Gentlemen Only

Replay

Meredith sat rigid on the soft couch cushions; arms crossed tightly over her chest. She focused on her breathing as she watched the therapist scratch sloppy notes down in her file. Every time something was noted she grew more anxious. She couldn't tell if the notations indicated improvement, or if she'd gotten worse. Meredith loathed going to therapy. It required her to bare her very essence to a random stranger who she was supposed to innately trust, and everything about that scenario made uncomfortable itches worm their way down her arms.

Her therapist was a squat, curvy ginger with large, brown eyes and a questionable fashion sense. Coming from Meredith, that was saying something. Mumus seemed to be Janet's favorite garment of choice, and her curly red hair was always piled haphazardly on her head.

The office was welcoming enough, Meredith supposed. Lots of natural light flowed through large windows, and comfortable chairs and couches hung around to accommodate any seating arrangement. Bold colors and a bohemian style decor mirrored the eccentric personality of the therapist.

Meredith watched with bated breath as Janet tapped the pen against her tablet. Her brows were furrowed in thought.

"Go back a little for me, Meredith." She requested. "I'm having trouble understanding what set you off and sent you to me for the second time this week."

"Well." Meredith cleared her throat; a perpetual lump had set up residence back there since she'd stepped foot into the room. "He touched my arm."

Janet twitched almost imperceptibly, cocking a brow at Meredith and meeting her eyes. "Say his name, Mer. It will help you filter through what is bothering you. Recognizing the object of your discomfort is crucial if you want to move forward."

Meredith chewed her lip, pulling her arms in tighter around her. "Jet." She shivered as his name left her lips.

"Good. What did Jet do?"

"Jet." Meredith issued through clenched teeth. Uttering his name outside of the office had an odd effect on her. When they were speaking to one another at work, she could articulate perfectly well, but if anybody brought him up in passing, she suddenly forgot how to think: and speak, and breathe, no less. "He touched my arm." She murmured, heat rising in her face. Her chest felt hot as well, and she imagined she must be having a regressive episode.

Janet nodded and bobbed her head, all the while scribbling furiously on the pad. Jet was a common denominator in many of their conversations. "Has he ever touched you before?"

Meredith frowned slightly. "No, not that I can recall." She blushed, images of him caressing her arm, and their awkward embrace in the office flooded her mind. "Maybe he bumped into me once or twice, but I always manage to brush that off." She shrugged, aware that her chest was a beginning to feel tight, and she felt oddly detached from herself; a sign of an impending attack.

"And that is when you had the episode?" Janet prompted, glancing up for a moment.

"Yes." Meredith whispered, shivering slightly, barely controlling her breathing.