A call for empathy

I'm being followed. I've heard about stalkers, but I'd always thought they only existed in movies. This man looks like one, his height, the jacket, and the face cap, he also wore dirty sneakers. My mind kept wavering, I had no idea who he was or why he'd been following me. I was trying desperately not to panic, so I took a glance at him. He just stood there, behind the Ferris wheel, his head turning sideways looking suspicious like he was about to kidnap a ten-year-old. 

 Anyway, I wasn't going to let him scare me from having this meal I'd been craving so badly. Could he be following me because of that? A burger! I thought, does he want a burger? I don't know what could be the reason for him to be following me, and I remember first seeing him when I was just about to head into Jimmy's, but to stalk someone because of a burger sounded ridiculous to me. 

 My stomach made a rumbling sound, I immediately stuffed a big bite of the burger into my mouth, and then I devoured every bit, I pretended not to look in his direction but every fiber in me was just weary about the whole situation. 

Half an hour had passed by while I was sitting, and the figure was still standing, stealing glances at me once every five minutes. Okay, I can't stand this anymore. I muttered to myself. There's only one way to find out if he was tailing me, I rose and started walking in the other direction. I didn't look back, I walked for the next five minutes until I reached the corner of Maddison Street. I took a sharp turn to my right. I hid behind a waste container just at the corner, I wanted to confirm my suspicions, a few seconds later. That person walked up to the corner and looked around like he was chasing after someone. I was right, he had been following me all along. I waited for him to leave before I left my pose. 

He left. I walked away from there and crossed to the other side of the street. I walked around the block and tried to get back to my office. I kept walking for about two minutes. And then, I glanced over my shoulder, and he was back, still following me. I quickened my pace, a sense of unease gnawing at my nerves. The bustling streets felt unusually quiet, and an inexplicable chill ran down my spine. I could see my office building a few meters ahead, I paced as fast as I could but I didn't run, I wasn't going to start panicking since all he did was walk behind me and he was about ten meters away from me anyway. As soon as I was getting near, I darted into the other side of the road and took a turn that led into the parking lot of my office building. I glanced over my shoulder again to see if he was near but I lost him, I rushed into the elevator and the door closed behind me. 

He wasn't following me anymore, I breathed out a sigh of relief. 

I pulled out my phone, fingers trembling as I scrolled through my contacts. Who among my acquaintances would have a reason to follow me like this? Faces flashed before my eyes and each one was a potential suspect.

I walked out of the elevator as it opened, still breathing heavily, I dragged my feet across the floor trying to catch my breath. 

Sarah looked up behind her desk, her eyes widening at the disheveled state of my appearance. "Dr. Stevens, are you okay?"

Forcing a smile, I replied, "Just had a long walk." I couldn't reveal the unsettling shadow that had pursued me.

In the safety of my office, I sank into the leather couch, thoughts started racing like a detective piecing together a puzzle. Was it a patient? A disgruntled colleague? Is this how Grace felt when she said someone had been stalking her? Paranoia whispered through my mind, My phone buzzed with a text, and I jumped. 

Hi, Dr. Stevens. Hope you're doing well. Are you busy at the office right now? 

My mood lifted when the words appeared on my touch screen, it was Grace.

Not too busy at the moment. I replied 

I was about to leave the building actually, and I thought I might just stop by if you aren't busy. Is that okay? She texted again.

Sure, you can come by. I'll be in my office for the next hour.

Alright. See you shortly. The text ended.

A few minutes later, she appeared in my office, her complexion blemished along with her sense of finesse. The scent of her perfume filled the air with blissful aroma, I was wallowing in the trance her sight put me in when she called for my attention.

"Hi," she said, in a lowly voice, while she smiled. I turned in her direction, while I rested my back on the chair, sitting comfortably and composed. 

I smiled back,

"It's a bit spontaneous to see you today," I said, teasingly.

"I'm sorry, I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time," she said apologetically.

"No," I denied. "I was going to call it a day anytime soon either way. What's on your mind?" 

"Anything specific you'd like to talk about? I asked.

"Just a few things on my mind. Thank you for accommodating my unplanned visit" she said

"It's okay," I said, in an assuring manner. "So, what is it, that you'd like to talk about?" I asked

There was a pause in the moment, she hesitated before she opened up to me. I could sense the air was heavy with the weight of her unspoken thoughts. I tried to lean forward, her expression encouraging. "Take your time, Grace. Whenever you're ready."

She sighed, her gaze fixed on a spot somewhere beyond my desk. "It's just... a lot's been going on with my husband lately, and I can't seem to figure out why or what exactly I should do about it. The truth is; I've been feeling so alone, you know? Like, we're in the same house, but miles apart."

I only nodded, understanding the depth of her emotions. "Tell me more about that. What makes you feel distant?"

Tears welled up in Grace's eyes as she spoke about the infidelities that had haunted her marital status. "I recently discovered that my husband has been unfaithful, and it's tearing me apart. But even before that, the emotional distance was there. I crave his attention, his understanding, but it's like he's in his world."

I listened empathetically, guiding the conversation with care. "It sounds incredibly challenging. Have you been able to communicate these feelings with him?"

Grace shook her head. "I don't know how. It's like I'm afraid of pushing him further away. But at the same time, I can't go on like this."

I offered a reassuring smile. "Expressing your needs can be somewhat difficult, but it's crucial for healing. Let's explore ways to communicate your feelings to your husband. It's about rebuilding a connection that fulfills both of you."

We delved deeper into the intricacies of Grace's emotions, 

My office space became a haven for her to unravel the complexities of her struggles and find a path toward understanding and, ultimately, healing from them. 

I maintained a composed facade as she poured out the tangled threads of her marital struggles. Her words wove a narrative of passion, longingness, and heartache. Amid the storm of her emotions, I wrestled with my internal tempest, a struggle against the uninvited tendrils of attraction that threatened to breach my professional walls.

In the sterile hush of my office, I focused on providing guidance, suppressing the clandestine thoughts that sought to dance at the center of my consciousness. As Grace continued to share these intimate details, I redirected the conversation towards coping mechanisms and communication strategies, a deliberate effort to safeguard the therapeutic boundaries. Yet, a dangerous familiarity lurked in our exchanges, like a shared vulnerability that transcended the usual doctor-patient dynamic. I felt a magnetic pull of empathy, compassion, and an unsettling connection that sparked unbidden sparks.

In moments of silence, I grappled with the ethical tightrope, acknowledging the fine line between empathy and personal entanglement. Striving for objectivity, I probed gently into her reflections, attempting to maintain a semblance of clinical detachment. 

The clock ticked away, measuring the delicate balance between professional responsibility and the ethereal dance of emotions, while I navigated between the murky waters of therapeutic intimacy, acutely aware of the risks inherent in letting personal sentiments seep into our sessions. As the session concluded, it occurred to me to ask her about our last discussion, I wondered if she still felt like she was being watched. 

"Nothing out of the ordinary, no strange calls. Except for the fact that I often wake up in the middle of the night at times to make sure the windows are closed. I guess, I was just overreacting then, I mean, it's not like I have a stalker or something," she said with a small laugh. Then she looked at me and smiled. 

Does she intentionally do that or is it just me? I thought.

Her quiet gaze steered uncertainty into my mind, the way she smiled when she looked comfortably into my eyes, was riveting to explain. My thoughts grappled with the echoes of a connection that lingered, leaving me to confront the shadows cast by these blurred boundaries of therapeutic alliance.