Long Time No See

Sunday, May 31

My parents are forcing me to go to a therapy session today. They are worried about me and want me to talk to a professional. I tried to tell them that I didn't need to talk to anyone because I was perfectly fine, but they wouldn't listen. It was as if they heard what I was saying but wouldn't respond. They are treating me like a psych ward inmate and I hate it. What am I doing or saying that makes them so worried?

 As all of this runs through my brain, I stare out of the window over my bed. The sun is rising  surrounded by cascading shades of blue, purple, and orange. Silhouettes of buildings are outlined by the colors surrounding on one side, but on the other, the view is "completely unobstructed" as Damien put it. Damien could say how I feel right now beautifully. Tyrese could sketch it out perfectly while capturing an aesthetic that I never could. Lebanon could help a patient so that they could see another one of these. I believe that Kyra told me the word for such a beautiful sunrise. Hinode, I believe, is the name of it. Everyone else can make beautiful art, and all I can do is sit and think about it...

The thought of the therapy session gives me a headache. Maybe I can tell my parents that I don't feel up to it today. If they check my temperature I'll just stick my head in a microwave or something. Anything to not go today. I check my phone for texts from Damien, but none come up. Ever since he left Friday night, we haven't spoken. That kiss we shared was amazing, but it felt unreal. Something about it too imagined yet cut short.

 I try to silence the mental chatter that starts, but all I can think about is why he left. Was it something I said? Did I come off too needy? Did his mom send him a text and he had to help her? The way he left without saying goodbye was unsettling but what can I do about it now? Probably obsess over the unrealistic possibilities until I hear from him again. It's crazy to think that we are dating. Damien and I who have been best friends since the third grade. I have always known that he is handsome and everyone's dream guy, but I have been so caught up in our friendship, that I was oblivious to how he really felt.

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The appointment is set for twelve in the afternoon, about an hour and a half from now. I make myself a smoothie for breakfast and sit in my room for effect. Hopefully, my parents will see how miserable I am and fold. While in my room I sit on my bed searching for things to do to fill the time. Maybe ball up some clothes using my one good arm, flop all over my bed while trying to make it, or get distracted looking through old stuff.

 I run across a decorative storage box that my grandma bought me from a local Dollar Tree. It still has the blue price sticker on it with ruffled scratches on it from failed attempts to remove it. I keep scratching at it to see if I can remove it, but I fail again and laugh to myself. I look under my bed and reach for my apron. I won this apron at a cook off we had one year at our family Fourth of July cookout. I won for making my famous Jambalaya. My uncle came in second place for making his baby back ribs, and my father in third for making scones. After that summer, I got really busy with helping Damien out with his theater work and I haven't touched the apron since.

I remember forcing Damien to try out my newest creations. He never complained or grumbled once, he just ate my food and told me it was delicious. It's cute when you think about our relationship as friends. We are always there for each other and I love it.

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The therapist's office smells like clean linen and the scent catches in my throat. There are chairs lined up against a carpet-like padded wall. My parents and I sit directly in front of the receptionist. She is a young white lady, probably twenty-five. She has glasses that frame her round face. Her face is lighted by her phone and she ignores the fact that we are here. As I look around the room, I notice that there is another family there. Well a dad and his daughter. I look closer and realize that it is Regina sitting there, looking around the room, kicking her legs back and forth like a toddler. I couldn't find a reason or a want to say "hi" so I just sit there, trying not to stare. She is wearing a peach crop top tee-shirt with beige shorts that cut off at her thigh. She also has gold shades propped up on her head, that contrast her shiny black hair.