"Are you feeling okay?"
What kind of question was that? What does "feeling okay" even means? Everyone's different. Each person has their own definition of "feeling okay", I guess... For some, it can be the feeling you get when you're finally done writing that essay two hours before the deadline. It can be taking a shower after a long day. Or go home after a funeral. Feeling okay can be when your friends finally leave your house after a sleepover. When your grandparents call to inform you that they don't have cancer. For me, feeling okay was when I did't feel anxiety or fear, or sadness.
Right then, as I was sitting in that chair at the psychiatrist's office, I couldn't help but feel a little anxious.
"I'm fine." I said as I settled in the leather chair that was making farting sounds underneath me, making this conversation even more awkward.
"Last time you told me," Amanda took her glasses off and continued "You've seen Daisy."
If it was up to on me, I wouldn't tell Amanda anything. I wouldn't even be here in the first place. But my dad pays for this. He pays for my "therapy".
"Yea." Unhuman sound came out of my mouth pointing out that I wasn't comfortable talking about it.
"How was it?" She asked and then looked directly in to my eyes. Like saying 'tell me something so we can go home'.
I honestly didn't want to meet Daisy. She was like a reminder of what I've done. But, like always, my mom insisted I needed to apologize (for like the millionth time) so I could sleep at night. I texted her and she replied surprisingly quick. She was a sweetheart. She was never mean to me even after what happened, we just stoped talking. She loved Daniel as much as I loved him and she never said it was my fault. The problem was that I thought it was.
"It was okay." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "It was more than okay. Actually, she was very good to me."
"That's great, Nova." Amanda smiled. "Why don't you meet them all? All of your friends?"
My friends? My friends hated me. My friends blamed me. They never called to see how I was doing. They didn't care. They didn't want to meet me. Why would I want to meet them?
Amanda noticed my miserable face and clapped her hands together to distract me from my thoughts.
"Nova, you need to express your feeling in some way. You need to free these emotions. Why don't you start taking art classes? I've seen the sketches in your diary. They're pretty good." She handed me my Sharing-My-Feelings diary.
The Sharing-My-Feelings diary was a deal between me and Amanda. She was my psychiatrist and in order for her to get to know me better, every day I would write in it how my day went and how I felt during it. I had an appointment every Tuesday. I'd give it to her bofore the seance and then after the seance she'd give it back so I can write again. Truth be told, I'd always wait 'til Monday night every time and made some stupid stories up about how my week went. Of course I'd make them seem truth-worthy and she'd always fall for it.
"I love art but I'm more of a reader than a writer. I enjoy the beauty of it, I can't create it." I shook my head and grinned awkwardly.
"You never know until you try." Amanda looked at the clock on the wall. "Well, our time is up."
I put my diary in my backpack and headed out the door. I couldn't feel like Amanda actually cared about how I felt because I was her obligation. I was her job. And her job was to listen to my pangs and just shake her head. Which doesn't require actually listening.
"Bye, Dr. Blue." I singed out as I closed the door to her office.
Well, that was helpful. $52 per hour for nothing. My dad decited that he can cure me by making me go to a professional. Everything started when he noticed that I couldn't get over what happened last year. He thought that what I'm feeling can be cured. That's not true. You just learn to live with it.
Speaking of the devil, I was almost in front of my house when my phone rang. I quietly sang along to my ringtone for a whole 15 seconds. "What's up, dad?"
"Can you pick your brother up?" He sounded tired. "I'll be late tonight."
"Sure."
"You can take the car if you want." Dad confidently said and ended the call.
Well, that was something. He had not let me drive a car since the accident. He even sold mine. I wasn't sure if I still remembered how to drive.
I went in my room and changed my clothes as fast as I could. I was always sweating like a pig. I had to be in front of my brother's school in 10. My hair was greasy and all disgusting so I put it in a bun and quickly went downstairs. I took the car keys from the table in the kitchen and ran through the front door.
I looked at my watch which was saying 3:55PM. I took a deep breath before getting in the car. Suddenly fear fell upon me. I started the engine and turned the radio on. Then I decided that I couldn't hear well and it could be dangerous so I turned it back off. I told myself I can do it but memories of Daniel yelling came back to me. Why do shit always happens to me?
"I can do this." I hissed.
30 minutes later I was in front of Jonah's school where he was waiting for me. He was in his basketball shorts. He was very tall for his age, unlike me, I was 5'2.
"You're late." He said as his grumpy face entered the car.
"Maybe if you weren't such a bad student that you had to go to school in the summer, I wouldn't have to pick you up and therefore, be late." I said calmly. Something that annoyed Jonah to his core.
"So, you're driving again?" Apparantly he was feeling hot because his cheeks were burning red.
"No." I sarcastically said.
"Dad is too busy so he made you take me home again, didn't he? And he let you drive because he's feeling guilty." He sounded mad and hurt while opening the window.
"Pretty much." I hated how Jonah didn't hide his feelings because I couldn't produce a reaction that would satisfy him. "Let's stop at McDonalds before going home, huh?"
Unheathy food fixes everything. Jonah turned the radio on while we were traveling back home. He was jaming to that Jason Mraz's song while I was panicking if I accidently drive off a cliff... again.
We thankfully got home safely and called my dad to inform him everything was okay. Three hours later, Jonah and I ordered pizza and loudly ate it in the living room while watching the Avengers. It was Jonah's favorite movie and I used to like it too but he had made me watch it too many goddamn times.
"There's this girl." Jonah tried to talk while chewing which didn't turned out well. Spit everywhere. Eh.
"You're twelve." I told him as the movie ended. "And chew with your mouth closed, please!"
"You know, love comes at different times in different ages." He sounded so cheesy while helping me clean up.
Jonah was so pure and innocent, he didn't have to know what love actually felt like. He didn't have to know how it eats you alive and leaves your soul empty and devastated. Not just yet.
"You have school tommorow, don't you?" I said as we went upstairs.
He shook his head and sighed. "Sadly."
"Well, I'm picking you up earlier." His face lighted up, "We're having lunch with mom and Steve tommorow." and fade quickly afterwards.
"How is Steve still alive anyway?" He said and opened the door to his room. "Night, Nova."
"Goodnight." I said as he closed the door. "Don't forget lunch tommorow!" I yelled hoping he could still hear me.
"I'm not coming. Period." He yelled back.
I went into my room where I spent the night in the gentle arms of insomnia.
