A Necessary Struggle: Senior Year

Chapter Six

"You need to get something off your mind?" Sylvan's gentle tone broke through the barrier of Lela's consciousness.

Lela blinked the fog of confusion away. Pulling her pupils away from the dramedy on the fifty-inch screen in the Russell family room. It was her day off and they'd been bingeing Desperate Housewives all evening.

Sylvan loved it but it wasn't the type of show Lela took a liking too. She was a freshman in high school when it premiered, watched the pilot on the couch with a bowl of popcorn in the living room of the very same house. She knew from the first eight minutes that she wasn't going to be a repeat watcher but committed to the full hour, enduring commercials since there wasn't anything better to do—it was past Nick and CJ's bedtime, Sylvan was at the hospital, and Carter was grading papers at the office.

The writing, cinematography, or acting wasn't the problem. It was the themes. Just too realistic for her. She already had enough drama in her life than she know how to deal with. She didn't need to watch Lynette's, Susan's, Bree's, and Gabrielle's. She wasn't interested in cheating husbands, lonely housewives, or ADHD kids. She wanted to escape from the issues of her life which she did with Smallville, Heroes, Lost and The 4400. But this evening she was watching it because Sylvan wanted to since CJ was on a Father-Son trip to Pedernales Falls State Park; Nick declined the offer—Lela wasn't surprised. She hadn't seen much of him lately which actually hurted a little.

"Just thinking." Lela dazedly smiled Sylvan's way before focusing on the hummus and pita chips. She didn't know who liked the stuff. A bread-like chip and a bland creamy dip. It made her mouth contort as she dove the chip into the creamy chickpeas and her tastebuds didn't do the hustle. She dropped the chip in the on the platter and pushed herself off the floor.

Sylvan watched her attentively as she plopped on the other end of the worn couch, the only decor or furniture in the house not from Crate and Barrel, Pottery Barn or Ethan Allen. Lela always wondered why but never asked. She was a little threadbare emotionally when she arrived to the Russell household so it made her comfortable, not being the only imperfect thing in that zip code.

"Hmm." Syvan hummed, the contemplative sonance she always made during sessions. She leaned over sitting her scooped cleaned bowl on the coffee table and Lela noted that a fondness for Carter wasn't the only thing that she and Safiya shared. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Lela felt the warmth from Sylvan's gaze upon her flesh underneath the collegiate hoodie, a tenderness that she wished she could earn from her own mother. "No, not really." She stuffed her frosty fingers in her pockets setting her eyes on the television. "Just planning stuff."

"What kind of stuff," Sylvan turned her body towards her and she knew that they were about to have a talk.

Lela really didn't want to talk about this particular thing with her. It touched a delicate spot and the last thing that she wanted to do was make the woman she cared for dearly remember her the things in her life that brought her pain.

"This is your favorite part." Lela gestured to the television.

"Easy fix." She fished the remote out of the space between the couch cushions, pointed it and the scene froze. "Now, elaborate."

Lela groaned, tilting her head. "We're not in the office." The homey ambiance emitting from the candid familiar black and white photography adoring the sisal walls was miles from the professional motif of Sylvan's office.

"We don't have to be in my office to have a conversation." She let the fleece shawl clip from her shoulder. "If something's bothering you, you can always talk to me. You know that."

"I do." Lela sighed to herself, pulling the sleeves down to cover her hands. The house was always cold at night, when the sun went down and the air-condition stayed at a frigid seventy-five. It felt good during the day but after seven p.m. it took her back to a place she didn't want to visit, back to winters in Chicago and stays in the institution. A uncertain, vulnerable, and hesitant place.