The Girl Who Said No (GirlxGirl)

2.0

I sip tentatively at my tea, impatiently crossing and uncrossing my legs. Thirty minutes late. Who pays hundreds of dollar for an hour long appointment only to miss the first thirty minutes? Today I'm supposed to meet with Brookyln and probably set her up with a nutritionist and find the root of the issue-the usual routine basically. It's pretty standard, we have a list of stages denial, acceptance, anger, and bargaining. They come in no particular order but we wait patiently for them, crossing them off our notepads and by the end of the day we can say they've done everything they need to go through in order to begin the process of healing.

Fundamentally, it's quite simple. They come, we sit, I listen, and we do what we can to fix the situation (or our minds) whether that means just talking or medications it doesn't matter. Her being late can mean an abundance of things. One being that she's just running late; though I find that is hardly ever the case. Two, she's decided against coming because she's in denial of her issues. Or 3, her poor choices have caught up with her and she is lying on the ground somewhere. Of course there are many other possibilities but those are the ones it usually boils down to. I sincerely hope that it is former. If it were number two then, there's nothing I can do to help her if she doesn't come. And if it's three there may not be anyone left to heal.

But luckily hope isn't completely lost, because all but 5 minutes later a knock comes to the door-a petite brunette standing behind it.

"Hello, you must be Brooklyn." I say offering my hand, a smiled stretched across my face as I open the door for her.

"And you must be the shrink that thinks there is something wrong with me." she smiles, cocking her head to the side. 

"Do you think there is something wrong with you?" I ask, as I gesture her to sit down with me.

"I think...that I'm not supposed to do your job for you." she chuckles faintly as she slowly paces back and forth behind the couch.

"That would be correct-though it sure would make things a lot easier wouldn't it?" I laugh.

She shrugs, her bony shoulders empathizing the movement. "I suppose, but you wouldn't accept my answer unless you came to that conclusion yourself." she pauses. "Isn't that right Tayla?"

"It's Dr. Wilson." I correct her, narrowing my eyes at her. I can't help but wonder if this case may be more than I had originally anticipated. I pull out my notepad and scribble a few of my observations.

Deflects.

Denial.

Paces.

"Perhaps you would like to sit down?" I ask, motioning towards the vacant couch in front of me.

"Is that a suggestion or an order your highness?" she remarks, quirking her brow and pretending to bow. Well, she's something isn't she? Very theatrical for one. 

"It's however you would like to take it Brooklyn." I reply as my eyes follow her pacing. Back. Forth. Again and again. "You can sit, you can stand, everything that happens here is up to you."

She snorts, crossing and uncrossing her arms. Interesting. "Are you nervous Brooklyn?"

"No,"  she huffs, breaking her eye contact with me. "I'm just not eager to become the next nut to crack."

"What do you mean?" I frown. The next nut to crack? 

Walking up to my desk she grabs a picture frame. It's the one that holds a picture of my brother and I when we went snowboarding last year. We were both in college at the time. It feels like centuries since then. "All you doctors like to talk about us as if we are just some game and you are all competing against each other. I'm sorry if I'm not eager to spill to you my whole life's story just so you can run and tell your friends."