Free Me From The Masquerade

I had been affected - and mother obviously thought that was a problem.

It's not up to me to decide what happens from here now. I'm just Erin. I'm
just here.

Sitting opposite the door of a shrink was not how I had envisaged spending
my Thursday evening. It was a 'surprise' visit on mother's behalf - to say I
was less than pleased, well...

"Dr Goldwyn is supposed to be one of the best in her practice,"
mother told me.

If I hear that line one more time today I may have to kill her, shoot her
through the head so her brain doesn't function anymore. That would shut her up.
Whilst I contemplated how I would kill my mother, the oak door with the golden
plaque swung open and a woman - not in a white coat - stepped out.

"Erin Walsh?" she looked questioningly at me, raising a perfectly
maintained eyebrow at me. So she was one of 'those', perfect.

Pulling myself to my feet, I didn't bother looking back at mother as I took
the drudging steps towards Dr Goldwyn. As I came closer, I could smell the
distinct scent of vanilla surrounding her. I say surrounding her... more
emanating, like a mushroom cloud of perfume. In an attempt not to gag, I
brushed past her.

I was confronted by a mahogany fetish. The desk, the bookshelves, the
cupboards. The lady liked wood. She chatted in soft, husky tones at the door
with my mother, who I had insisted was not to be allowed in under any
circumstances. Bored, I chose myself the mahogany seat furthest away from the
mahogany desk, next to the mahogany bookshelves. It was uncomfortable.

"So Erin..." the doctor turned to me, finally pealing herself away
from my mother. I thought everything here was supposed to be confidential? Yet,
they were undoubtedly talking about me... In that moment, I decided I wasn't
going to tell her anything, or it would end up at my mother's ear no doubt.

"I take it you know why you're here?" the doctor asked.

Stupidly, I sat staring at her in silence. Sensing that everything I sais
would be psychoanalysed somehow, I opted for the safest option - say nothing.
Amazingly, Dr Goldwyn seemed to have something to note about that, as she
seated herself and began scribbling at the piece of paper in front of her. She
never took her eyes away from me the entire time. Her small, dark pupils
watching me intently. Unnerving.

"My mother thinks this is what I need." I had told her this, only
in the hope that it would make her stop staring. Unfortunately it didn't.

"And what do you think Erin?" she asked. So it started
here.

"I couldn't say."

"And why is that?" her head was cocked to one side, pen in hand,
looking. I wanted to cover my face, hide in my hands, do anything to escape the
clutch of her gaze. But I couldn't. That would be backing down. I wasn't
anything interesting to look at particularly. Average height and weight, dark
brown hair and brown eyes. I was... by my own definition: plain.

I was sick of pretending. Pretending that I was okay, that I was happy. No
one ever noticed me, I had wondered through the past sixteen years invisible. I
had had many friends but they were all so transient. I never spoke to any of
them for long. Now here I was, stuck in Dr Goldwyn's office, wondering... was
there anything wrong with me... or is this just mother's concern?

All the while in the background, my brain was screaming: free me from the
masquerade. Removing the masque now was too big a sacrifice to make on behalf
of a shrink.

"I'm so sorry..." I stood up, excusing myself, "...but I've
just remembered there's somewhere I need to be."