The Art of Courting

The Art of Courting- Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

 

Hello?
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone at home?
Come on, now,
I hear you're feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain
And get you on your feet again- Comfortably Numb, Pink Floyd

THREE DAYS WENT BY WITH Chelsea just lying in the hospital bed, with her only getting up to go to the toilet. She still couldn’t get the emptiness in her heart to leave. Just the thought of the accident and what it had taken away from her made her burst into tears that could flow on for hours. And though she hated being weak, she couldn’t stop herself from blaming others. She blamed the truck driver who was now lying dead in the ground; she blamed the person who made the truck in the first place. And she blamed herself.

Most of all, she blamed Jay. Sometimes she blamed him so much that she wished he were dead. Maybe if he hadn’t made her emotional she would have noticed the truck had run a red light instead of worrying about him. She would still have her future set.

God, she almost hated him.

In around thirty minutes she had her first meeting with her psychologist, since Doctor Wayland was impressed with her progress. She didn’t feel impressed with it. In fact, it seemed like the world grew greyer as days went by.

“Hello, Chelsea. My name is Emma,” the psychologist introduced herself softly. She held out her hand but Chelsea didn’t bother taking it. “Okay. Well, I’ve been told of your accident-”

“Who told you?” she interrupted. “I didn’t give anyone permission to tell you anything.”

Emma frowned at her. “As your psychologist, I have the automatic right to-”

“No you don’t.”

“Stop cutting me off, Chelsea, and let me speak,” the shrink said, her voice going gentle again. “We don’t have to talk about what happened today. Tell me about your life before the accident.” 

Chelsea sent her a skeptical look. “I was in love with my boyfriend who turned out to be a bastard, I was a straight A+ student and I was going to skip a grade. My brother had just knocked up his sort-of girlfriend too, so I was, and still am, expecting to be an aunty soon. Which kind of sucks now since I’m never going to have a baby of my own.”

Pity crossed the psychologist’s face and she instantly tensed. She’d come to hate that emotion ever since she woke up. It was on everyone’s face when they looked at her, like she was a puppy that had been left by its mother. Chelsea hated anything or anyone that reminded her of the accident, and that pity was like a constant slap to the face.

“It sounds like you had a nice life,” Emma whispered.

“I had a normal life.” No tears came, like they usually did when she thought about before the accident. She just felt hard and cold, like she was watching the scene instead of participating in it.

“We all think that we had a normal life after something shakes it,” was the shrink’s reply. Rolling her eyes, she turned away from the girl. She couldn’t look at her anymore.

Emma was young and beautiful and completely 100% fertile. She had her whole life ahead of her- a husband/partner, a nice house, a good job that helped people and… kids. Chelsea knew that she would never be able to open up to someone that had everything she wanted, especially when they didn’t even appreciate it.

“Have your family come to visit you?” Emma asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you happy about that?”