Chasing Stars ✔️

15.

Fix your course on a star and you will navigate any storm - Da Vinci

She

The piece of dark brown wood was dangerously close to the edge of Dr. B's desk. I have seen it hundreds of times before; she had a similar one in her office at St. Patrick, or maybe it was the same.

Bianca Black, it read.

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to prevent the amusement from materializing. When Jake asked me about what "B" stood for, he had burst into laughter. Then, he explained how, considering that Bianca in Italian meant white, the name was a contradiction. According to him, her parents were evil. She was not supposed to be a therapist, but attending one.

My attention escaped to the mental image of Jake's amused expression, zooming on the cute way his eyes wrinkled when his laughter was genuine. My smile was immediate and unstoppable.

"What's so funny?" Dr.B asked, blinking fast. Like a child caught misbehaving, I knew I was in trouble at that moment. I shook my head, trying to regain composure. "Nothing, I am sorry. You were saying..." She tilted her head down, giving me an unimpressed look from the top of her glasses.

"I'm sorry, ok?" my hands lifted in defeat, "I got distracted. I'm having a little trouble focusing today."

That much was the truth, anyway. I had a killer headache that started early in the morning after waking up covered in sweat from another nightmare featuring my parents. I've been having them every day since the afternoon I met with Matt at the bakery, and it was getting harder and harder to go back to sleep after.

Jake had noticed the effects of not sleeping right away and tried to distract me, hence the jokes about my therapist's name... and ice cream, lots of it. It disappointed me he could think banana split was even in my top five, but he made it up to it by holding my hand when I was crying my eyes out over a sad movie later in the evening. It was becoming more frequent, the small touches, holding hands for brief moments, but I suppose I took the first step in that direction when I noticed his scarred knuckles.

"Well, difficulty to concentrate on minor tasks can be a side effect of being sleep deprived..." Seemed like Dr. B noticed that too. To be fair, there was no amount of concealer that could hide the dark circles around my eyes.

"I guess," I answered, although my mind was stuck in the memories of the conversations about Jake's scars "do you think I am a fighter?" I didn't meet her eyes, feeling embarrassed at my question.

"I think you fought many battles, Alexa, and you are still fighting. And I think you are very brave."

A smile crept into my mouth.

"I'm starting to believe that maybe there is some truth in that. Is it weird?"

"No, not at all."

Lifting my head I looked at Dr. B. Her expression gave nothing away, as usual, but her eyes were alive and intelligent; waiting.

"I know I said I would tell you if the nightmares continued, it's just..." I trailed off, not having a valid explanation to give. Not one that would satisfy Dr. B, anyway.

"Is it the same as before?" she asked, "When you were a child?"

"Yes." I breathe out.

"How old do you think you are in those nightmares?"

"Same as usual. Maybe four or five. Is it even possible to remember something from when I was so young?"

Dr. B took off her glasses, playing with them between her fingers "So, now we are establishing, for sure, that they are about events from your childhood?" I never spoke clearly about the nightmares. Dr. B. and I had come a long way, I trusted her, but there were barriers I just couldn't cross, even with her. Damn it, even admitting to myself was hard enough...