lifted herself up from her lying position, looking shocked. "What are you doing here? I told Leena to cancel our appointment!" She grabbed to her right and pulled her wheelchair closer to lift herself into it.
"I didn't want to... I mean... Who is this?" Myka still looked flabbergasted at the guy behind the composer's desk, who stood up, smiling shyly.
"This, Miss Bering, is my new therapist Mr. Jinks. We had our first interview on Monday and now we have our first real therapy session, which I rather hoped not to be interrupted." The Brit turned her wheelchair and looked at Leena, who stood in the door behind Myka looking to the ground, her gaze filled with worries. "Leena, what is going on?" The composer's tone of voice showed clearly that she was utterly furious.
Mr. Jinks had walked over to Myka and raised his right hand in front of her. "Dr. Steven Jinks, nice to meet you."
The brunette took his hand, her face still showing the same confused expression. "Dr. Myka Bering."
Miss Wells groaned. "Are we making this about academic titles now? I have a PhD in music theory and a diploma in tap dance and they are both pretty useless!" Mr. Jinks looked at Myka, shook his head and mouthed 'Lie.'
The Brit again addressed her personal assistant. "Leena! I told you to tell Miss Bering I don't want to see her anymore."
Myka felt a sting in her chest at these words and and at Miss Wells aggressive tone of voice. She stepped back from the other therapist and his patient. "Of course. There was a misunderstanding with your assistant, Miss Wells. Everything is alright. I'm a little embarrassed, but I can handle it." She turned around to leave the apartment. Her eyes met Leena's. The assistant swallowed hardly as she became aware of the tears in the therapist's eyes.
Myka shook her head. She had expected that she had to fight, but this was just humiliating.
Helena Wells was weeks into therapy and utterly frustrated. Mr. Jinks steadily told her there was progress in this, but she didn't see it. Charles was similarly frustrated, but they didn't talk about this. After staring for an hour at the grande piano in her office this morning, HG had told Leena -who still didn't dare to fully look into her eyes, she was too ashamed of Miss Bering's humilation- to call Claudia and Artie. Arthur Nielsen was the composer's first piano teacher and knew her since she was a little child. He was still a good friend of the family and better: he used to come over to be HG's drinking mate if called. And this was what the three of them had been doing the whole afternoon and evening: Drinking Helena Wells' frustration away. She didn't see her progress in therapy, she still hadn't touched a piano, her friends had frightened that interesting woman away who had stepped into her life. And of course the pianist couldn't call Myka Bering because something inside herself was holding her back.
At some point Charles had joined their private party, but after four glasses of scotch he had fallen asleep on the couch, the whisky bottle embraced in his arms.
A mixtape of Claudia's favourite pop music was playing, however the pianist ignored her own distaste in it and rolled her wheelchair slightly up and down to the beat of the music. Her filled scotch glass was currently resting on top of her head, dangerously swaying. Helena called it 'an experiment in structural engineering calculation'. Claudia had commented on it gleefully and Leena could only hardly hold the redhead back from calling Scientific American to announce this experiment. The personal assistant was the only sober person in the apartment. She had made attempt to clear all the empty glasses in the living room, but there were too many. So she had given up on this task and had started playing chaperone instead.
Artie raised up from the couch. "I know this song." He slurred and walked over to the living room's piano. After a few seconds of plunking, his inebriated mind actually found the right keys to follow the music from the loudspeakers.
Helena spun her wheelchair and rolled quickly into his direction. The scotch glass fell down from her head and shattered on the ground. "Somebody touches a piano in my apartment." She squealed excitedly. "It's a good thing Leena lets them steadily being pitched. I do believe if Charles was conscious he would need new pants."
Leena cleared her throat. "H.G., your glass."
"Oh, right." The pianist reached up to her head and grabbed empty space. "Where is it?"
"On the ground, broken." Claudia stated with a fading tone of voice while Leena stood up from her chair to get towels, brooms and shovel.
She handed the big broom to her boss and the shovel with the small broom to Claudia. "If you can drink you can also tidy up." The assistant said and crouched to dry the golden liquid on the ground.
When she stood up, the pianist positioned her wheelchair next to the shards and started sweeping the broom. "So broken." She commented her motion.
"Yeah, H.G., it's just a glass. No reason to get emotional over it." Claudia said when she bend down to sweep up the shards.
"My dear friend, I'm not getting emotional over a broken glass of scotch here. I'm obviously frustrated about my current condition." The composer replied.
Claudia swayingly walked out of the living room into the kitchen to bring the shards to the trash. Leena took the broom from her boss's hands and watched the woman turning around to move to the unconscious Artie at the piano.
"I have the feeling this is now my biggest enemy. It was once my best friend and now when I look at it I hate it." Helena reached out her right hand. Her index finger quickly tipped on a high C. The sound of the played note emerged into the living room. Charles groaned on the couch and nuzzled into the whisky bottle.
"The bible says..." HG slurred and pointed at Leena. "You have to love your enemies." Her assistant was impressed by the pianist's drunken philosophy but she had problems following her thoughts.
Claudia walked in again and positioned herself next to Leena.
"You two were complete idiots trying to set me up with Miss Bering during my appointment with Mr. Jinks." The composer declared indignantly.
"H.G. we didn't know you had your appointment then, we just thought if she walks into your office the same way like the first time you could actually realise how much you like her." Leena explained the redhead's and her own intentions.
"To do what?" The Brit asked. "To invite her into a fancy restaurant for a date? I have problems leaving my flat, remember?"
"You could invite her and cook. You're a great cook, H.G." Leena replied with a shrug.
"Yes, H.G. your chicken madras is rad!" Claudia agreed.
"No." Helena stated and moved her wheelchair quickly towards the living room door. "We will do this differently. Leena, I need a jacket."
The redhead and the assistant looked at each other in surprise. After a few seconds of non-verbal communication, Leena shrugged and walked towards the master bed room to get the demanded piece of clothing.
As she came back, her boss had positioned herself in front of the lift doors, staring at them like she was preparing for a big fight. The guitarist stood behind her, her hands casually buried in her pockets, face confused, but attentive.
"So, what are we up to?" The redhead asked. "You can't visit Miss Bering now, it's the middle of the night and you're drunk as hell."
"I know!" Her friend said with emphasis. "I want to visit the park."
"The park?" Leena asked while handing the jacket over. "In the middle of the night?"
"The current time is perfect, because nobody will actually see me!" Helena explained. "Silly girls, I would rather prefer you not questioning my intentions so I don't have a chance to change my mind."
Claudia held up her hands. "Okay, okay. I shut my mouth."
As the lift reached the lobby, the composer made no move to leave it. Claudia and Leena exchanged an unsettled look, but then H.G. grabbed the wheels of her chair and slowly rolled out of the lift. Without hesitation, she reached the automatic doors of the apartment tower and passed them. The night portier behind the reception stared at Leena and Claudia and raised both eyebrows. They shrugged. "Miss Wells wants to catch some air." The redhead explained and Leena nodded.
"I see that. I just didn't know she actually existed." He replied.
"Are you coming?" Helena yelled back at them. "I refuse to go into the park alone."
A week later on and early Monday morning, Myka parked her car in front of her doctor's office. She congratulated herself for the great positioned parking lot and stopped the engine. With a quick move, she left the car and opened her trunk to get her guitar out of it.
"A new instrument?" A female voice with a British accent said. Myka spun on her heels to find the owner of the voice on the sidewalk. Helena Wells wore black sunglasses and a long, dark grey coat. She casually leaned back in her wheelchair, a coffee holder placed in her lap. Myka realised how good the woman in front of her actually looked.
"Do you appreciate a coffee? From our first interview I know you like it black." The pianist pointed at the paper cups. The therapist stared at her in surprise and allowed her view to wander over their surroundings. She spotted Leena next to a black limousine. The personal assistant flashed a shy smile back at them.
"You made all the way from uptown to my office to bring me a coffee?" Myka asked. The Brit smiled in response. "Yes, isn't it wonderful? I also have milk and sugar, if you want to use it. Oh, and I have this extremely disgusting drink with artificial bubbles in it, too. Claudia told me by being isolated in my flat for about two and a half years I missed the perks of bubble tea, but I'm certain I shouldn't trust her taste in beverages anymore." HG's gloved hand picked up a cup from the holder and made attempt to hand it over to Myka. The curly-haired woman was still confused but took the cup with the hot liquid in it. "See it as an apology for my rather stubborn behaviour when you interrupted my session with Mr. Jinks. I know you weren't informed about my work with him." The composer explained, staring at the cups in her lap.
Myka swallowed. She was surprised about the pianist's progression. If Helena Wells really hadn't left her apartment for two and a half years, this was almost a wonder. Dr. Jinks was doing perfect work and Myka didn't want to frighten the woman back into her social isolation, so she decided to be nice. "Uhm.., well, okay, I guess. Thank you for the coffee. Apology accepted." She smiled shyly, shrugged and took a sip from the coffee.
"So is this a new guitar?" Helena asked and pointed at Myka's guitar case. The therapist looked down and smiled. "This? No this is one of my old ones. I just carry it with me for home visits."
"You do make home visits besides mine? Oh, I have to admit I'm jealous." The pianist smirked. The American tilted her head. "Miss Wells-"
"Please, darling, call me Helena." The Brit interrupted her. "Please. I don't want our relationship to stay on a professional basis."
"Yeah, I kinda guessed that since you have a new therapist, but what are you up to? Do you want to become friends with me? I'm just a-" Helena interrupted her again.
"No, Miss Bering- "
"Myka."
The pianist smiled softly and nodded. "Myka. Becoming friends with you isn't any of my intentions."
Myka's cup hovered in front of her lips. "But what-" The Brit turned her wheelchair on the sidewalk. "It was a pleasure to see you, Myka. I do hope you enjoy your coffee."
With this, she moved away, back to her assistant and their limousine, leaving the therapist alone and completely confused.
