In My Dreams

Fly away

Birds twittered and sung a sweet tune outside Clara's office window. She wanted to float away with the music. She watched a robin perch itself by the window. They exchanged a look then it flittered away. A sigh unintentionally left her lips. 

"Can you believe that?! The nerve on him! I feel like he never listens to me! He complains that I nag at him all day! I'm a woman! I have needs! I deserve attention! Right? Right?! Hello?!" her client screeched. 

Clara blinked back to reality and turned to her client. She sat up in her seat, her notepad perched in her lap. "Yes, of course, Mrs. Steward. Why don't we, um, set an appointment for next week to bring your husband in with you and we can practice some good communication exercises."

"Is my time up already?!" Mrs. Steward scowled. She had dirty blonde cropped hair and pale skin. Her cheeks were completely covered in blemishes and she had well-set wrinkles around her mouth. She sat strikingly sharp in a purple blouse, business skirt, and scrubs. 

Clara peeked at the clock behind her client, on the wall. She almost sighed with relief. "Unfortunately, yes, our time is up. Thank you for coming in today, Mrs. Steward. You can set your appointment with Miss Lavender at the receptionist desk. Have a nice day." She stood up and raised her hand to shake Mrs. Steward's hand. 

Mrs. Steward ignored her and stormed out. Clara let out a long breath and spilled into her armchair. She fantasized about laying on her couch in her fuzzy panda pajamas with a cup of hot pumpkin spice tea and her cat, Salem, on her lap. Her heart rate slowed. Then, she heard a faint knock at the door. She groaned and rubbed her forehead. "Yes?" she called. 

"Dr. Thompson?" Miss Lavender peeked into the office. She had kind eyes and an apologetic look. She had dark brown curly hair, plump mahogany cheeks, and hazel eyes. Clara felt at ease, at first, to see her dear friend and receptionist, but her expression set her on edge. "She was sure a handful, wasn't she?" A smile crept on her full lips. 

Clara almost smiled. "She's certainly a character. Has she set her appointment?"

"Took forever to find a date she was happy with, but yes. Honestly, I don't know how you deal with such nut cases."

"Not nut cases, Miss Lavender. Just people lost in their way from love in their life. Marriage is hard. Sometimes, they just need a little help to remember how things were in the beginning of the relationship."

Miss Lavender rolled her eyes and grinned, "Well, if Marriage turns me into her, remember to give me a good kick in the ass and bring me back to Earth." 

Clara and Miss Lavender erupted in laughter. "So, what did you need?" Clara rose an eyebrow, with a wide grin. 

"Ah! Mr. Thompson called you!" Clara's smile vanished. She quickly stood up and placed her notepad on her desk. "He requested you call him back. He said it was an emergency."

"T—thank you, Miss Lavender. I—I'll get to that right now." Clara fumbled with her jet black wavy hair and patted down her navy blue skirt. She adjusted her crisp white blouse tucked into her skirt. Then, she picked up her office phone. 

"I'll leave you to it then," Miss Lavender rose her eyebrows and slowly closed the door. 

"Y—yes, I'd like to be extended to Mr. Andrew Thompson. Yes, thank you." Clara sat in her office chair, her fingers twitching on her desk. Her large office window shone bright sunlight from behind her, lighting up her desk. She tried to focus on its soothing warmth on her back. She tried to calm her breathing. She swallowed a lump in her throat. 

"You have reached Thompson & Son Firms. This is Andrew Thompson, how can I help you?" a deep, stern voice answered the phone. 

"A—Andy, h—hi." Clara cleared her throat. 

"You took too long calling back. I have appointments to settle. Why didn't you call sooner?" Andy shot back.

"I—I was in a counseling session with a client. I called as soon as I could." Clara instinctively looked down at her skirt, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. She wiped her sweaty hand on it. "What did you—"

"Come to the firm. I left an important file at the apartment and I need it by my eleven o'clock appointment."

"I—I can't. I have another session with a client in half an hour—"

"Then, make it quick. I need it. Pick up my lunch on the way. I'll text you the details."

"I—O—okay, bye. I love yo—" He hung up. Clara froze for a moment and then slowly put the phone down. She peeked at the clock on her wall. The apartment was ten minutes away, the firm another ten minutes. If she really tried, she could probably make it. She picked up her black purse and pulled out her car keys and cellphone. Right on the screen blinked his lunch details, a sub with red onions, turkey, swiss, cucumbers, olives, and vinegar. No mayo, mustard, or ketchup. Mildly toasted. Cut exactly in half. No leftover mess in wrapping or errors. Clara frowned. She stuck her phone back in her purse and stepped out of her psychologist office. 

"I'm going to be out for half an hour, Miss Lavender. If Mr. and Mrs. Rogers are here before I am, just offer any refreshments and I'll try to be here as quickly as I can." Clara fumbled with her keys as she talked. She looked up and met Miss Lavender's apologetic gaze. 

"Of course, Dr. Thompson. Drive safe." She watched Clara practically run to the exit door and toward the elevator in the hall. 

Clara stabbed the elevator buttons, urging the elevator to come down the other ten floors and come to her fourth floor. She tapped her foot, waiting. The dial above the doors slowly moved down the floors. Then, it stopped on the eleventh floor for what felt like an eternity. She groaned. She pulled out her cellphone to look at the time. She let out an exasperated gasp and threw it back into her purse. She ran in her high heels to the stair exit door. As soon as she walked in, she plucked off her heels and ran down all four floors, her black hair waving in the air, her arms floundering for balance, and her purse bumping against the stair railing. 

She jumped off the last step and stormed out the door. She put her heels back on and headed for her car. A small blue Prius blinked and its doors unlocked as she thrust the driver's door open and threw her purse in. She jumped in and started driving to the small one-bedroom apartment she shared with her husband and a single black cat with green eyes named Salem.