How I Died As A Cow

Reality

The twinkle of daylight started to peak through the low blinds as my darkly lit eyes dawned upon the quietest room yet. Something about the truth terrified me to a new degree, I admit, I was afraid of what my truth was. Had I changed? Had I become the monster I realized I was turning into?

I couldn't admit it, not even to my nicest therapist yet.

Her brown eyes shined golden to the afternoon sun while the small summer fan blew at her waist. Content she watched as my vision explored the room, I breathed heavily, ready to release whatever baggage hell came with me every time I walked upon a room.

I conditioned myself on the blue sofa, my favorite color in fact. Beside stood an arched table that looked almost medieval. On top of the table there was a cup of water which I took a sip from.

I started. "Your office looks different. Wendy." I stared at my hands, hoping to seek why I felt so uncomfortable.

Wendy finally spoke. "Yes, I just had it decorated over the summer. A few weeks ago I believe."

I nodded in agreement, glancing over the shades of dim lighting exposed to certain areas of the office. The walls were painted with a beige like color, while the beautiful blooming plants danced around the place with a glorious scent.

Still, I'd advert any attention toward Wendy, for sometimes it was hard for me to make direct eye contact. Especially when I had something to hide.

Wendy opened her black notebook cover and started flipping through pages loudly. Even the fan blades couldn't compete.

"Lowell. Remember to have eye contact when we're speaking. It's a good exercise to fight insecurity. As always, this is a safe place. I'm not like your other therapists."

"Because you actually talk to me." I dished out quickly, finally making contact with Wendy's windy blue eyes. She seemed to be quite down lately, perhaps she was weeping earlier.

My therapist took a note on the paper and closed the notebook, setting it aside from the scene. I watched intently.

"Lets start with something new. It's a practice I've been wanting to try for a while..." my head leveled suspiciously. Wendy wrapped her leg around the other as she slid her pen between her ear.

"I won't write anything down." Wendy went on. "You and I discuss only one topic of choosing and only that. I want to help you conquer a painful memory today." She smiled.

"Okay." I nodded, fidgeting in my seat. I still kept the eye contact even though I felt mildly uncomfortable. "I don't know what I want to conquer."

"How about the truth? That seems to be on people's minds nowadays."

My heart gradually kicked in like an engine, finally quickening to the pulse of this conversation. Everything was moving fast, even the room the therapist said I was safe in. No, I didn't feel safe, I felt like a caged animal. And the truth definitely didn't bring salvation to struggling times.

I rubbed my knees coolly, feeling the cloth of my baby blue jeans. "The truth is stupid."

Wendy smiled a little bit, almost as she was expecting my answer. "But it happened..did it not?" You're right, I admit. I can't deny that. I can't deny reality.

"Yes. My mother's death made me into the monster I never wanted to be."

"But you aren't a monster, Lowell. People going through situations such as yourself experience the dread of wondering if all of this is real at all." I get it, just because I'm imagining things, doesn't make me a monster. I get it.

Wendy leaned in suddenly, tightening her eye contact. She was so close this time, I could smell her perfume scent emulating from the edge of her red collar. "Real talk, we all have monsters in us in some ways, but most of us are afraid to admit it."

I could tell Wendy wanted me to say it, to see that my truth was just my mind warped in a disc of sadness replaying over and over like a broken record. She wanted to crack the root of my problem. And she kept going deeper, "What happened to your mother was traumatic. So in order to cope with these intense feelings, you created a world different from your own, Lowell. That definitely doesn't make you a monster."

I finally broke the eye contact sharply, hitting the ground with my vision. This was what I was afraid of; the truth swallowing me in the process of accepting it.

"I know this might sound silly, but sometimes I still feel like that cow. Alone, depressed. But mostly dead."

An alarm buzzed off into the air as silence shattered completely. Suddenly, I didn't feel so much tension surfacing the office as Wendy had gone to grab her phone to shut the alarm off. She looked half disappointed, half relieved as she shook her head.

"Unfortunately, that's all we have time for today."

"Oh." With a few whispers to my ear as soon as I got up, Wendy embraced me with emotions. She confused me. Sometimes she felt like a family member I never had, the next she was another person looking for a way to pay for rent. I respected her though. It wasn't easy thinking in the clouds as a cow.

Waiting outside the office building was my brother who had come to pick me up. We were both travelling to live in New York, where we hoped our woes didn't follow like a trail of bread crumbs. With his denim on, he honked the car as a joke and pulled the car away every time my hand was about to land on the handle.

But it was okay because I had a plan.

When my brother finally stopped playing games, I leaned with one arm against the rolled down window, viewing his sheepish grin. "Sorry."

"Hey, remember when mom, you, and I used to eat at that diner place that reminded you of an 80s horror movie?"

It took him some time to think, but when he remembered, something in his eyes flashed. "Meet me there. I gotta tell you something."

"Not gonna join the ride along?" He patted the passenger seat.

"Nah, I have somewhere to be." I shook my head, looking at the sky.

"I need to do something first."