17 Last Times

⤹7❁ Touch

Hello! I know I was supposed to update on the weekend but I just couldn't. I'm happy to be posting a new chapter, though! Thank you for waiting and commenting x
Enjoy!

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𝓝𝓲𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓮

Her fingers latch on horizontal blind slats, very gently, as if she was expecting them to have grown in thick dust. She makes the gap, exposing the world outside the window, grow bigger, as her thumb pushes downward on the slat whilst her index finger lifts the one above. She scrutinizes something out there intently, whatever it might be. I think she's just gaining a little bit of time to herself. I can sense how distant she really is. It's radiant.

Her fingers let go off the slats and her face is no longer aglow with the late sun, only its tattered, amber spill.

The kettle, which I put on a few minutes ago, gurgles and eventually boils. As I make tea for us, her eyes avert back towards the window.

"I'm going to be fine. Trust me." Her voice is marked with deluded confidence, something I know there's no coming back from.

And just like she stood there once, in my office, so does Davina now, staring at the world through the same slats that Beverly had had her fingers previously latched on.

The kettle boils (again) and I make tea (again) and this whole situation seems like a dreadful déjà vu.

William peers at Davina, deeply concerned, and I should be proud of him for trying to help someone he cares for, yet I can't help the nervousness that expands in my stomach like an inflated balloon. I've let Beverly down. I've let my daughter down. I've almost let William down, and now I have another young girl in my office who expects nothing less from me than to help her get through. But can I?

Cassie's death made me lose my confidence as a therapist. I was unable to keep my own child alive, happy, sane, so how can I do it with a complete stranger?

Sometimes it's easier to talk to someone we don't know. The voice in my head reminds me.

Half-conscious, I place the mugs on a small coffee table located right before the sofa. William thanks me with a silent nod and Davina only casts an uninterested glimpse towards her tea.

"Sorry, did you want something else?" I smile, not too widely, pointing at the cabinet behind my desk. "I've got lemon water, coffee–"

"I'm good, thanks." Her tone is clipped, and I know this session is not going to be easy.

William appears even more distressed than I am feeling right now. I know that he doesn't want to leave, but I've got no other choice than to dismiss him.

"William–"

"I know." He gets up from the settee and takes the mug into his hands. "I'll wait outside."

The moment he deserts the room, Davina's expression changes marginally, and her shoulders become less tense, as if she was waiting for it to happen. I take advantage of her brief moment of relief.

"Would you like to sit down?" I offer, wanting to break the ice.

"Sitting down means I'm going to stay here for a while, and I'm not sure if I want to." Her tone is flat.

I rest against my desk, holding a mug of my lukewarm coffee — I always pour enough milk to bring down the temperature. "I thought it was your idea to come here?" I state rather than ask, keeping my voice calm and friendly.