Troubled Souls // 5SOS

XIII ∞ Voice

• Michael •

I glance up at the clock on the wall while my voice therapist, Mrs. Perdue, flips through her notebook to take a few notes on our progress today. She says I'm doing really well; I may even be able to sing again sooner than we originally thought.

She adjusts her rectangle-shaped glasses and looks up at me with a motherly smile. She's probably in her late forties with curly brown hair and wrinkles near her eyes from smiling. I think one of the reasons why I'm doing so well is because she makes me feel comfortable and always encourages me to keep trying my hardest.

"You're doing very well, Michael, I'm impressed by your progress so far," she says, flipping the notebook closed. She glances at the clock and her eyes get wide. "Oh my, I had no idea we were so far past our time. I'm sure your parents are expecting you home! We'll pick up where we ended off next time, okay?"

I nod, standing up from my chair and grabbing my notebook from the floor next to it. I'm nearly out the door when she stops me.

"Michael, I've been meaning to ask you something," she says. I nod, turning back to her to hear what she has to say. "I don't want to pry into anything personal, but ... may I ask, who's this Beth girl you're always mentioning?"

I smile to myself, opening my notebook and flipping to any empty page. "She's a girl from my therapy group," I write in reply.

Mrs. Perdue nods a little bit, seeming to understand, but her brows are furrowed together. "Well, she must be more than just another girl," she replies. "Her name was the first word you wanted to learn how to say."

I'm not really sure how to respond, so I just shrug and smile. Mrs. Perdue laughs. "Alright, I won't ask any more questions," she says, grinning. "Have a good day, Michael."

I reach into my pocket to grab my car keys as I head out to the parking lot. Despite what Mrs. Perdue thinks, I will not be going home. At least, not right away.

I should've done what I'm about to do a long time ago. I just hope I haven't waited too long.

Her neighborhood isn't all that far away from the hospital. I observe each house as I pass by, all of them average sized and plain with little white windows and green lawns. Is it creepy that I know where her house is? I've never been there before today, but her address just came up once in conversation. Should I text her? Will she think I'm weird?

I see her address on the black plated numbers on the front of one of the houses and I'm suddenly regretting this decision. I actually end up driving around the neighborhood again and coming back around to the house a second time.

I should leave. This was a bad idea.

But then I think, If I don't do it now, when will I work up the courage to do it?

I park my car on the curb next to the driveway and before I know what's happening, I'm jumping out of my car and heading up the drive towards her front door.

I ring the doorbell and as I'm waiting, I notice that there aren't any cars in the driveway. I hope she's home. What if her mum answers the door? That would be incredibly awkward. Maybe this was a bad idea ...

I see the door handle turn and hear the click. Too late to turn back now.

Her dirty blonde hair is tied into a braid that lays comfortably on her shoulder, covering up the "Y" in the Mayday Parade logo on her shirt. She's also wearing a pair of denim shorts and her feet are bare. She grins, looking slightly confused but happy to see me. That's a good sign.