If You Miss It

28. heal

A short laugh and a nod later, she nodded. "Okay. That's fair. How have the past few days been? It doesn't have to be mental health related, just— life related. Tell me about anything," she urged.

Dmitri had to think about that for a moment, really think about it.

What had happened over the past few days? Everything was a complete fucking blur to him.

So, that was exactly what he was going to tell Claire.

That life was a blur and nothing really made sense to him as of late. That the only thing that stuck out was his depression and the feeling of his chest being ripped apart every time he took a breath.

Until, involuntarily, he said, "Juno's been really good lately. Like— she doesn't cry that much, she even responded to her name yesterday. She's only been responding to shit like baby and sweetheart. That's my fault I guess. I call her everything but her name."

Claire smiled at that, humming to herself. "That's good. It's nice to hear about her growth from you, Dmitri. She's how old, now?"

"Nearly two," he replied, already more enthusiastic since he was talking about Juno. "Turning two on the sixteenth. Of May. We share a birthday."

That was the only thing good about his birthday. The fact that he shared it with Juno. He wasn't even sure when her actual birthday was, considering he had adopted her, but it was a lot nicer to share their birthdays. A lot better for his mental health, too.

Celebrating Juno's life was a good distraction from everything that went down in his mind on that day.

"Anything else?" Claire coaxed, Dmitri's mind drawing up a blank as soon as she said those words. "Anything else that happened recently?"

But even through the blankness in his mind, one thing stuck out.

"Tariq and I cooked lunch yesterday."

Claire smiled. Again. "That sounds like it could have been fun," she said, probably, no, definitely expecting him to go on.

So, he did, by saying, "It's wild how like— he does it so easily. Helping me. I'm not saying that he automatically makes me less depressed, shit doesn't work like that. Mental illness doesn't work like that. But it's just— he just knows how to help me. He knows when he should be more forceful because nothing will get me to move but force, and when he should be kinder with words, because I'm extra sensitive on certain days. He knows exactly how I work, and that's so scary."

Letting out a soft laugh, Claire nodded, adjusting her glasses on her face. "Why is it scary?" she asked.

If someone asked him that question two days ago, he wouldn't have had an answer. But now that he had actually thought about it, he could finally give her and himself an answer.

"Because things feel too normal. And they're not supposed to."

"Why?"

Dmitri frowned. "You tell me, you're the therapist."

A small, amused smile spread across her face, and she shrugged, rolling up the sleeves of her shirt. "I can't read minds, Dmitri. That's now how therapy works. I can help you, but not when—"

"They're not supposed to feel normal when I'm fucking falling apart. I can't have normalcy when my brain doesn't feel like it's normal," he admitted, a spark burning within his chest, only getting brighter with each word. "I need my brain to be normal before my life is normal."

"Why can't those two go hand in hand? Why does one thing have to happen for the next to happen? Why can't your brain work with your life?"

Snorting, Dmitri shook his head. "Because I'm depressed, Claire."