Her (Episode 1/3)

therapy

THE ROOM IS trapezoid-shaped. All wood panels and smelling of the earth, oak, cinnamon candles, and the occasional herbal tea that has left its scent into the burgundy rugs. Dust particles float, suspended in the streams of evening sun piercing through the windows. Doctor Burrows is pale and thin, stern, studious creases etched forever into his lean face. He must be in his late fifties, I think, but still handsome the way some men grow more appealing with age. So seasoned... so wise...

His salt and pepper brows raise often and he looks at me unendingly perplex as if I'm the one piece of the puzzle he can't seem to fit together. I want to tell him not to try. There is no use. I'm doomed to be morose and bitter over my sister's marriage and the pending one of Wonda. She just told me yesterday, voice all high-pitched, that her boyfriend popped the question. Then there is Harry Vancamp, who was supposed to be mine, ready to tie the knot in a couple of months.

Sitting on the brown, leather armchair opposite my therapist, I jab the heels of my palms into my eyes and shake, sobbing severely. "I want out of this skin. I don't want to be here anymore."

I didn't wear my prosthetics to the session, only the nicer wig. This man has known me for years. I look at him for a moment. See his gentle, though no-nonsense expression that sobers his weathered face. "But I love Becky. And she wants me to be here. I met a boy.... A man... Nevermind... I ran away... Love... I love Becky... She...she tells me it's okay all the time."

Dr. Burrows smiles gravely. "What did Becky tell you yesterday when Wonda disclosed the proposal?"

I sob-gasp, wiping at my tear-streaked face. The salt burns my eyes. "Th-that everything will be okay. That I should be happy. That I can find happiness somehow. That I have happiness. I went swimming in the lake and it was all around me." I sob greatly. "It w-was all around me," I hiccup.

Dr. Burrows nods calmly, his blue eyes quietly expressive, the most I've ever seen them. He's telling me he hears me. He's telling me that he's in my and Becky's corner. Maybe this time he won't fight me about holding on to her.

"How exactly did you feel when Wonda broke the news, Tinsley?"

I look down at his polished shoes, as neat and worn, and sturdy as he is. I wonder if Dr. Burrows ever cries, ever has a sleepless night, has ever ached in his heart over a lost lover. I note his simple wedding band. Is she the only woman he'd ever loved? What was his journey to get to her? And will she be the only woman he ever loves? I look at Dr. Burrows' lips. Half-parted and patient. I know he might have never raised his voice at her. For he is perfect. And she must be, too. Dr. Burrows. I want to call him by his first name. Bryan. I want to close the distance between us.

"Tinsley?" he resurfaces me from my unwarranted lust, craving for closeness. Intimacy. I look up, startled. My false lashes flutter and I feel that my eyes are still wet. I sigh, lacing my fingers together and dropping my gaze, ashamed.

"You never need to feel embarrassed with me," he says. I feel the heat of his eyes. Can psychologists see through you? What exactly do they study in school? Can they detect and read every nuance in your body language and know your words, your thoughts, before you even speak them? I look back up at Dr. Burrows and his sage eyes tell me yes and no. He's only human. He's just here to help me. I look away quickly, once again embarrassed by my own creepiness.

I swallow dryly, looking anywhere but at Dr. Burrows's all-knowing gaze. "I felt angry when Wonda told me," I whisper. "I felt hurt. I felt more alone. I felt more hopeless than I've ever felt... I felt left out. I felt betrayed."

"Hmmm... Betrayed," he says, like we've come to some conclusion. When my wet eyes aim back at him, he's nodding. Now he rests his chin on one fist, looking at me as if he's just had an ah ha moment.