Mercy leaned back in the chair and sighed, rubbed her gritty eyes. She looked at the others in the group. They all looked alert and pleased to be there. Most mental health professionals usually had to fight to get supervision; Mercy was forced to attend.
She used to enjoy these meetings. Conducted by clinical psychologist Dr Noah Griffen, they were attended by two psychiatrists, a psych registrar, another psychologist, and Mercy. Each member of the group discussed their progress in therapy for the week, and one person brought a more detailed case for group discussion. The group members offered suggestions for difficult patients. Also encouraged was insight into personal feelings, and reactions the clinicians might be experiencing in therapy with their clients. Members were expected to bring to the group their feelings of frustration, anger, sadness, even lust, elicited during treatment sessions. Most of the therapists taped their sessions and each week an excerpt of a session was played to the members, who dissected its content. Mercy had learned lessons of great value in past groups.
Today, she tried to hide. She shifted in her seat, pulling her suit jacket down over her bulging stomach. Under the cover of her jacket, she popped the button on the fly of her pants, and a roll of fat eased out. God, that felt better. Worry about her ever-increasing weight rose from the swamp of her consciousness, but she forced the thoughts back below the surface. Blocking such mundane concerns grew easier every day.
She became aware of the woman next to her nudging Mercy's foot with her own, trying to attract her attention.
'Dr Merris. Mercy.' Noah Griffen was staring at her expectantly. 'Do you have your presentation ready?'
Mercy nodded and handed around the single-page summary of the case she'd brought for discussion today. She presented the case with her head down. She'd deliberately chosen one of her few non sex-abuse cases. She gave intelligible responses to the comments and questions and stood to leave as soon as the session started to wrap up.
She was first at the door when she heard her name called.
Noah was waiting for her. She took a step back into his room; he waited until the last of the group members had said their goodbyes.
'Coffee, Mercy?' he asked.
'I've got a lot on, Noah.' She talked to the carpet.
'Are you okay?'
She looked up into his face and quickly down again. She felt short and frumpy next to her colleague; his hair was slightly greying, but his face nevertheless shone with health, tanned from weekly triathlon training in the sun.
Mercy now wondered what it was she'd previously found so irresistible about him. When he'd first asked her out some years ago she'd been ecstatic, certain they were destined to be together. But after two of the best evenings out that she could remember, they'd booked a harbourfront room at the Hyatt Hotel in Sydney. Mercy had been lighter then, her curves dangerous. She'd spent the day before the rendezvous in the city, having a massage and splurging three hundred dollars on black La Perla underwear. Squeezing her scented body into the teddy in the change room, she knew she looked hot.
Dinner in the suite had been exquisite. The harbour was magical; they'd shared a bottle of French champagne. Perfect. Everything. And then he couldn't. Nothing. Not even the hope of an erection. Mercy lied and told him it had happened to lots of guys she'd been with.
Maybe her feelings for him wouldn't have changed had he not become so strangely silent. He would not speak; his body seemed to almost vibrate with rage. While offering more reassurance to his closed, expressionless form, she had a sudden image of him striking her and she recoiled.
The affair had died then and there.
Atypically, Mercy had managed to remain cordial with a former lover, and they'd continued and then developed their professional relationship without ever again mentioning the Hyatt.
'Yeah, I'm fine, Noah.' She pulled her jacket over her open waistband and tried to keep her voice neutral. 'I just don't want to spend my whole life at work, that's all. I'll see you tomorrow.'
'Remember that we have an individual session in the afternoon.'
How could she forget? She avoided eye contact and left the room. She went to the hospital's nearest exit and lit a cigarette as soon as she hit the outside air. It was critical that she keep people out of her head, especially him.