I like you, Dili Jacobs

prologue: i don't like summers.

"Miss Jacobs?" Dili's eyes wearily glanced at the worried mask the older lady had. She couldn't help but wince slightly at the rigid posture the lady punished herself into. So up and tight like some unbreakable pole.

Pole...

Pole....

Pole?

Where did that come from?

"Miss Jacobs," this time the voice was stern. Great, another one is pissed at her for daydreaming. Dili simply gulped as she let her eyes wander off around the poor attempt of a happy conducive office. The posters are badly colour coordinated in her opinion and she rather sit on actual chairs than whatever they put their ass on. Was it bouncy balls? She thought it was only pregnant women that used these things.

And so do therapists apparently.

"You know if you don't talk to me, I'm going to keep recommending you to come here, meaning mummy and daddy will be losing unnecessary money," the lady squeaked, bending forward slightly as though addressing a toddler. Dili snorted which raised the lady's curiosity in form of her eyebrow.

"You find such situations funny? Like the fact that money will be squandered over an accident that could have been avoided?" The small smile faded instantly at the berating tone.

As usual, they're all the same.

Dili couldn't understand in what world her Nigerian mother thought it was okay to send her to therapy.

The woman was literally snickering a few hours ago with her nosy friend on how a member of their church was quote on quote, a therapy maniac. Whatever that means.

"I guess we're sticking with the silent treatment today. Again. Not a problem, I'll just recommend-"

"Don't bother. I'm not coming back," Dili mumbled as she stood up, her royal blue pleated skirt fluttering around her knees. The lady simply stared at Dili before letting out a frustrated sigh. She pushed her thin rimmed glasses in and cleared her throat, hoping to emphasise her disdain for the session.

"I'm afraid you don't get that choice, dear," she said.

"But I'm the victim right? My mum didn't go through what I went through so why does she determine whether I need to talk to a complete stranger to sort myself out?" Dili asked, her frail voice picking up some heat as she felt her ears grow hot as the rage slowly stewed within her.

"You're not exactly talking to her, are you?"

"I'm not talking to you either, the difference though, is that she could have saved the money for something more worthwhile. Just saying," the lady tsked at the tall slender girl before her and gave a curt nod.

"You still have ten minutes,"

"Then that's my cue to leave. Thank you Dr. Ogunsanya," Dili said with a curt bow that somehow irritated the lady as she scrunched her lined face, her eyes reeling with judgement as the young lady picked up her bag and walked out of the choking office.

Finally, I can breathe.

Dili threw a strap of her back pack on her shoulder and kept her head down as she walked briskly past the secretary that shouted a warm 'thank you for patronising us' and the curious gaze of the other patients in the waiting room.

Stepping out from the little building sandwiched between two storey buildings as though protecting it, she glanced up to see her driver standing at ease by a black Mercedes car.

"How long?" She asked airly.

"Just arrived madam," she winced at the title and quickly entered the front seat. Being used to the young lady defiance to seat at the back since the accident, the driver quietly got in and began the drive home.

"Is she aware?" Dili asked cautiously, not in the mood to face her mother's wrath of dismissing yet again another therapist.

The driver glanced at her and sighed, almost in defeat making Dili chuckle bitterly at her misfortune.

"Of course,"

"You know she is only trying to help you. It's what she knows how to do as a mother,"

"Well, she should take some lessons cause she sucks at it," Dili mumbled with crossed arms.

"Dili!" The driver hissed making her realize she had said her thoughts out loud.

"Sorry uncle," she muttered with a gloom. The driver sighed and pulled a hand from the wheel to pat the cornrows of the girl.

"It's okay, I understand. She should learn to talk to you and not about you," a light chuckle filled the car and for a moment, Dili felt her raging heart start to calm down.

"Are you okay?"

Or maybe not.

Dili looked up at the driver whose eyes were on the road but the hand on her head acted as a reminder that he was still with her.

"You know I hate that question,"

"I know. But there has to be a reason why people ask this even when some hate it,"

"Because they're nosy fucks,"

"Dili!"

"Sorry,"

"Despite you're wrong choice of language, you have a point but it's to actually show that they care. People who don't care wouldn't be bothered to ask that question. If it doesn't involve them, it doesn't concern them,"

But what about those that do ask but still don't care? Are they a different breed?

Dili hummed in false agreement as she gently removed the driver's hand from her head and put it back on the wheel.

"I'm gonna sleep for a bit, uncle,"

"Okay, I'll let you know when we get there," the driver said solemnly, a wry smile settled on his lips.

Dili laid her head on the glass, merely watching the vehicles and buildings go by.  Summer will soon be over and then off to avoid everybody in that leech of a school who have suddenly made it their profession to know her business.

To think that she was beyond excited for the start of summer, posting about it everywhere and now...

She couldn't wait to get at least this phase of the hellhole over.