Patients Six to Eight (II): Moira Times Three

I will admit that I was filled with dread during the upcoming hours of my second appointment with Mrs. Speicher, Mrs. Courant and Miss Dopo. I did not feel at all comfortable dealing with them. Then again, a promise was a promise, so help me God.

Every minute that passed I felt the uneasiness mounting up. I waited for the door knock. But after a long interval, I knew something was off. I checked the hands of the clock on the wall. Five past. Their time had come and they hadn’t arrived. They were late.

I couldn’t say it was unusual, after all, it was their second session. More evidence was needed to judge their punctuality habits. I could not help but wonder if something had happened. Were they coming? There was no way to contact them to find out. I would just have to sit tight and patiently twiddle my thumbs until their allotted forty-five-minute time slot had passed, which would permit me to move on with the next patient.

I proceeded then, after fifteen minutes in total had elapsed, to make myself useful, killing time by checking who was next in line for the couch after the three ladies. I gleefully found out I had scheduled a one-hour break for myself. Not that I could blame myself, I had somehow foreseen that the meeting with the trio of women would be an energy-draining exercise.

Twenty minutes total had eventually gone by, that is, almost fifty per cent of the arranged duration. And there were no news. I could not help feeling a wee bit on the peeved side. After all, they had fought me tooth and nail in order to become my patients. Still, I was going to charge them for my wasted time, regardless of the fact if they came in later or not for this session.

Then at one moment, I thought I heard noises in the passage behind my front door. But no, a false alarm. I tried to relax. My mind was inclined to think they were not going to make it already, but my senses tingled, as if paranoid.

I sat down on my therapist’s chair and tried to profile them out with what information I had from the first session. The historian was the oldest one and the one who had talked the most, as if she had sage-like advice to impart. She had almost driven the brunette, Mrs. Courant, up the wall. The pair rarely agreed in the session, but there was something sisterly in those bust-ups. Courant herself seemed too arrogant. The interesting one, or rather, the mysterious one was red little Miss Dopo, who had barely spoken.

I turned my attention to their problem. They had claimed they had lost the connection that bound them together. I wondered what they had meant. Telepathy? Sisterly bond? Instinct? Not a clue.

With ten minutes to go I took for granted they were not coming. Somewhat naively, I wished there was a communication of some sort to excuse them. Surely there was a good reason for their disappearance.

I checked the clock one last time. Their time was up. As I began my break, I wondered, when would I those three meet again.