Demons on her Shoulder

Chapter 2

Chapter 2The clamour of irrepressible sobbing erupted without warning. Jayden kept her demure face neutral as the overweight client in front of her crumpled into the swollen armchair like a deflated airbed. The tissues sat a fraction to the left of her seat, just within reach. A jug of iced water created a ring of condensation on the coffee table next to three robust looking glasses.

Jayden kept still, determined not to halt the spell. It took weeks to achieve a mood of resolution and she doubted her own effectiveness as a mediator. Her mind wandered back over long, frustrating hours of pushing the knotty issue round and around in a giant, self-defeating circle. She released the sigh under her breath and waited for the discourse to go exactly nowhere. Demons sat on the large woman’s shoulder, unseen but there; their aura of hopelessness powerful in the silent room. Grief. Bitterness. Rejection. Sinking in their claws, they patted her neck with filthy, clammy hands.

Jayden knew them well. They plagued her dreams, returning in the quiet moments to illuminate her failings and highlight the deceit which surrounded her life. She wrestled them off, binding their influence but knowing they returned when she grew distracted or complacent. Their relentlessness would force her to begin the process again. Sometimes remembered pain made her forget to close the doors of her heart and the demons took up lodging, making a mess like unwanted house guests with no leaving date.

The box of tissues slid towards the leaking woman with deliberate slowness. It picked up momentum as sobbing wracked her body like a detonation. Pandora’s Box flipped open, sending the woman out of control. Her whole frame shook and wobbled in the chair like an oversize pink blancmange and Jayden feared her client might pitch out of its depths and onto the floor. The tissues reached the end of the table and became visible as she swiped the back of her hand across her sticky nose, though she ignored the finger pushing them closer. Jayden watched her with detached interest.

Desperation oozed from every pore as the woman’s brokenness became visible in all its cancerous horror. The transformation looked painful and tragic to watch, but well overdue. With shaking, manicured hands, the poor wife reached out and snatched the uppermost tissue and realising it wasn’t enough, made a swift grab for another five.

Liquid poured from every facial orifice, a year’s worth of poisonous anguish leaking from the blonde woman’s pain-encrusted soul. From the matching chair next to her, a hairy hand reached for the water jug and poured a halting stream of icy refreshment into a clean glass. A tremor in the stubby fingers made the water slosh as he held it up to his companion’s face, his own expression filled with fear. Guilt fluttered around his head, landing and taking off into the tense atmosphere.

The crying ceased with such abruptness, Jayden stiffened. The woman turned her face to the left, snot and tears a dirty waterfall on her cheeks. It spread mascara and foundation wherever it touched. Her movements appeared in slow motion and the man should have seen it coming. He should have seen a lot of things coming but didn’t. The woman grasped the glass in her wet fingers and Jayden’s eyes widened as she read the unveiled emotion in her puffy face. Too late. Water cascaded into the man’s eyes, moving through the air in a graceful arc first. The glass thudded into his forehead. It didn’t smash, but fell to the thick maroon carpet with a muted thump. Emboldened, the woman launched herself, pounding his head, neck, chest and face. She dodged his outstretched arms like a flyweight boxer.

Jayden exhaled and rose in a fluid movement. Her lips parted with a ready rebuke, but the room contained no other weapons and it no longer mattered. Sobbing, the woman slumped over the man, pinning him to the chair. He stretched his arms around her wide frame and patted her back as though he parented a child. Without making a sound, Jayden exited the room leaving the door ajar. She walked to the kitchenette behind the reception desk and collected the paraphernalia for hot drinks.

“Good session?” the receptionist asked, running cool water into a glass and taking a sip. She turned to Jayden with expectancy in her eyes.

“Kind of.” Jayden bashed the tea bags around inside the pot with a teaspoon, avoiding the scalding hot water. With her other hand she reached for a milk jug, spoons and sugar bowl. “Cam and I planned a joint session for this couple. It’s taken weeks to get them to this moment and the poor husband had no support.”

“That’s the vicar’s fault,” the receptionist said, lowing her voice. “He knows you need two counsellors for restorative couples’ counselling. Yet he still forced Cam to see that other family who turned up unannounced.”

Jayden nodded and hefted the tray. Tea cups tinkled as they touched. “It can’t go on,” she murmured. Pausing, she listened for sounds of more violence but heard none. She frowned. “I’ll leave my office door ajar. Please can you listen out for me? I might need to shout for help.”

“Really?” The receptionist’s eyes widened. Then she nodded. “The vicar doesn’t care who else he puts at risk, does he? I’ll listen out for you.”

“Thanks.” Jayden gave her a tight smile. “The worst is over and we won’t discuss anything quite so sensitive today.”

She set off back to her office, wishing she’d had the benefit of her colleague’s gentle wisdom during the session. She vowed in future to wait or cancel, instead of forging on alone. The single question had rocked the couple’s world.

“Are you ready to tell your husband how his affair made you feel?”