Fray

2.

Chapter 2

She had an abnormally large clock on her wall. It made a very irritating subtle ticking sound. We sat across from each other, the air thick with awkwardness. It was like this every week. Therapy is not like it is portrayed in the movies. I sat across from her on a couch that was comfortable enough to semi-relax but not enough to fall asleep. She stared at me. Analysing me. Her glasses were perched on the tip of her nose. I knew that she was probably waiting for me to say something. I never did.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked with a fake smile that all therapists seemed to have.

"I'm okay,'' I lied. I was the furthest thing from okay today but I didn't want to spend an hour saying things I've already said a thousand times.

"You're still taking your meds?"

"Yes."

She wrote this down on her green notepad. She was always writing stuff down, in fact she spent more time writing stuff down than she spent speaking to me. So we spoke and she wrote down almost everything we said just like we did every week. I didn't make a break through today. I didn't sob and discover a deep, hidden truth about myself. I was unproductive and I didn't even care. I hated myself when I became like this. When I became an unmotivated mess. I couldn't do anything, on really bad days I was practically tied to my bed. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. I was the living, breathing poster child for depressed teens.

                                                                                          ****

I stood in the queue holding a singular bottle of milk. I was extremely irritable, being forced out of bed tended to do that to me, and wanted nothing more than to get out this this cheese smelling, fluorescent hellhole. The cashier was one of those annoying pimple faced teens that still managed to keep up a happy-go-lucky front despite the fact that they were spending their Saturday afternoon in a grocery store. I was probably a bit harsh to the poor guy but I just wasn't in the mood to laugh at his terrible jokes. The store wasn't too far from my house, however, it just so happened to be literal hell on earth today. I solemnly trudged up the road feeling like a piece of discarded gum that could never fully melt. I was so close to home now I could see it weltering amongst the epic heat waves and then I saw him... at first I thought that it must have been some sort of mirage. Three years since I last saw him. I couldn't care less about getting home now I was much too interested in this sudden turn of events. So I followed him, like any sane, curious, person would've done. I probably could've just walked up to him and said hi but for some reason something held me back. I continued to stalk him at a distance, he was heading towards the forest and images of him hiding a body flashed in my mind. I had begun to create a story in my head. A story of a dark, twisted, mysterious boy how suddenly disappears off the face of the earth. Everyone had theories the usual "he dropped out of school and is now in rehab" kind of theories, none of which I actually listened to.

Axel Clement was my friend, we weren't the kind of friends that had super deep conversations about all the issues in our lives but we were friends. When he left without any explanation I was more confused than heartbroken. Obviously I tried to contact him, what kind of a person would I be if I didn't? I gave up after two months of constant unanswered texts and phone calls. He suddenly came to an abrupt stop it took me a second to realize what was going on but it's safe to say I was more than shocked when I realized exactly where we were. My spot, and no this wasn't a spot that we shared for years and years where spilled secrets were soaked into the soil. It was my spot. Not a single person knew about this and I guess it's a bit naïve to believe that out of 7.125 billion people I was the only person to call this place my spot but it annoyed me that bloody Mr. Unoriginal has decided to reappear out of the blue and steal it. I couldn't just stand back and watch this happen, so I didn't.

"You need to leave," I somewhat unintentionally spoke.

He jumped about a meter in the air obviously frightened by my unannounced presence.

"Chrysanthia? Is that you?"

"No, I'm a talking tree. Of course it's me you idiot," I couldn't explain my sudden outburst of sarcasm.

His eyes lit up and a smile spread across his face which I realized for the first time was sporting some sort of stubble.

"What are doing? Why are you smiling like that? Did you hear me Ax? Leave. Now,"

"I missed you buds," he said in his raspy voice as he pulled me into a hug.

I realised that he lost weight since the last time I saw him. His skin was like ice compared to the thick heat that wrapped around us like an uncomfortable woolen blanket. His eyes were sort of sunken as though he had been through hell and back in these past three years. I felt bad now for snapping at him. I never fully realised just how much I had missed him until he held me in his arms. He smelt the way he has always smelt. Like semi-fresh laundry. In some ways Ax and I were better friends that me and Amber. We were real friend, we never questioned each other's motives, never forced each other to be someone we weren't and I loved that about us. I decided against kicking him out of my spot. Only because I really missed and I couldn't think of a better place to catch up. We sat and we talked for hours. Until the sun began to set and streetlights went on, and in that time not once did I ask him about where he had been and he didn't ask me about therapy because we realised a long time ago that we are more than our temporary crappy experiences.