To Slow a Treacherous Heart ✓

33| The Final Stage of Grief

Date Published: Sunday, May 26th 2019

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Final Stage of Grief

         December 2018

May couldn't stifle the yawn that took possession of her in reply to the cheerful greeting Poppy, the receptionist, gave her.

She turned red she sheepishly apologized.

"Late night?" The brunette asked.

"Something like that," May replied, blinking away Thorne's manic face from her mind.

She knocked on the mahagony door before popping her head into the doctor's office.

"Good afternoon Maybelle,"

"Good afternoon Sarah," May replied, giving her a smile as she entered. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Alhamdulillah," she replied. "And are you ready for our grand finale?"

May laughed. "Do you have to be so dramatic about it?"

"Is it so hard to believe that your last therapy session should have a little pomp and flair?" Sarah replied, her dark eyes shining. She tucked her right leg under her left before pushing a loose strand of hair beneath her dark-red, chiffon hijab. "So, how are you doing?"

"Pretty good actually. Jason's doing well at school, I got accepted for a teaching job at that school yesterday and my semester grades have been up. The university is thinking of giving me a full scholarship, so I won't have to borrow money from Mrs-er Priscilla anymore. All in all, I'm doing good."

Sarah gave her a knowing smile. "You know what I'm asking about May. How is your heart?"

May sighed. "M-my heart?"

"Have you got over him?"

"Can you get over your soul mate?"

"If I believed in soul mates, then maybe I'd have a different view," Sarah smiled. "But I'm the practical kind,"

"I was too, until he showed up. Stupid Italians. They always know how to get under your skin. And stay there. For eternity."

"What about him being the killer? I thought you said you could never love the face of your killer,"

"I don't know, Sarah. Thorne did hypnotize me, I know that. But for some reason, I can't shake his face. I can't see the real picture. In my nightmares, its always been Ryan. Sometimes the image shifts, but I can't remember who I see. I don't know this is all so confusing."

Sarah tapped a pen on her note pad. "Maybe, you need to stop thinking too hard about it. Have you thought about anything else since the day he dumped you?"

"Do you have to put it like that?"

"Hayati, I'm your therapist. I need to put it like that," she replied. "Besides, having four older brothers makes you blind to all the hide and seek girls play with words,"

May laughed. She was used to Sarah's endearing Arabic terminology.

Sarah talked to her like a friend, not like some kind of shrink who kept asking, 'And how does that make you feel?'.

It was refreshing.

"Well, not exactly. But I just want to remember it the right way," May tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. "I want to remember the right killer."

Sarah pushed her dark Ray-Ban glasses up her nose. Maybelle Summers was one of the few patients she enjoyed treating. And she did it for free, which was even more invigorating. She was a challenge, and Sarah had always loved a challenge.