Maybe This Is Love, |✔️

Chapter 14

"Today is a good day," I decide, talking to my reflection in the mirror. I manage to tame my hair into a low middle part bun and I throw on an old pair of jeans along with one of Silas' old sweatshirts. "Today will be a great day."

It's a Friday so you know what that means. Therapy! Yay!
I don't know why I'm so excited to go to my therapy session but I just have this weird feeling in my stomach that refuses to go away. Maybe today I'll make a breakthrough.

I smile to myself, just thinking about him makes my cheeks turn red. Argh! What is this feeling?

He knows not to pick me up on Fridays, he's asked why a billion times and each time I'd give him a different answer. There's no way I'd tell him that I'm seeing a shrink then he'll know for sure that I'm practically one ticket away from the loony bin.

Well...I know he wouldn't think that but still, what if there was the slightest possibility that he would?

Either way, I'm not taking any chances. I haven't even told him about my AvPD. I keep imagining his reaction and each time I do, it's never a good one. It usually ends with Parker and me not speaking anymore and me going back to be alone again.

I grab my stuff and venture to the living room where my Pops was watching Kim Kardashian complain about an earring on the telly.

"Hey Pops," I smile sadly down at him. He was in his work clothes even though he hasn't worked in a long time. I figured that today was one of his bad days. "You okay?"

He barely looks at me as he reassures me that he's fine. Before, when both he and Papa were alive, he was the most positive person around, even when Papa would shut himself up in that tiny office room for weeks and refuse to come out or speak to anyone. He was always the backbone of the family when things went wrong, he never wanted us to see Papa when he was 'dark' so he would pretend that Papa was working on some big project and couldn't be disturbed.

I never told him about the times when Papa would come into my room full of energy and wake me up at 4 am to make curry goat just like how his mum made it. Or when he held the phone to me and told me to speak to my grandmother who had died three years earlier. I never told pops any of this but I'm sure he already knew.

But now Pops is unrecognisable, he's practically miserable all the time and no matter how hard I try, I couldn't get him out of it. It's partially the reason why Silas was so quick to leave for uni, I suspected that he was too scared to see another parent lose themselves.
Pops isn't as bad as Papa was but still, it doesn't stop me from being scared.

"Therapy?" He mumbles to me, seaweed green eyes glued to the screen.

I nod, not like he could even see me. "We should get you one," I say, knowing this would set him off.

He begins shaking his head fervently, "No no no, I'm fine, look!" He finally looks at my face and shakes his skinny arms about as if that's meant to persuade me.

I decide not to push it and kiss him lightly on the forehead before I leave.

I put my earphones in, an attempt to distract myself from the madness in my head. The soft chimes of music playing through the mini speakers and into my mind as I cycle, already calming me.

The session comes and goes and I leave the building with a smile. I feel so accomplished.

I was finally opening up and learning to overcome my social anxiety.
I've made friends, I've eaten in public spaces. I've gone to other people's houses. All of these things I'd never thought I'd be able to do after I got diagnosed. But I'm doing them now and I feel great...