"It's a sobering thought. There is some bittersweet comfort that comes with that realization. So few experience these moments in such clarity, so few get the chance to savor them with intent."
PRESENT DAY-
SITTING outside the therapist's office seemed unnatural, this was the absolute last thing Mark thought he would result to in the light of everything that has happened in the past two years. But seeing how concerned he made everyone, he felt compelled to start.
He looked at the time on his phone, 12:43pm. He's been waiting over ten minutes for his appointment with Sierra Thompson, the leading psychologist in Toronto with over twenty years of experience. But then how would he know? He literally booked an appointment after looking her up three days ago. Mark can't help but wonder if the One-fifty dollar sessions were even worth it.
Mark looks around the rather well furnished waiting room. It was a beautiful lavender with white curtains draped and parted around the big open windows with four matching plain white arm chairs with small lavender throw-pillows situated on each side of the two windows. There was jazz music playing over the small portable speakers placed on the two side tables placed by only two of the chairs, one of which Mark was sitting on. His eyes land on the blonde receptionist behind her desk across from him. She looks up at him, scrunches her face and looks away. Mark does same, realizing he was staring too long, he mutters a "Sorry" and awkwardly peels away the chapped skin on his knuckles. It's a habit he's come to develop over the past year.
The door to the office to opens to a small quaint woman with a short blow out, a woman by her side, clutching her purse. They were too engulfed in conversation to notice anyone else in the room. Soon they both bid themselves goodbye with talk of having another session thrown in the air. The quaint woman, who Mark assumed was Sierra, turned towards him and gave him a soft, faint smile.
"Mr Boone" She starts, her skin looks silky and smooth, a little show of wrinkles on her small round face signifies aging. She's roughly five feet and four inches not older than forty-five, her slender figure was adorned in some form fitting jeans, a white dress shirt with an ash grey blazer to complete the fit. "Step into my office".
Mark nods and stands to walk into her office.
The office's décor is inviting and warm. The room matches Sierra's energy. The walls are painted white with silver modern abstract sculptures and frame pieces hanging scantily on the three large walls. The fourth wall being a floor to ceiling window overlooking the busy yet intriguing downtown scenery below. There is one wing chair and a small couch placed opposite each other, a small coffee table in the middle.
"So, Mr Boone" She starts again, taking her seat in the wing chair and Mark automatically knowing to sit on the couch. Her eyes are fixed on the note pad she held in her hands, with a pen she swirled around her fingers. "Why don't we start with a little introduction and a brief run through of why you're here today" She looks up and gives another soft, faint smile.
Mark takes a deep breath. He doesn't want to be here, nothing about this appeals to him.
"Mark Boone and quite frankly, I don't think I need to be here."
"Why is that?"
"I just don't think I do. I'm only here because I'm making everyone concerned. I would really rather not do this."
"Yet, you're here today, in my office, on my nice couch." She states matter-of-factly.
Mark scoffs.
"Look," Sierra sets down her note pad, leans back into the chair and crosses her legs, "I've gone through over a hundred clients in my career and usually it starts with people claiming they don't need help, they don't have a problem, clearly missing the very valid point that they do and everyone that loves and cares about them pushes them to get help, to seek help, not humiliate them or make them feel like a victim or get them to be unnecessarily vulnerable with a total stranger, no, it's simply because they miss the part of that person that loved them back a hundred percent, they miss the part of that person that was so integral to their being, it hurts them." She looks straight into Mark's eyes. "The people that sit on that couch don't realize how much they've really lost till they realize how much that loss is starting to cost the people they love, and in a way I feel like you do know, you realize that you do have a problem and you want help, you realize you've lost too much to the point you can't handle it on your own anymore. I don't think it was the people who pushed you here, I just think you're using it as an excuse to defend why you came here against your better judgement."
