The weekend came and went and soon it was Monday. Leigh was in my room yelling for me to get up in her always-cheery voice. My dad was gone at work meaning today Leigh would be taking me to group therapy.
We met Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Cleo ended the meetings at four in the afternoon and said we could get there any time after noon. If I had the choice of what time I’d get there, it would be five minutes before four. But my dad and Leigh didn’t see it that way. They wanted me to get there at twelve-thirty and stay until four, thinking that the more I was there the better chance I had of getting better.
“Come on, hon!” Leigh said, throwing open the black curtains I had requested when we first moved here. I hated having the littlest bit of sun shine through and wake me up from my slumber. “You have therapy today!”
I stayed lying on my stomach but opened my eyes a bit. If I had the energy I would have gotten up and shut the blinds and shoved Leigh out of my room. Sadly, I was stuck with giving her the best death glare I could muster which she returned with a mocking scrunched up face.
“I made omelets this morning, come on. You always like those. I even made the sausage gravy with them.” She beamed at me, a hopeful look in her eyes that her bribery would get me out of bed.
My stomach silently rumbled and I clutched it hoping to stop the tremor from getting louder. The omelets did sound good right now; I hadn’t had one in a while. As much as I hated to say it, Leigh did make good omelets too.
Slowly I swung my feet onto the floor and stretched my arms above my head and yawned silently. Leigh gave me a thrilled smile and walked out of my room; saying to be down in five minutes otherwise the eggs would get cold.
When I could hear her walking around downstairs setting things down on the table, I walked out of my room and into the bathroom. I made sure to avoid looking in the mirror and picked up a hair brush from the counter and quickly pulled it through my dark brown locks.
As I brushed away the snarls, I couldn’t help noticing from the corner of my eye the long pink scar that was visible where my sleeve was falling away from my wrist. It was jagged and angry looking; it seemed as if someone had been in a lot of pain and were rushing to finish their deed. That was exactly what had happened.
Looking away from the scar, I finished brushing my hair and set them hairbrush back down on the counter, and left the bathroom, shoving the thoughts of my scar out of my mind. It was something so ugly I wouldn’t wish it on anyone’s body.
Leigh was setting down my omelet on the table when I came downstairs. She gave me a smile, and stepped back so I could pass her to my seat. As soon as I sat down she poured the sausage gravy over my omelet. Its rich smell wafted up into my nose and I watched it ooze all over my omelet.
Picking up my fork, I cut into the omelet. Inside there was cheese all gooey and the perfectly pink ham steaming in there. I pushed the first bite into my mouth and savored the flavor. The warmth of it went through my whole body making the hunger I had been feeling slowly ebb away.
“So are you excited to go back to group therapy today?” Leigh said trying to make a conversation.
Pursing my lips I shrugged. Typically I would have ignored her question, but today I was feeling generous and did give some sort of answer.
“You know, while you’re gone today I was thinking about doing a little bit of fall cleaning,” she said changing the subject. “This place gets so dusty so quickly. I’ll probably pull the ladder out and dust the tops of the bookcases; I haven’t done that in a while. Maybe I’ll clean out the kitchen cupboards as well…”
For the rest of breakfast Leigh chatted away about all the cleaning she would be doing and what she was going to make for dinner and everything else she planned on doing with the rest of her life.
After breakfast I cleared my spot, much to her surprise and went back upstairs to shower and dress. In an hour and a half I would be at therapy and being asked to talk about my thoughts and feelings.
“You have a good day, hon, okay?” Leigh called out to me as I slammed the car door.
Walking through the parking lot I pulled my coat a little closer around me, feeling a cool breeze; fall was coming quickly. I pulled open the door and walked in.
Everyone was there already. The clack of my heels hitting the wood floor filled the small studio type room. Everyone was silent and staring at me. I ignored their stares the best I could and took my seat.
Cleo gave me a curious look, and I returned it with a glare. She was dressed in a ninety’s track suit and white ankle high sneakers.
“You aren’t coming dressed like that are you?”
I looked around and saw everyone else was in some type of sportswear. No one was not wearing an athletic type shoe, and no one was not giving me a confused look.
“On Mondays we do PE,” Cleo explained. “I guess no one told you.”
No, I thought to myself. No one did. Maybe if you knew your job you would have told me.
“Oh well, you’ll just have to do your best in those.” She motioned towards my three inch heeled black suede boots.
YOU ARE READING
Falling Colors
Teen Fiction"The unfixable; the shattered; the torn; the broken. They all come here. It's my job to remake them, because once its broken there is no going back to the way it was. It must be remade." Six individuals. Six unique stories. Five exercises. One...
