GROUP THERAPY

‘Why don’t you make ‘er say somethin’ for a change. Stuck up cow. We’re all ‘ere for the same reason yer know. Our 'eads are fucked.’
Maggie raised her empty brown eyes towards the voice that had callously returned her to the group. Her long hazel hair screened her freckled face from those sat each side of her. She tried to switch her mind back to ‘standby’ but it was too late, Jessie had pressed the ‘on’ button.
‘Yeh, you, miss too good to be ‘ere, bet you think yer …’
‘Jessie, perhaps you would like to tell us why Maggie’s silence is so difficult for you’ interrupted Sue.
‘And perhaps I wouldn’t too. I just don’t see why she can be ‘ere and say nothin’ when you said we all have to try and voice our feelin’s. Well, I’m voicin’ mine, she’s fuckin’ me off.’
Squeezing her hands between clenched thighs, Maggie desperately tried to control the urge to rock her body back and forth, a security comfort she had used since childhood. Concentrating on rocking had helped her distance herself from her fears, given her a minute sense of control. But now, in this circle of strangers, it would reveal her insecurities more than give her comfort.
‘She’s only been here a couple of weeks Jessie, give her a break’ whispered Janey cautiously.
‘Just don’t, eh. We all sit round here like fuckin’ numbers on a clock waitin’ for the hand to touch us, waitin’ for each other to spew out our sordid little pasts, so Sue ‘ere can feel a great sense of satisfaction because she got one of us to ‘open up’. Well, you all know I’m a fuckin cokehead, that my dad had more sex with me than my fuckin mum and we all know that sweet little Janey here conveniently forgot to feed her kid so they took it away from her. So come on then, out with it, what’s so special about ‘er fuckin problem that she thinks it’s worth keeping secret.’ replied Jessie.

Maggie pinched hard through her light denim jeans into the flesh of her skinny thighs. But this physical scream was not loud enough to drown the conversation taking place around her. How could she tell these people that she was here because she had no guts. She couldn’t even let go of the bridge railings. The memory of her mother in law’s recent words hammered around Maggie’s head, beating them securely into every corner of her brain ‘She will drag you down Rob, you deserve so much more.’ On Rob’s last visit he had bought her a Gucci silver bracelet watch. Another guilt gift for the collection. But he had not touched her apart from a slight brushed kiss on her cheek when he arrived and left.

‘Well, this is a cosy little group today aint it. Shall we all ‘ave a guess at what ‘er problem is, pass the time a bit, we’ve only got ‘alf an ‘our left. Come on then Janey, what d’ya reckon, is she a murderer, did she do her ‘usband in or cut all the neighbours cats tails off.’
‘As you seem to have a lot to say this morning Jessie, and as I suggested earlier, why don’t we explore the reasons you find these quiet moments uncomfortable.’ said Sue quickly glancing around the group capturing everyone’s body language, before settling her eyes on Jessie.
The walls of the room seemed to advance forward, closing in on the circle of troubled lives, increasing the tension by condensing the mood close around the three people who had dominated the morning’s discussion.
‘Look, I aint ‘ere for the love of it. The fuckin’ judge said it was this or prison, and your “I go to church on Sundays, aren’t I a good person” act don’t fool me, so don’t fuckin’ bother with miracle working in ere, right.’ retorted Jessie as she lifted her feet up onto the edge of her chair and wrapped her arms around them. Her tall slender frame folded as if prepared to be the next surprise out of a Jack in a Box. ‘I don’t need you lot or anyone else. I’m just doin’ me days and then getting the fuck out of ‘ere.’ she continued.

‘Swearing is bad Jessie. You shouldn’t do it. You are always saying that word, all the time. It’s not right. People shouldn’t say that word, it’s a bad word.’ said Julie who was sat safely opposite Jessie and next to Sue, which was probably what gave her the courage to speak. She pushed her arms up the opposite sleeves of her baggy cream hand knitted jumper as if placing herself in a makeshift straight jacket before anyone else did.
The second hand of the cheap blue plastic wall clock ticked it’s way round the face taking five seconds to reach each number. Reliable. Constant.
‘If only people stayed the same, as trustworthy as a ticking clock.’ thought Maggie. She concentrated on the repetitive sound and watched the second hand make tiny jumps from one number to the next. ‘Clocks stay the same, move at the same pace, don’t step out of line or behave unexpectedly, don’t suddenly become louder or frighten you, or have impossible expectations of you; unless they are over wound, then they flip. Rob’s like that.’ thought Maggie ‘and I am the key.’ She had been unaware of her body language while she had been thinking and now realised that she too had lifted her legs up onto the chair and wrapped her arms around her ankles and as this realisation hit her, she saw Jessie, staring at her …


to be continued...