Someone New

Chapter Twenty One

One of my favorite things about cold January weather is the surprise spring days. Every once in a while, in the midst of swirling snow and cloudy gray skies, life will throw us a bone in the form of warm weather, chirping birds, and the promise that the cold will not last much longer. One of my least favorite things about surprise spring days is that it encourages literally every person in town to leave their homes and venture out, ultimately overcrowding me when I'm trying to enjoy a Saturday mocha from my favorite window of my favorite coffee shop.

The door chimes, signalling that yet another person has trespassed upon my peace, bringing more unwanted body heat into the cafe. I try not to pay too much attention to the gathering mass around the cash register; if I do, the customers will know for sure how much I would prefer them to leave, and apparently that's rude. I bury my nose further into my book, A Walk to Remember by Nicholas Sparks. A tear threatens to spill down my cheek, and I swallow down my fiction-caused emotions with a sip of my coffee, grateful that it has finally cooled down enough to enjoy.

"Uh, excuse me," a voice hesitantly floats from over my shoulder.

I glance toward the source, and take in a somewhat short man in jeans and a sweater vest with dark rimmed hipster glasses, holding a steaming latte.

"I hate to bother you, but your table has the only available chair in this place."

My gaze swings over to the chair perched across the table from my own, void of any intruders. Not quite sure of what the man wants, I look back at him questioningly.

He chuckles. "Would you mind terribly if I share your table with you? I promise I won't be a pest."

"Um, sure," I gesture toward the seat. "Feel free."

He smiles gratefully and sits, flipping through a magazine within seconds. I try to make it through another page of my novel, but I just can't focus.

"What do you do for a living?" The question surprises me. I hadn't planned on engaging the man. I guess my mind needed a break from all of its distracted musings.

"Uh, well, first of all, hi! I'm Dan," he responds brightly, albeit surprised by my question. "I'm a counselor. And you're a student, I presume?"

I nod. "I graduate in just a few months. Graphic design."

He chuckles. "I can't say I relate to that field much. I was all Psych, all the time."

"So, you talk to people for a living?" I ask.

"Not really," Dan explains. "Mostly I just listen. People don't want advice as much as they think they do."

"What do they want from counseling, if they're not there for the advice?"

"Well, I provide a safe place to land. Sometimes it helps people more just to hear their problems out loud. Some people just need a place to come where somebody won't judge them. People don't necessarily want to be fixed. They just want to be understood."

I nod, absorbing this information. I had always thought that counseling was more for people with actual problems, or mental illnesses. It had never occured to me that people may go just to work through their personal struggles.

"You know, if there's anything you want to talk about, I'm available. Coffee shop sessions are free today," he says with a smile.

"Did somebody send you here on purpose?" I ask jokingly.

"Nah, but really. I love what I do, and if you want a kind of 'sample session,' I'm game. I don't have plans for an hour, at least."

"How does this work? I just... talk? And you just listen?"