The stories that killed their writer

Chapter 17: A real job

Lana's POV

During the car ride back home, I was looking outside the window. I watched the scenery pass us by, but I wasn't actually looking at it. I was thinking. I had been wondering about this talk with Dr.Hansen. Did she cross a line?

I knew she was actually worried and she cared about me, as her patient. But when she placed her hand on mine to comfort me, or when she gave me her personal phone number... It felt odd to me. Was that alright? Could she do those things?

I certainly didn't mind, I knew she was genuine about her actions and her behavior. I knew that, if she placed her hand on mine to comfort me, she was actually trying to comfort me. It wasn't an act.
I knew that, if she gave me her personal phone number in case I wanted to talk to her, she wanted me to feel supported. 

"How was it, actually?"

I looked beside me and saw Melody, who glanced at me. "It was alright."

She nodded. "Is she able to help you?"

"Help me?"

She nodded.

I frowned. "Help me with what? Mel, I'm fine, I told you and everyone else."

"Sure Lana..." She looked back at the road, seemingly this conversation was over...

I sighed as I looked away too. It occurred to me that Melody and I weren't on the same page, like ever. Sometimes I wondered why we were together, why we got married, why we decided to stay together... Was it our initial fling? Was it our insecurity of never finding the right person? Was it because of the amazing sex we always had? I didn't know.

We passed by the firm and I suddenly remembered I hadn't talked to Chelsea or Isaac in quite some time. "Stop the car."

Melody did so, very abruptly. "What? Why?"

I motioned to the firm. "I'm going to say hi to Chelsea and Isaac," I then opened the car door. "I'll see you at dinner." And, without waiting for an answer, I got out of the car.

I walked to the firm and entered, and I smiled. This was my true home: writers, computers, creativity, typewriters, printers... This is where I belonged.

I walked to Isaac's office, knowing that Chelsea would be there too. I knocked on the door before entering.

When they saw me, they got up and smiled. "Lana!" They came to me and immediately pulled me into a tight hug.

"How are you?" Chelsea asked.

"How are the ribs?" Isaac asked. "And the foot?"

I smiled. "I'm fine," I said to Chelsea. "My foot's better, my ribs need some more time," I said to Isaac. "How are things here?" I looked around, seeing the many new book covers hanging onto the walls of his office. Those would be the newest releases.

"Good," Isaac said before sitting back down at his desk. "We've got some books that are doing well," He said to which Chelsea nodded. "Of course, none are doing as amazing as yours..."

I smiled before looking down, I could sense he was hinting at something though I didn't know if I wanted to hear it.

"What brings you here?" Chelsea asked as she sat down on Isaac's desk.

I looked at them and went to sit down at the desk too. "We passed by with the car and I thought about coming in to say hi."

They both smiled but I could see something was bothering them. I sighed. "What's wrong?"

They looked at each other before looking at me. "Lana," Isaac paused, seemingly looking for the right words. Then I remembered: they must still think I'm depressed or suicidal, they probably don't want to push me... "We know you need time for yourself right now. But..." He paused again. "We would like to know when you are thinking about returning to your job."