A Room of Their Own Rakefet Yarden (top 10 novels of all time TXT) đ
- Author: Rakefet Yarden
Book online «A Room of Their Own Rakefet Yarden (top 10 novels of all time TXT) đ». Author Rakefet Yarden
Miko pulled the leash and rattled me out of my thoughts.
We went back home. Miko ran to his water bowl and gulped it down exuberantly, and I stared at the empty apartment. I, too, wanted to leap onto a bowl of some liquid substance. To give me strength. But yet again I didnât succumb to my bodily needs, to this instinct of life. Instead I brushed my teeth, changed into faded pajamas and went to sleep.
At 9:00 the next morning I was supposed to see the therapist that Dad had sent me to.
My arguing hadnât done any good, nor did my explanations and evasions. Dad wouldnât let it go, as usual. He had repeatedly called and talked to me about it at every opportunity. For a week, he showed up at my apartment every day, unannounced, until the cat was finally let out of the bag â so to speak.
âIâve had enough, Dani. Ever since Grandpa died, everyoneâs been asking why youâre so thin and why youâre not doing anything with yourself. I even overheard people talking among themselves, saying that even though Iâm a doctor, I still canât see that my daughter is about to die. Yes! Can you believe it?!â
He continued, revving himself up as though someone were arguing with him. âSo there you go. Iâm not going to stand by and let the entire world talk about how Iâm letting my daughter die. Yesterday I heard Fisher talking in the doctorsâ lounge about some therapist who really helped his son. With his drug problem, you know.â
He then suddenly resumed talking about me. âSo there you have it. I even spoke to her on your behalf. She wants you to call her yourself, because I mean, youâre 25 years old. Wow, 25 already! Who would have believed it? You look so tiny, Dani Dear. Maybe you take something to eat?â
I kept quiet.
âCome on, Dani. Promise me that youâll call her. Maybe she can help you,â he looked at me.
âI donât need help, Dad,â I tried, noticing that he was nearing his boiling point.
Maybe you should take yourself to therapy and leave me alone already . . . I wish I could have told him that. Instead, I remained silent. I couldnât fight him, but I could stay silent and hope that heâd leave me alone. But the attempt was to no avail. Dad grabbed the note he had given me a few minutes earlier, picked up my cell phone from the corner table and dialled. I froze. A few seconds went by and I suddenly found myself quickly trying to pull out words within a conversation I hadnât myself initiated.
âHer name is Rotem, I think,â he whispered too loudly.
Rotem
Last rays of daylight permeated the semi-transparent curtain. Outside the window, reddish-orange autumn leaves peeked through. The days were getting shorter, it wasnât yet four oâclock and the light was already fading. I sat down to update Jasmineâs medical file. I was typing sparingly, making sure not to overly detail yet still capture the essence, when the phoneâs screen flickered with an unknown number. I had once again forgotten to turn my ringtone back on after the session.
âHello. Yes, this is Rotem - not Doctor Rotem, just Rotem. No, Iâm not a psychologist, Iâm a social worker.â
âHow many diplomas do you have and where did you do your residency?â he asked, instead of just saying since when do social workers do therapy. Shouldnât you be at the social services office handing out coupons?
Eventually, he felt safe enough to tell me about Daniella, Dani. âSheâs not handling things, not doing well. Itâs always been hard for her, and when she was 12 it got worse, I donât know why. At first I thought it was just adolescence, obsessing about her appearance and her weight, but it didnât improve. She was hospitalized during the army and then got out for health reasons. But if you ask me, itâs all a façade. We pampered her too much to make up for not having time for them as well as a career. You donât just suddenly become the head of a hospital department you know.â
Yes, I know, youâre not just any old social worker. Youâll still need to let go a little bit, I thought to myself.
âDo you have experience with this type of thing?â he asked.
Experience with what, I asked myself? With girls who got pampered too much and are now acting out?
The conversation was stirring up a sense of unease within me that I didnât entirely understand. âListen, Dr. Freedman,â I finally said. âI suggest that I meet with your daughter and see if this can work. After all, itâs all a matter of chemistry.â
He didnât sound appeased. He probably thought to himself, what does chemistry have to do with it? either youâre a professional or youâre not.
âYes, of course. I realize that youâre concerned. No, I wonât meet with you before meeting with her. Yes, youâre right, it really is worrisome that your daughter has stopped eating. You said that sheâs 25? Then give her my number and weâll make an appointment. Weâll check to see if this can suit her and if Iâll be able to help.â
I returned to Jasmineâs medical file on the computer, with only 15 minutes left until I had to go pick up Yotam from pre-school. I typed quickly. âJasmine Levin, low spirits, reports sadness and troubling thoughts about the future. Shares her dreams and then doubts her ability to fulfill them. Wants to be a stand-up comedian but feels depressed and nothing makes her laugh. I suggested that she write about psychiatristsâ questions.â That would make others laugh just as much as she did. The phone call from
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