“How do you feel?”
It took me a moment to come up with an answer. How did I feel?
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
Tired. Done. Hopeless.
Dr. Fitz nods, then writes something down on her clipboard. I am careful to look away while she is writing, but at the same time I am curious as to what she thinks. I didn’t and never really do provide her with enough information to come to a solid conclusion; that would be too final for my tastes.
“And you’ve been taking your meds? Everyday?” She peers over the rims of her large spectacles.
“Yeah.” No. Medicine wasn’t really my thing.
“How do you want to feel, Arden?”
That stumps me. For quite some time, the only wish I’d had was to be gone. I hadn’t really considered the option of my future; it had for so long seemed like a fantasy.
“Fine.” I finally answer, pulling at a loose thread on the chair.
She writes something down, the pauses to take a deep breath.
“That’s the end of our session today, Arden.”
I breathe a sigh of relief and begin to stand up, but she isn’t finished.
“Focus on your ‘fine’, until next time.”
I nod, and then turn the doorknob and enter the waiting room. She closes the book she’d been reading and stands up, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a hug, habitual to the conclusion of my therapy session. Her breathing is gentle, steady. She is my constant in the sea of variables.
“I’ll go schedule your next session, and then dinner?”
As she pulls away, I nod, unable to keep myself from smiling. She approaches the front desk and I lean against the wall near the door.
My mom has always been this way. Happy. Steady. Understanding. Firm yet gentle. I liked her for those reasons. She was there to talk when I needed, yet she understood when I needed to be left alone. Her nature shone through in her very demeanor; she smiled at the receptionist as she spoke, jovial and bright. Maybe that’s why the matter of how she fell in love with a man like my father stumps me even to this day.
“Hello!” A muffled voice chirps.
I have been so wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the little girl and what I assumed to be her mother standing outside the glass door… that I’d been blocking for quite some time.
Heat wells up in my cheeks as I fumble with the doorknob, opening it wide for them as apologies tumble from my lips. The girl giggles. The woman simply rolls her eyes and rushes over to the receptionist’s desk and stands behind my mother. This is not an anomaly of a first impression; she seems the type to be rushing.
“How are you?”
The little girl looks up at me with a pair of bright blue eyes, a grin spreading across her face.
“I’m fine.” I state, remembering Dr. Fitz’s suggestion. “Fine.”
“Ooh, I’m fine too, ‘kay?” She chuckles, and I can’t help but join in. The moment is so absurd, it’s lovely.
“Anastasia, get over here!” The little girl, now with a name, rolls her eyes but obeys, and joins her impatient mother.
“Hey, chica.” My mom says, walking towards me.
I nod at her. “Dinner still on?”
She opens the door and a blast of cold air rushes in, making me shiver.
“You betcha.”
As I walk out, I catch Anastasia’s eye.
She is still grinning.
I am too.
