a cactus and a lily find a common pot to grow - trixya

Chapter 9: Part 3 - lonely if onlys

Trixie Mattel only curses in two very specific occasions. One of them is when she's had a few too many.

She doesn't usually drink with or around other people. In fact she tells everyone that she simply doesn't drink, but when she's home alone on Mondays and Fridays and any other evening in which she doesn't have to be social, she drinks entire bottles of wine without a second thought. She loves the feeling of it, she can let out a pleasant sigh just thinking about it: the buzz in her head as she tries to put on Grey's Anatomy but misses all the buttons on the remote, the silly way she giggles as she does some bold online shopping she most definitely should not be doing, the letters jumping around as she tries to read a new pie recipe to try out (she usually gives up halfway and eats some ice cream to calm her sweet tooth down) and, probably her favorite, the way her hands feel like someone else's when she slides and rubs them all over herself with very little, if any, clothing on as she screams some dirty, dirty things loud enough for her next door neighbors to give her an awkward smile on the morning after as they're taking out the trash - but thank God they never ask who the hell is this Katya they hear so much of even though they've never seen her there.

See, wine does this to her. If she shoots whiskey she'll fall asleep then and there, vodka makes her way too cheery, it's her party drink, beer is gross and she wouldn't dare drink it, but wine... oh wine. If she has too much of it, it will turn her from a sweet little lady into your dirty babygirl, who's been so good for you, will you pretty please eat her out and make her feel good? And now, when she gets like this, there's no way she can stop herself from biting her lip and running her hands over her breasts, praying she won't get wet enough that her juices will drip down her thighs - because that does happen every once in a while, and she can't let people see her like that. What a few bottles of wine do to her is the same that a single shot of tequila would. We don't talk about tequila. We stick with wine.

That's also why she always stops as soon as her first bottle is empty, but then again she didn't a few Saturdays ago, so she went past the horny princess stage and straight (or not so much) into the maniac problem solver with an excessive honesty issue (weirdly specific, she knows)- that's how we end up in the second situation in which she curses: her therapy sessions.

Trixie's therapist, Mrs. Kasha Davis, insists to be called Kasha. She doesn't want any formalities inside of her office, she says; she wants Trixie to let it go completely and say whatever, sit however and cry whenever - she has, in fact, said that, in these exact words, more than once, and Trixie doesn't necessarily appreciate the fact that she has a motto. Tacky. As. Shit.

Kasha is a tall woman who often wears long skirts or flowy dresses and an exaggerated amount of jewelry to go along with her expensive shoes and Trixie's sure it isn't her husband who's paying for them. No judging, though. Maybe just a little. Her office is not that big, but it was obviously designed to feel comforting and safe at all times - that means neutral beige walls, dim lighting, soft carpets and the artificial smell of lavender. Unfortunately, Trixie thinks it's just as tacky as her motto and the lavender gives her a headache.

It sounds right now as if Trixie doesn't like her, but that's not it - she thinks Mrs. Davis is a great person, she's just getting used to the idea of opening up to a stranger. And paying way too much money to do so. She has cried too many times in front of that woman and screamed at her many times more. She was usually angry and frustrated because that's how she felt when talking about Ian. Screw denial and depression, screw bargaining and looking for answers - she went straight to anger.

"Who the fuck does he think he is?" She shouted during their second session. She goes there twice a week. "See I'm not a bad person, but I would love to see that motherfucker die in a fire, I'd fucking set him on fire myself if I could."