Pause, Replay

Eight

Dear Diary,

Dr.Goodwill made me realize something today.

Everything has to start somewhere. Whether it be the fetus that relies on its mother for nine months and then transforms into an independent adult. Or a tiny bud of a smile that, with the right amount of care and love, blooms into the greatest of friendships.

Everything changes.

But not always for the best.

Today the wait wasn't too long. There was no wait at all, actually. The receptionist-Ingrid, from what I was able to read on the plaque perched at the edge of her desk-sent me in as soon as I got out of the elevator and set foot in the cabinet.

Dr.Goodwill's office was in total darkness, the only light being the lamp on her desk, which cast shadows on her face in a creepy let's-tell-each-other-scary-camp-stories kind of way.

"Don't I get a hello?"she said it nonchalantly but her arms were crossed over her t-shirt-clad chest and from where I was, I couldn't read her expression. I didn't say anything. The insecurity made me uneasy. It was like suddenly my sight was gone and all I could rely on was my hearing and my sense of feel. That made everything, every single sensation amplified and more intense.

As she got up to flick on the lights, I saw that her hair was up in a topknot and that she was wearing jeans. Dark rinse, boot cut jeans that might, if you were far enough, look like  professional pants, but still.

Jeans.

"I had zero to no clients today," she said, noticing my puzzled expression as she returned to her desk. "So I figured, why dress up? Plus, I woke up with this awful headache-which explains the lights." She popped a few pills and downed some water. "Go ahead and take a seat, Jaïya."

I did as I was told and waited while she sorted trough the usual clutter on her desk, giving me the time to look around her office.

It's funny-I'd been there two times already yet I'd never taken any particular interest in my surroundings. To me, she'd always been "the enemy" and I'd been too focused on avoiding her questions and not letting anything slip to notice other things.

Like the gargantuan potted plant in the corner of the room. Or the sunshine-yellow walls that conveyed a deceptively bright atmosphere. Or the fact that the office was actually pretty small.

"So," she opened her laptop and moved the mouse around the circumference of the limited free space on her desk, clicking furiously. "Tell me about your week."

It was an odd, general question with no real answer so I asked,"My week?"

"Yes, what you did, what you saw, what sucked and what didn't suck."

"I had lunch with Kara yesterday," I said to give her the illusion that I was getting better and reentering the social world.

"Kara? Is she a friend of yours?"

"Kind of." I looked away as I spoke. "It's complicated."

"Complications make for the best stories," she said with a large grin.

I sighed, but the words tumbled out of my mouth anyway. I think that secretly, I was relieved to have someone to tell my and Kara's history too. It had happened so long ago, but I'd kept it bottled inside for years and sometimes I forgot about it and I didn't want that. Forget about it, I mean. I wanted to remember the good and the bad moments I'd had with Kara because they mattered equally. It was like yin and yang; good and bad. There was always two sides to each story, to everything, really, and I struggled to get those two sides out as Dr.Goodwill's grey eyes bore into mine.