Icarus

10

"I brought you a present," I sing-song, waltzing into Dr. Jaeger's office.

"Gemma, dear, you do know it's the middle of February, right? Christmas was three weeks ago," Jaeger says, pulling off her glasses.

"Who says it has to be Christmas to give someone a present?" I retort. "Just open it."

She pulls the tissue paper out of the small, colorful bag and pulls out the journal inside.

"Felix helped me pick it out," I say, watching as she runs her hands over the cover. It looks exactly like mine, but hers is black. I also ordered a fountain pen with her name engraved into the silver. "They matched your fanciness." She still doesn't speak, and I begin to worry.

She finally opens the journal, and taped to the inside cover is a Polaroid of me and Felix at Christmas time, holding each other by the brightly lit tree. "I figured you could use your own journal to dump stuff into because it's helped me so much. And as much as I wanted to hate you when we started this therapy thing, you've actually brought me very far. The gift is a thank you."

She actually wipes a tear from her eye, not effecting her beautiful eyeliner job at all. Without speaking, she comes around the desk and hugs me tightly, even though I only come up to her shoulder in the gargantuan heels she's wearing. "I'll say it again: you helped yourself. Me, Felix? We just guided you. You did the work." She looks down at the journal, at the picture, again. "Thank you."

She sits down in the leather chairs that I usually sit in, and I follow suit. "So what now? You obviously need time to come to grips with the past few months, but what are you going to do during that time?"

"Right now, I'm homeschooling. I should be able to have my GED by the time everyone else starts their senior year." I look down at my fingernails. "I'm not ready to face those girls again because everything is so delicate, but I'd like to try other people."

"That's good. Not everyone will be those people." She nods. 

"I've joined a writing club, so I have a hobby now." I hold up my own journal and flip through the inked pages. There are only a couple blank ones left at the end of the book. "I like to write what I know."

"And after that? In the fall?"

"I want to try college. Not here, but I don't know if I'll be ready to be without my support system here."

"You don't have to make the hard decisions now. Taking it one day at a time is just as good, too." She touches my hand. "And I'll still be here if you need to schedule a session or two for advice. That is my job, after all."

She stands up before continuing. "One last piece of advice, then. Wherever you go, be your own person. Easier said than done, I know, but you can do it. You are beautiful no matter what you look like. I won't tell you it's the inside that counts, because insides can be ugly, too. Just know that you are your own person, and flaunt that knowledge because there's only one of you."

"Wow, Doc. Way to end the story on a cliche," I deadpan.

"Sometimes cliches get through better."