Chapter 0017
Janet’s Point of View
I stepped out of Tracy’s car, my heart beating fast in my chest. The tall building of Lakeview Private Hospital stood in front of me, all glass and shine. I wasn’t worried about what happened at the mall or even about digging up my past that I tried so hard to forget. It was this interview that made my stomach tight with knots.
My brother Jasper made it sound so easy. By getting the application letter for me. But still, I couldn’t help feeling a little bit tense. What if something goes wrong? What if I wasn’t good enough?. It has been a long time since I’m in this field.
Tracy touched my arm before I walked away from the car. “Remember, if anything goes wrong, I’m just one call away.”
I nodded, grateful. It was my first time trusting someone like this, opening up about my life. It felt strange but good.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll text you when I’m done.”
The hospital lobby was clean and bright. A woman at the front desk looked up as I approached.
“Hi, I’m Janet. I have an interview at 2 PM.”
The receptionist smiled, all polite and proper. “Of course, Ms. Janet. Please follow me.”
She led me to a quiet waiting area with dark green chairs and a small water fountain that made soft splashing sounds. The walls were painted a calm blue color, and there were plants in every corner.
“Director Alice will be with you shortly,” she said before walking away.
I sat down, keeping my back straight like my mother taught me. I tried to focus on the peaceful bubbling of the water feature, but my mind was racing. This job would mean freedom from Rowan. A fresh start. My
own money.
My hands shook a little, so I clasped them tightly in my lap. I looked around the room, trying to distract myself.
Ten minutes felt like forever, but finally, the door opened. A woman walked in, maybe in her late forties, with short gray-streaked hair and a navy blue suit that looked like it cost a fortune. Her face was serious but not unkind.
“You are Ms. Janet, right?” she asked, looking at me with sharp eyes.
I stood up quickly, maybe too quickly, and extended my hand. “Yes, that’s me. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I’m Alice, and I’m the director in charge of your interview. Thank you for coming in today.” Her handshake was firm and brief. “If you may? Let’s talk in my office.”
I followed her down a hallway with artwork on the walls-real artwork, not the cheap prints most places hang. My heels clicked against the marble floor, sounding too loud in the quiet space.
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Her office was bigger than my entire study room at Rowan’s house. One wall was all windows, looking out over the city. Another had shelves packed with books-psychology textbooks, reference manuals, and some novels too. Behind her desk hung a painting with swirls of blue and green that somehow made me think of
the ocean.
The desk alone looks like it’s made from a single piece of wood. And that painting… I bet it costs more than a car. There’s a faint smell in here too-jasmine tea, I think. The whole room feels important but not showy. Like someone who knows they’re powerful but doesn’t need to brag about it.
“Please, have a seat,” Director Alice said, gesturing to a chair across from her desk.
I sat down, smoothing my grown. She opened a folder with my name on it and flipped through a few pages.
“Your academic record is excellent. Graduated top of your class, and also working as an intern at Gracewood Behavioral Clinic-that was very impressive.”
“Yes, thank you, ma’am,” I replied, managing a smile despite my nerves. “It was a formative experience. I worked under Dr. Bridge for six months.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Impressive. He speaks highly of you.”
That caught me off guard. “You know Dr. Bridge?” I asked, my voice rising a little.
“We cross paths from time to time. This field is smaller than it seems.”
Does she knows Dr. Bridge? That’s… unexpected. He never mentioned knowing anyone at Lakeview. But then again, why would he? It’s not like we were friends. He was my boss, and I was just an intern. Still, it’s nice to know he said good things about me.
The tight feeling in my chest eased a bit. If Dr. Bridge had put in a good word for me, maybe this wasn’t such a long shot after all.
“So,” Director Alice said, pulling out a pen, “tell me about your approach to cognitive-behavioral therapy.”
I took a deep breath and answered her question, then the next, and the next. Most were things I had prepared for-how I handled difficult patients, what I thought about burnout, my experiences with people from different backgrounds. With each answer, I felt more confident. My voice grew stronger, my back
straighter.
Director Alice’s face gave nothing away as she took notes. She didn’t smile, but she nodded now and then, which I took as a good sign.
After about forty minutes, she set down her pen and closed her notebook.
“One final question, Miss Janet.”
“Yes?” I smiled politely, my hands resting on my own notebook in my lap.
“Are you married?”
The question hit me like cold water. I blinked, trying to keep my face neutral.
“I’m sorry is this also part of the interview?” I asked, my voice tighter than I wanted it to be. I never
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discussed my marriage with anyone. It was private, painful, and none of anyone’s business.
“Are you currently married? Or in a long-term relationship?” she repeated, her voice calm, like she was asking about the weather.
I searched her face for any hint of judgment or mockery, but found none. Just professional curiosity. Still, it
felt wrong.
“I wasn’t aware that was relevant to the position,” I said carefully, measuring each word.
Director Alice closed my file, folding her hands neatly on top of it. “It’s a standard question we ask of all applicants. Some of our clients prefer to work with counselors who share certain life experiences. Marriage, motherhood, family life-these often shape a therapist’s worldview.”
I felt my breath catch in my throat. My chest tightened again, but this time with anger, not nerves.
“With all due respect,” I said slowly, trying to keep my voice steady, “I believe professional competency
should matter more than marital status.”
“It does,” Alice said smoothly, not missing a beat. “But our clients pay premium fees. They expect to choose whom they work with. We accommodate that where we can.”
I couldn’t help it-I laughed, short and sharp, no humor in it at all. “So if I were married with two children, I’d be more appealing?”
Alice didn’t answer directly. Her face remained professional, blank. “Some clients find that relatable.”
Heat rose to my cheeks. I could feel my face flushing, and my hands started to shake again, but for a different reason now.
“I appreciate the transparency,” I said, standing up and gathering my things, “but I think that will be all.”
Director Alice raised an eyebrow but didn’t move from her seat. “Is there a problem, Miss Janet?”
“I came here to be evaluated on my ability to help people,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Not in my personal life. I don’t think this is the right environment for me.”
Alice nodded once, her face still calm. “I understand. But we take our clients’ expectations into consideration when choosing a counselor for them.”
I held my folder tight against my chest, gave a small bow of my head because I couldn’t quite shake the politeness my mother had drilled into me, and walked out of the office.
My steps were fast as I walked down the hallway, but I made sure not to run. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me upset. The receptionist looked up in surprise when I passed through the lobby, but I didn’t stop to explain.
Outside, the air felt good on my hot face. I marched straight to the car park where Tracy waited. I yanked open the passenger door and dropped into the seat, slamming the door shut behind me.
Tracy turned to me, her eyes wide with concern. “Is everything alright?”
“Just drive,” I said through clenched teeth. “I need to get the hell out of here.”
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