"...And doesn't that make you feel small? Belitteled?"
Angela Chesterton ponders this question, before shaking her head. "No... well, yes. It does. But I've realized something. When Chet talks to me like that, it's because HE is small, not because I am. It's his insecurities that make him bitter and angry, not anything I have done, or who I am."
Dr. Green frowns, tapping her pen on her notepad in frustration. "But surely you are not blameless. It takes two to tango, after all."
The patient glances up from the drawing pad in front of her. "I'm not blameless. Who truly is? We all have some things we wish we hadn't done, or that we could change. I'm going to focus on being a better me, though. And that means being the best person I could be - and if that makes me a better wife, more understanding, then so be it. But I'm doing it for myself."
Angela takes her pencil and adds a few swipes to the canvas, then sets it aside. "I think I'm about done for today."
"But we haven't completed your session. There is still 15 minutes left-"
"Oh, I know. I won't ask for a refund or anything." Angela says with a smile. "It's just... it's so nice out today. I'm going to take a walk by the pond and enjoy the fresh air." Gathering up her jacket and purse. "Oh, and you needn't schedule me for next week... I think, I'll... think about it, and call you."
Dr. Green scowls. "I have to say that this is against my better judgement. Your anxiety may relapse, and you know I cannot prescibe anything if you are no longer my active patient. It is my professional opinion-"
Angela shakes her head. "Dr. Greene, I respect your advice, but in my opinion, its time for me to have my own opinion. You have a lovely afternoon." And she walks out the door.
Alone in her office, Calanthe throws her notepad against the wall. It falls to the floor, showing that her 'notes' were really just impatient scribbles. She grabs the sketchpad, turning it, and then slaps it to the floor, storming out.
The page drifts free, and lands on the floor. The simple pencil sketch is of an acorn sprouting, and just starting to unfurl the first delicate leaves. A sign of spring.