Girlfriend

22. The Couch

Michael calls me as I'm reluctantly getting dressed for what my day has planned for me. It's the day of the stupid therapy session my mom set up because she finally realized I'm not happy.

"Do you maybe wanna go with LaToya and me to go dancing for my birthday?" he asked as I slipped on my shoes.

"Sure. That sounds fun."

"It is. Maybe you'll smile for me?"

"We'll see."

"Cathy Jean, let's go!" Mom yelled from downstairs.

"I have to go. I might swing by your place later," I said, checking my reflection in the mirror.

"Ok. I'll see you then."

I hung up and ran downstairs before Mom could open her mouth to call me one more time. I swear, I'm going to move out of this house one day so I'll never have to hear her again.

The drive is dead silent. There's no noise whatsoever. The radio is off, the widows are up, and our mouths are shut. I keep my gaze focused on the road even though I'm not the one driving.

My mom keeps glancing at me as if I'm going to do something spontaneous when she knows I don't want to see her face. I want to tell her to concentrate on driving but I don't want to talk to her at all.

I think about Michael and the kiss we shared the other day just to feel a warm bliss overcome me. His lips on mine filled me to the brim with love. He held me so tight and kissed me with rough but loving lips. I wanted more but I didn't want to overstep any boundaries.

My daydream is abruptly interrupted but my mom slamming her car door shut. We had arrived at the therapist's office.

After my mom filled out an excessive amount of forms we were finally allowed to sit down in the waiting room chairs and relax, somewhat. I picked at my unpolished fingernails as my mother flipped through a magazine. Typical for us.

"Cathy Jean Jones?"

I sighed and stood up faster than my mom did. I just wanted to get this over with.

"My name is Dr. Moore, nice to meet you." She put out her hand which I shook. "Would you like mom to join you today or do you want her to sit this one out?"

"I don't care," I sighed, knowing that this therapy session wasn't going to go well either way.

"I'll stay this time," Mom concluded. "Just to see the first session."

"Okay! Follow me."

She led us to her dimly lit room in the back with the scent of pumpkin spice wafting through the air. It was supposed to be relaxing but the tension from the car followed my mom and I into her little safe haven.

"Have a seat," she said, gesturing to the couch with way too many pillows.

My mom wanted to sit right next to me. I gave her a look and she sat on the other end of the couch.

"So tell me about yourself," Dr. Moore insisted, sitting back in her lofty chair.

"I'm obviously not doing well since I'm talking to you," I retorted.

"Okay..." Dr. Moore gave me a little smile and shifted in her seat. "I mean, what do you like to do?"

"I like dancing," I replied.

"Wonderful! What kind of dance?"

"Ballet."

"That's beautiful. How long have you been doing that?"

"Since I was a little girl, I guess."

This is not social hour. Why is she asking all these leisurely questions?

"Does dancing make you happy?" she inquired.

"Okay, look, doctor, I've been unhappy for all my life and dancing does absolutely nothing to help my situation. You can stop beating around the bush because I'm here for a reason so prescribe some antidepressant or something and quit with these little introductory questions," I spat.

"Cathy Jean," Mom hissed from the other side of the couch. I honestly don't care how upset she is with me right now.

"No, no, it's okay. She's expressing her feelings. That's normal," Dr. Moore explained.

My mom shook her head, quite embarrassed with my behavior. I felt pretty good so far. It's nice to be able to say what you feel without getting reprimanded.

"So tell me why you're so unhappy. What's bothering you?" Dr. Moore questioned, leaning in slightly.

I glanced at my mom and she looked away. I guess it's okay to talk about this then.

"I just miss my dad," I said, telling myself to keep it together.

"Tell me more."

"He just tied my family together and I miss him a ton," I replied as memories of my father drifted in and out of my mind.

"May I ask what happened to him?"

I looked at my mother one last time, her eyes glassy and cold. We stared at each other for a split second before I broke the gaze.

"He was taken away from us. I mean, he was here and then he was gone. It happened so fast and I lost everything in three seconds..."

Word were just falling out of my mouth and I couldn't control my tongue. The room became cloudy as tears fogged up my eyesight and pretty soon, I just lost it. My mom closed her eyes as Dr. Moore handed me a tissue box.

"It's alright, sweetie..."

"No it's not alright!" I screamed. "Everyone always says that things are gonna be okay when they know for damn sure things aren't okay! I've been feeling this way for years and that's all I've ever heard. If someone you loved was stolen from you would you want people to act like the world still spins and life goes on? My life hasn't been the same since I was six years old. I'm a legal adult now and from the looks of it, I'm gonna be depressed forever because my dad's dead. I know he is!"

"Cathy Jean!" Mom hollered, fresh tears gliding down her heated, brown cheeks.

"He's been gone for over ten years, Mom, I think he's dead!"

"Hey, don't say that," Dr. Moore said, patting my back. "There's always hope. That's enough for today. I think you two have some issues you need to work out and you can always make an appointment to come see me if you would like."

"Thank you," Mom whispered, standing and grabbing her purse.

"As for you, Cathy Jean, I'll see you next week." Dr. Moore tried to smile but I could tell she was thinking we were crazy.

Mom and I walked out of that building so fast. The drive is dead silent. There's no noise whatsoever. The radio is off, the widows are up, and our mouths are shut. I keep my gaze focused on the road even though I'm not the one driving.

A/N: Ayyeee I got an update up let's go🙌🏾