Behind every mean girl...there's a tragedy

The perks of silence

 Cold, sterile, ominous, just plain disturbing. This place gives me the creeps, worse than the hospital. Why am I here? I don't want to be here, I don't like being here. The baby blue painted walls do nothing to ease the anxiety bubbling inside of me. I feel like a mouse caught in a trap waiting to be slaughtered. I arch my back to relish the soreness in my spine caused by the stuffy armchair.

They've finally gotten me in here. The famous Dr. Frey's office. I'm only here for the complimentary cookies, though. I don't need a shrink.

I stand up to stretch my legs. At least the good one. They feel as stiff as a two hundred years old tree planted on solid ground. It physically hurts me to make the first few steps but I eventually fall into a lazy up-and-down rhythm in the lobby.

What is she doing in there? I've been sitting inside this hell palace for the past hour with absolutely nothing to do except listening to the rapid thumping of my heart and the tick-tock of the clock watching me with an indignant eye. I wasn't allowed to come with even my phone for fear of me getting distracted.

Why did I let my mother drag me in here? It's for your own good, they said. Yeah right, the only good I'm getting in here is a good cramp. When I woke up this morning I was desperate to get out of that house so I left two hours before my scheduled session. Here happened to be the only place in mind. Now, I'm regretting that decision.

There's literally nobody else in here. Aren't those big shot doctors supposed to have secretaries to attend to their waiting patients?

A loud disturbance near the elevator catches my attention.

Finally, I no longer have to wither in self-pity.

The appearance of an over-gelled hair and disorganized clothing in unmatched colors make me take it back.

"Oh my God," he mutters as papers fly out of his hands and float on the soft peach tiles. "Why is this always happening to me?"

I find myself crawling back into the chair, trying to become invisible. What is that lady still doing inside of that room? How screwed up that guy is to require two full hours of a therapist's time?

"Miss, can you please come help me?" He calls out without looking up at me.

I hold my breath and stop moving as to eliminate my presence but I know they are useless since I'm the only one here. I might as well have a big neon sign pointing at me. That, however, does not signify that I will actually get up to him. I'm completely incapacitated with my crutches in my hands.

Who am I kidding? I didn't help him when I was the picture of health why would I start now?

"Never mind," he says after a couple minutes of silence. "I think I got all of them but thanks for the offer."

What offer? Has he lost his mind now?

"Oh, Nikkie. It's you again," he utters once he lifts his head to look at me. A rosy blush spreads from the tip of his nose to his ears. "I didn't expect to see you here. Wow, we haven't seen each other since that party. By the way, I never thanked you for inviting me. It was really fun, I had serious fun. Thanks for inviting me."

"I didn't invite you, I don't know who did either."

He breathes at a quick laugh. "Yeah, I don't really remember neither. I guess Dr. Frey was right when she said I have a bad memory. I don't know how it got so bad. I used to be real sharp at remembering details but now it's all going down the drain. It's life, you know, our memories just slip away as we get older."

"Don't you ever feel like you talk too much?" I ask when he stops talking to suck air back into his lungs.

"Yeah, I've tried to stop but I can't seem to. Dr. Frey said it's normal because I have a lot on my mind."