Beautiful bruises

Dr. Parker

'After physical trauma, small blood vessels- also called capillaries- may burst under the surface of the skin. Typically causing discoloration and minor pain. Bruises are typically black and blue, variations of yellow and purple are also common.'

I look up from my laptop and catch another glimpse of the barista at the counter.

I continue typing

'Also possibilities of internal trauma cause severe bruises.'

I finish my coffee, pack up and walk out into the crowded sidewalk.

I pass by so many happy faces with sad bodies.

Cuts and bruises scatter every face.

Some are open about the problems they face within their own heads.

Others, not so much. Like the barista, she served me with a wide smile that could have fooled anybody else.

Not me.

The bruises and cuts across her face showed it all. The emotional baggage she's been carrying around with her for so long.

For too long.

I wish I could have helped her. Asked her what was bothering her. Offered her my business card.

I would have scared her. It's happened before; I offer somebody help when they think nobody can see what's wrong. They think that they've hidden it well enough.

They never can.

It's too obvious.

I call them scars. As people get over the issues they deal with, they don't just disappear.

They change into a memory of sorts. The injury scars over. It only fades. Never forgotten, just hazy.

I've never met anybody older than 15 who hadn't had at least one scar. It's too rare these days.

I stop at the corner and wait in the ocean of others waiting to cross the street.

Taxis wiz past at the speed of light.

The sign across the street turns from a red x into a walking green man.

We move like a school of fish across the street.

We disperse when we reach the other side.

After a lengthy walk, I reach my office building.

I push open the large glass doors and head for the elevator.

Floor 11.

The elevator stops at the seventh floor.

As the doors slide open, a rather tall man steps into view.

Something was oddly charming about this strange man. He has dark eyes and hair to match. He was wearing a pair of dark Levi's, a white shirt, and a grey cardigan.

I couldn't see any visible injuries.

Or scars for that matter.

I let the thought slip my mind. I had already been staring for too long.

He steps into the elevator and doesn't hit any buttons.

"Going to eleven?"

"Yes, actually. I'm here to see Dr. Parker."

He looks at his watch

"She's on eleven right?"

I laugh

"Yes I am." I reach out my hand

"Oh, ha, sorry. I've been looking for a new therapist and I found your card on the ground of the coffee shop I work at. I thought I would give it a try. My name's Ace." He laughs and shakes my hand.

"Ah, that's alright." I attempt to chat as the elevator doors shut us in together.

The conversation dies down and we wait in silence until we reach the eleventh floor.

We exit the elevator and walk to my office.

I unlock the door.

As we start our session Ace removes his cardigan to reveal large unhealed bruises and gashes along his arms, leading up his shirt sleeves.

Too much trauma for one man to handle alone.

"Oh dear" I whisper under my breath. I'd never seen anything like this before.

"Yeah, I know." He responds.