Maid in Ink [PUBLISHED]

Chapter One

It's like learning to walk, or to read, or doing anything new for the first time. The frustration of not getting it the first time, but practicing and practicing until you finally achieve doing it. Then soon enough you're running instead of walking, not only reading, but speed reading, and it comes with ease.

That's what I want. The easiness.

Graduating from college was only mildly easy. I struggled in some classes, but passed effortlessly in others. What made it hard was being away from my friends and family. School was only a few hours away from home, but that didn't make it any less hard. I hardly saw my Aunt Jade, or my best friend Casey, or my other friend Anthony. Some weekends we'd visit each other, where I'd drive to them, or they'd drive to me. Then it got really difficult once everyone started working different hours, working on homework, and having a life outside of each other. It was anything but easy.

Being away from Casey was like being separated from my sister. I've known her since we were nine years old in third grade coloring our way through science and math. Casey has been there for me through it all and sometimes I'm a terrible friend, but we always find a way back to each other. My platonic soulmate, someone I can always count on for the rest of my life.

She was especially there for me when I lost my parents. I could have amputated a leg, caught a foreign disease, or something else horrific, and the pain and fear would not have equaled that which I felt when they died. My entire world crashed down and all I could do was try to pick up the pieces to put it all back together again. It was never the same. The foundation I'd built with my parents, my one and only family, was irreplaceable.

It was hard to talk about them in the beginning. I struggled with my own identity after that. Who was I going to be as a person, growing up without the people who were supposed to give me lifelong advice? Of course, parents are always supposed to pass before their kids, but I still needed mine. Our lives weren't through with each other.

These thoughts, the memories of them, though they are heartbreaking, they get me through the day.

I discuss them with my therapist, and I truly put my entire trust in her. Dr. Harrison has heard it all from me and she always manages to give me a peace of mind.

My time is almost up in this appointment. I've basically been telling her what I've learned along the way since my parents died, reiterating some things. She listens intently and I know she's really interested when her brows come together not in a frown, but almost a thinking mode.

She takes her glasses off her nose and places them on her head, where the gray hair is starting to sprout into her brown locks. "Grief can manifest itself differently in every one around us, as we've discussed before. There's no straight line through each stage, and sometimes one stage lasts longer than the other. It's interesting to hear you discussing it as a relearning process rather than a grieving one." Her voice has always come off very professional, and always so soothing. "Relearning about love, relearning about life, these are things people don't catch onto quickly. You're doing well, I know it."

I feel the smile coming through and I can't stop it. "Thank you," I tell her.

She glances at her watch and writes something down in her notes. "I think we should meet sometime in August. Does that sound okay?"

There's only a couple more days before June ends. "That late?" I ask her. We usually do monthly meetings, but skipping the entire month of July makes me a little uneasy.

"Sometimes it might feel like the world is coming down on you, but it really only lasts a few minutes. If that feeling lasts longer, call my secretary for another meeting in July," she nods. "You're doing all you can do, and you're doing great."