Never Really Over

Chapter 30

Maeve had never been to therapy. And as she walked into the office that smelled a little too much like vanilla, she was suddenly reminded of why. It looked exactly like any other doctor's office, but slightly smaller. Maeve figured it was because they never would have too many people waiting at the same time, probably because of privacy reasons.

She walked up to the tiny reception and was greeted with a very pleasant smile from the brunette receptionist. She looked like she was in her early thirties and Maeve could tell from her very rehearsed smile that she had been working here for a while.

"Good morning, how may I help you?" The receptionist asked, sounding a little too chirpy for their current situation.

"I have an appointment with Dr. Smith." Maeve said.

"Of course, what's your name?" The receptionist asked, readying herself to start typing Maeve's name into her computer.

Maeve looked around for a second, as if to make sure no one could hear and once she was sure no one was around, she said, "Maeve."

"Maeve, yeah 1 o'clock. Could you take a seat? Dr. Smith is just finishing up with her 12pm." The receptionist said.

Maeve nodded and headed towards the five chairs that were lined up against the wall, pointing at the TV that was playing the BBC. The more that Maeve looked around, the smaller the room seemed. Or maybe it was just her insecurities closing in on her.

She couldn't help but keep repeating the receptionist's words in her head, turning them over again and again, as if to understand the intention behind them. "Dr. Smith is just finishing up with her 12pm." There was nothing particularly unusual about what she had said but Maeve couldn't help but wonder if that's all she was going to be to her doctor, yet another time slot. Was she just going to be her 1pm?

Maeve felt kind of foolish being offended, especially since she hadn't even met the woman yet but she couldn't help but want to matter. Maybe that had been her life's struggle all along, the desire and need to feel like she mattered, that she had some sort of place in the world.

It hadn't even been five minutes and she was already making existential discoveries about herself. Did this mean she didn't need the therapy session anymore? Could she go home now, having learnt all there was to learn about herself?

Maeve despite how much she suddenly didn't want to do this was finding it hard to convince even herself. She knew she was just scared of what she would learn about herself. What if she didn't like what she found out? What if she was the reason her life had always kind of sucked? Maybe it wasn't everyone who had let her down, maybe she was the one who had been doing the disappointing all along.

Maeve was snapped out of what can only be described as a combination of an existential crisis and panic attack by the receptionist calling her name out and asking her to go to the door that was labelled "Dr. Smith."

Maeve warily walked into the room, immediately spotting the woman sitting in the single chair by the window. She didn't know why but Maeve wanted to avoid eye contact with her at all costs. So, she decided to look around the small room. There was the stereotypical leather couch in the center of the room that faced the chair the woman was sitting in. Next to the couch were two huge windows that brought in blinding sunlight. Behind the chair was a large table, which house a bunch of notes, files and a few potted plants. More plants lined the window sills, trying to make the place seem as cosy as possible.

The room wasn't big but at the same time felt large enough, as if anything more than this would be more than Maeve could handle. Once she had been pretending to be interested in the plants for longer than what would be deemed normal, Dr. Smith decided to clear her throat to get Maeve's attention.