Here I am stuck in this dingy basement with some mean therapist lady. Help!

Today, only one dance head is here. It’s Meirav. She’s the coolest girl ever. Like take someone who comes from a wealthy family, has an amazing sense of style, is also brilliant, imagine that she’s also charismatic, friends with the whole school — and also incredibly nice. That’s Meirav. Girls get intimidated by her because she’s just this legend, but she doesn’t seem to know how to say a mean or snobby word to anyone. Her davening is out of this world and she’s so modest.

Now she’s taking attendance, and each girl receives a real, glowing smile.

I totally wish I could be like her. And then my heart falls, because how can I be like Meirav if I have problems and need therapy?

I’m sitting in Dalia’s office. It’s really her basement. The walls are wood-paneled and the atmosphere dark. She has a stiff sheitel and dark eyes. Her demeanor is patronizing. She gazes at me for a half a minute straight before commencing with her “intake” as she calls it.

“Parents names?”

“Mother’s maiden name?”

“Why do you need to know all these things?” I ask, puzzled.

“Because!” she says, giving me a look.

This is an interrogation. I feel vulnerable. Here I am stuck in this dingy basement with some mean therapist lady. Help!

I ignore anything she has to say, especially when she criticizes my parents for something. My parents are not perfect, but they’re amazing and I love them!

It feels like it’s years, but finally it’s time to go.

I tell her that I’ll let her know if I’ll come again, while knowing full well I won’t.