In your arms

May 13, 2027 - Dr. Kennedy's office - Child Psychotherapist, Los Angeles

I guess it's still a tough time for Maya. Have a great Friday and thank you for being here!

I am standing here on the sidewalk in front of an imposing and elegant building, with a concierge and plants overlooking the terraces on each floor. It is the same building where, in theory, the child psychotherapist Carina would have chosen to follow Lucia should be. At least, that's what the business card Carina gave me last week says, and that's how she seems to have yelled at me in one of our increasingly frequent arguments. I sigh, continuing to turn the card over in my hands, unsure of what to do. I still don't know if I am here because I love Carina madly and a part of me would never forgive myself for today's absence that would mean disappointing her or if I am here because deep down I also believe it is the right thing to do.

Flashback from a few nights before

Carina joins me in the kitchen as I am finishing making chamomile tea. I don't think the effect of the chamomile will do anything for my gritted teeth, clenched jaw, and tense, tired eyes. It is 3 a.m. and my nervousness is at a stellar level.

I've been home for a little over an hour: we've had a hellish day at work, an alert 4 that had been going on for three days and is finally over after being more than 24 hours on site. The hardest part absurdly was filling out the final reports, but I was so exhausted that I tried to get them done as best I could in the shortest time possible, to rush home, immediately after a restorative and especially disinfecting shower. I know Carina was worried and I couldn't wait to be able to reassure her.
Carina woke up as soon as she heard me coming and it was nice to be able to confide in her, to regain some of the complicity that seemed lost to me forever. She needed reassurance and clung to me, hiding her face several times in the crook of my neck. One thing led to another and soon we were mouth to mouth...except that as soon as my hand slipped under her shirt, screams broke the sensual atmosphere.

That's why I'm here now, in the middle of the kitchen, steaming mugs in my hand. With a grim look I extend one to Carina, who surprises me, however, when she slams it down on the table.

C < what is it, Maya?> she asks me, on the verge of exasperation.

M < nothing..> I say stupidly.

C < you're a child, Maya..> I snort.

M < can't I even get annoyed anymore if I'm interrupted while I'm trying to have sex with the woman I love?> I ask, spreading my arms almost in disbelief. Carina shakes her head and begins to list for me all the tearful questions she has received from Lucia, all the nightmare the little girl has told her... to me, honestly, the screams, which Carina herself calls "satanic" were enough: yet I can't help but be selfish. Faced with my silence, she sighs and takes a sip of chamomile tea.

C < amore..> she begins, taking another breath. < I understand you..> I interrupt her, speaking over her.

M < no, you don't understand me..> I shake my head. < you can't understand how bad I feel thinking I don't want her...> I exclaim. Carina if she's surprised doesn't show it.

C < you think I wanted all this, Maya? Do you? Do you think I wanted to burden myself with the responsibility, all of a sudden, of a daughter not my own? Do you think I wanted to change my life overnight, to adjust it to that of a child and to adjust it to your absence? Do you really think I wanted a child who wakes up in the middle of the night, sweating, panting, frightened, grieving...? Really?> I sigh, shaking my head.

M < I can't do it Carina..> and so saying, I pour the chamomile tea that I didn't even drink into the sink and leave. I'm not sure where, because going back to the bedroom would mean continuing to share space with Carina, but the guest room is now occupied by Lucia. I take refuge in the tavern then, which has remained an open construction site since Andy's death: being in the midst of those boxes and a half-broken place confronts me with the memory of Andy more vividly than ever. But maybe drowning in grief is what I need tonight.