Chapter Three

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I spin my fork, circling the spaghetti over and over but never lifting it to my mouth. I can faintly hear my mother attempting to pull me into conversation but I drift off into my thoughts.

"Angelina?" I lift my head and meet her questioning expression.

"Yes?" I lift my eyebrows.

I know she just wants to talk and I don't mind but it always ends in some kind of argument. 

It's just me and my mom in this big old house. My Dad died almost a year ago and neither of us have dealt with it too well. I know she feels lonely and lost most days seeing as she has a family to take of on her own and a daughter who's having "issues".

"Tell me about your day,"

She wants to hear about my session.

Flashes of Dr. Sexy enter my mind and I quickly push them away. I can't think about my therapist that way. Not normal.

Well, I guess I'm not normal.

"It was just lovely Mother. I think I made a serious breakthrough. I'm cured and will no longer be needing their services, " I say in my best innocent voice, never looking up from my food.

"Can't I have just on adult conversation with you?" The aggravation in her voice is very evident and she places her fork down, glaring at me in her usual way.

I let a long breath out, also setting down my fork. I lean back to meet her eyes.

"I'm not an adult for another 109 days. Therefore, I am not obligated to have an adult conversation," I smirk.

I love my mother. I really do but all her time around me is spent trying to figure out what's wrong with me and how to fix it.  There are no genuine interactions between us anymore and there hasn't been since the "incident".

That day broke my mother. Only six  months after my father died, I was making the selfish decision to also leave. The thought that I almost left my mother alone hits hard everyday but in that moment,  I wasn't thinking that way. I thought in that moment, I was doing what was best for everyone.

I wanted to be with my Dad and in my head, the reasoning was legitimate.

"I'm sorry Mom, I just don't feel like talking," I say sincerely.

Her eyes grow softer and her body relaxes. I spend most of my time with my guard way up and sarcasm at its highest so she lives of these very infrequent moments of me just being me.

The old me.

I get up from the kitchen table and walk to the sink the rinse my dish.

"I'm going to head to bed," I start walking towards the stairs.

"Wait, just tell me, how was the new doctor today?" She asks in a last ditch effort to get a little info from me.

"It was good, Mom," I crack a little smile thinking about it and then I wonder why the hell I'm smiling.

She eyes widen seeing my genuine happiness. "Good, hunny. I'm glad to hear it went well,"

"Good night," I turn and proceed up the stairs.

I need to get ready for my session tomorrow. I refuse to be unprepared again.

~~~

"Betty," I greet my favorite grey haired receptionist with my arms crossed and nose in the air.

"Angelina," She says back, ignoring the fact that I'm pretending to be mad at her for not giving me a warning the day before.

"I have feelings, Betty. You just hurt those feelings. Now, who am I going to talk to about that?" I wave my hands around. "It's not like there are people just hanging around, waiting to listen to people and their feelings," I look at her with my arms stretched out.

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