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CHAPTER NINE. thursday.
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"SO, WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO BEGIN?"
That's the dreaded verb, I suppose. Like. Truthfully, I don't like many things in life, with the exception of myself, Lola, and my little sister. Those are the only three things I tolerate, liking is far too strong of a word, which is why sitting in Dr. Fraser's office results in radio silence on my part. She sits with a timer in hand, waiting for the moment I decide to speak so she can keep track of the duration of our conversation, though that seems all the more unlikely the more I dawn on what I'm doing.
I'm attending my first therapy session and, if I don't speak, I'll be sent to an inpatient. Life or death.
I huff, "I dunno." My words are muttered and I sit with my legs crossed; stiff, uncomfortable, closed off.
"Okay," Dr. Fraser begins the timer, "tell me a bit about yourself, Carmen. Anything you want."
"Well, the reason I'm here is because doctors think I'm bulimic. So, I guess you should know I have bulimia, 'cause I'm basically limited to that label now." I speak bitterly, grinding my teeth and twisting a frayed edge of my cardigan.
"That's not the answer I expected." she says as her pen scribbles on a notebook page, "Let's start this like any introduction. Forget your surroundings, forget the reason your here, forget everything." A pause follows her statement, followed by, "My name is Anita Fraser, I'm a mother and a therapist, and I would like to know more about you. Your turn."
I copy the structure of her speech, "My name is Carmen Flores, uh, I live with my mom and sister." I think of what other bland, surface-level fact I can say about myself, "I'm going to UPenn for an accounting degree soon."
"See, we're getting somewhere." Anita confirms (can I call her Anita? Referring to her by her doctorate title seems too clinical), "No dad at home?"
