Chapter 0019
Janet’s Point of View
“Take care, sis,” Peter said, leaning across the car seat as I stepped out. My youngest brother’s smile was warm, his eyes crinkling at the corners just like mine do.
I waved as he drove away, then turned to face the building. Westside Clinic, My new workplace now.
I still couldn’t believe how fast everything happened. Just yesterday, Jasper promised he’d get me a job here. And this morning, I got a call saying they were expecting me today. No interview like he said and No endless paperwork. Just like that I got a job like it’s nothing.
Is this how life works for normal people?* I wondered. Or just for people with brothers who can do anything for you?
The clinic wasn’t what I expected. From the name, I thought it would be small, maybe a little run-down. But the building in front of me was modern, with big windows and a neat garden out front. The sign was simple but elegant: “Westside Clinic – Healing Minds, Restoring Lives.”
I took a deep breath and walked through the automatic doors. The inside was even nicer-clean white walls, comfortable-looking chairs in the waiting area, and plants everywhere. It smelled good too, like lemons and something fresh, not like the harsh cleaning chemicals most hospitals use.
As I walked down the corridor, looking for the office number I’d been given, I noticed how quiet it was. Peaceful. The kind of place that makes you feel better just by being there.
Before I could reach the next hallway, a woman stepped out of a doorway. She was tall and thin, with silver- streaked black hair pulled back in a neat bun. Her face lit up when she saw me.
“You must be Janet!” she said, walking toward me with her hand outstretched. “I’m Dr. Elena Martinez. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
I shook her hand, surprised by how warm and firm her grip was. “Yes, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you too.”
She smiled, her dark eyes studying me. “You’re exactly as Jasper described-though he didn’t mention you would be this punctual. You’re fifteen minutes early!”
I felt my cheeks warm at the mention of my brother. “I didn’t want to be late on my first day.”
“Perfect. Then we have time for a quick tour before I introduce you to everyone.” She gestured for me to
follow her.
As we walked, Dr. Martinez pointed out different rooms-therapy offices, group session spaces, a small cafeteria for staff and patients. Everyone we passed smiled at her, and she greeted each person by name.
“We’re not a big facility,” she explained, “but we try to make up for it with quality care. Jasper’s investment has helped us upgrade a lot of our services recently.”
Finally, we reached a conference room where several people sat around a table with coffee cups and notepads.
“Everyone,” Dr. Martinez said as we entered, “this is Dr. Janet Beckett, our new counselor.”
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Six faces turned to look at me. I felt my stomach tighten with nerves, but I managed a smile.
“Janet, this is our team-Dr. Patel, Dr. Wong, Dr. Roberts, and our nurses, Sarah, Miguel, and Denise.”
They all said hello, their faces friendly and curious. I noticed that Dr. Martinez didn’t mention I was Jasper’s sister, or anything about my family. She introduced me like any other new doctor, and I felt grateful for that.
After a brief team meeting where they discussed current patients, Dr. Martinez took me to her office-a warm room with bookshelves and a view of the garden.
“I’m going to be honest with you, Janet,” she said, sitting behind her desk. “When Jasper reached out, we were running short on staff. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to start today. We have a patient who I think would benefit from your approach.”
She handed me a file. “Edward Jones. Thirty-two years old. He was in a car accident three weeks ago that killed his mother and grandmother. They were the only family he had.”
I opened the file, scanning the notes. “It says here he hasn’t been responsive to therapy.”
Dr. Martinez sighed. “He hasn’t been responsive to anything. He sits in his room, barely eats, barely sleeps. He won’t talk to any of us.” She leaned forward. “I’ve tried everything. We all have. I’m hoping a new face might help.”
I nodded slowly. “I’ll try my best.”
“That’s all I ask.” She stood up. “Let me take you to him.”
We walked to a private room at the end of a quiet hallway. Through the small window in the door, I could see a man sitting in a chair by the window. He was thin, with dark hair that looked like it hadn’t been combed in days. His shoulders were slumped, his gaze fixed on something outside that only he could see.
“That’s how he’s been for a week now,” Dr. Martinez said softly. “Just sitting there. Staring.’
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My heart squeezed in my chest. I knew that look-the emptiness, the loss. I’d seen it in my own eyes after my adoptive father died.
“Let me try talking to him,” I said.
Dr. Martinez nodded. “I’ll be at the nurses’ station if you need me.”
I took a deep breath and knocked gently on the door before entering.
Edward Jones didn’t look up as I came in. I didn’t rush to speak, just closed the door quietly behind me and walked to the empty chair across from him.
“Mr. Jones,” I said softly. “My name is Dr. Janet Beckett. I’m new here.”
I sat down, placing his file on the small table between us. “I know you probably don’t want to talk. That’s okay. We can just sit here.”
I looked out the window where he was staring. There wasn’t much to see-just the parking lot and some trees beyond it. But I sat with him, quiet, watching the leaves move in the wind.
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After about five minutes of silence, I spoke again. “It’s a nice view. Peaceful.”
To my surprise, he turned his head slightly toward me. His eyes, red-rimmed and tired, met mine for a brief second before looking away again.
“They all try to make me talk,” he said, his voice rough from disuse. “About how I feel. About what happened.”
I nodded. “People mean well. But sometimes talking doesn’t help.”
He looked at me again, longer this time. “You’re different from the others.”
“I’m new,” I said with a small smile. “Give me time. I might get annoying too.”
The corner of his mouth twitched-not quite a smile, but close.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” I asked. “Just around the building? It might feel good to move a little.”
He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”
As we walked through the hallways, people tried not to stare, but I could feel their surprise. Dr. Martinez, who was talking to a nurse, nearly dropped her clipboard when she saw Edward walking beside me.
I led him to my new office, which was small but had a nice view of the garden. He sat down in the chair across from my desk, looking slightly more alert than before.
“They say I should talk about it,” he said suddenly. “About the accident. About them.’
I sat down at my desk, keeping my movements slow and calm. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. “Not about the accident. I can’t… I can’t see it again in my head.”
“Then we won’t talk about that,” I said simply. “What would you like to talk about?”
He looked surprised, like he wasn’t expecting that answer. “I don’t know.”
“What about your mother and grandmother? Not the accident-just them. What were they like?”
His eyes filled with tears, but he didn’t look away. “They were everything to me. My father left when I was a baby. It was always just us three.”
As he spoke, his words came faster, like a dam breaking. He told me how his grandmother taught him to cook, how his mother worked two jobs to send him to college. How they were the only ones who believed in
him when he started his business.
“They were the only ones who ever loved me,” he said, his voice cracking. “Not for my money, not for what I could do for them. Just me.”
I nodded, understanding in my chest. “That’s rare. To be loved like that.”
“Everyone keeps saying I should see a therapist. My friends, my secretary. They say I’m angry all the time now. Depressed.” He shook his head. “I tell them I’m fine. I tell everyone I’m fine.”
“But you’re not,” I said softly. “And that’s okay.”
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He looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time. “How do people do this? How do they lose someone and keep going?”
I thought about my adoptive father, how I’d felt when he died. And about my real parents–the loss I couldn’t even remember but had shaped my whole life.
“One day at a time,” I said. “Sometimes one minute at a time. And you let yourself feel it. All of it. Even the parts that hurt.”
He was quiet for a long time, just looking out the window at the garden. When he spoke again, his voice was different-softer, more open.
“I feel something today,” he said. “For the first time since it happened. I don’t know what it is, but it’s something besides numb.” He looked back at me. “Thank you, Dr. Beckett.”
“Janet,” I said. “You can call me Janet.”
When our session ended, I walked Edward back to his room. He wasn’t magically healed-no one could be, after what he’d been through. But something had shifted. A door had opened, just a crack.
Dr. Martinez was waiting for me at the nurses’ station, her eyes wide with questions.
“He talked to you,” she said as I approached. “Actually you guys talked.”
I nodded. “He’s ready to start healing. It will take time, but he’s open to it now.”
She stared at me like I had performed a miracle. “Janet, we’ve been trying to reach him for a week. How did you…?”
I shrugged, not sure how to explain. “Sometimes people just need someone who understands their kind of pain.’
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Dr. Martinez smiled, shaking her head in wonder. “Well, whatever you did, it worked. I’d like you to continue as his primary counselor, if you’re willing.”
“1
“Of course,” I said, feeling a warm glow of pride. This was what I had always wanted-to help people, to
make a difference.
As we walked back to her office to discuss Edward’s treatment plan, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time: purpose. I belonged here, doing this work. Not because of who my family was, but because of what I could do.
The rest of the day passed quickly. I met with two more patients, filled out paperwork, and set up my office with the few personal items I had brought. Before I knew it, it was time to go home.
As I walked out the front doors, I saw a familiar car pulling into the parking lot. Peter’s sleek black BMW rolled to a stop in front of me, and he rolled down the window.
“How was the first day, superstar?” he asked, grinning. “It’s great, ” I answered as I dashed into the car.
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