"You ready?"
Nora, still in pajamas, wrapped up under her comforter, shrugged at her laptop. It sat a few feet away from her crossed legs, broadcasting Willow's hopeful face. "I suppose," she said.
"This will be good," Willow said.
"Yeah." Nora forced herself from the safety of the covers to grab her hairbrush from the top of her dresser. Once flopped back onto her bed, she halfheartedly tugged the brush through her hair. Part of her was tempted to just put it into a braid without bothering to brush it. Her counselor was supposed to see the real her, right? But, it was pointless to even pretend to consider it. She wouldn't be able to leave the house without at least attempting to look put-together.
"You don't have to pretend with me," Willow said.
She put on a wan smile. "I know."
I don't think you do, said Willow's frown.
Nora kept brushing her hair.
What would Dr. Clem be like? Rachel said she sounded friendly on the phone. But what would it be like to sit in front of her on a...couch? Chair? She struggled to picture it. Distracted herself with trying to envision, to feel, what piece of furniture she would be trapped on while the clock crept forward. Comfy? Scratchy? Warm? Cold? Would there be pillows?
Would Dr. Clem have a clipboard?
Please, no. She wouldn't be able to speak, knowing her words were being written down.
What was she going to say?
She wouldn't be able to sit there in silence. That was like begging for another appointment. But to tell a stranger...
"Nora."
She dropped her hairbrush onto her bed. "Yeah?" she asked, separating her hair into three equal parts.
"It's okay to be nervous," Willow said.
"How was counseling for you, when you went?" Nora asked. She twisted her hair into her typical side-braid.
"Good, actually," Willow said. "My counselor was really nice—someone you could just chat with, you know?"
"What about your first session?"
"A little awkward at first," she admitted. "It was weird, talking to a stranger about something so personal. But I quickly got the sense that I'd like her. If you don't get good vibes from your counselor in the first session, I would suggest switching to someone else."
"Okay."
A soft knock on her door stole her attention. "Yeah?" she called.
Rachel poked her head inside. "Just letting you know that we're leaving in about thirty minutes."
"Thanks."
Rachel nodded and closed the door.
Nora sighed. "I guess I need to go get ready."
"I guess so."
✝
A serene melody drifted into Nora's ears as she shuffled into Dr. Clem's waiting room. She guessed it was supposed to be calming, but her stomach refused to loosen its hold on her as she eased into one of the cushioned chairs. Rachel claimed the one at her side.
As offices went, this was homier than she'd been picturing. Her only point of reference had been her doctor's office and the counseling waiting rooms she'd seen in movies and on TV. This room was more like a living room than a waiting room—it even had a couch. The only difference was a spinning rack filled with magazines.
Nora searched for the source of the music. She swiftly found it—a small radio player, tucked away on the window sill, surrounded by potted plants.
She was here. No going back now.
Well, unless she made a run for it.
A small smile crept onto her face as she pictured herself catapulting toward the door. Knowing her, she'd somehow manage to trip on the carpet.
She wrung her fingers. It was nine o'clock in the morning on a Friday. So that meant Andy was in gym. Max was in physics. Erin was in English. Nolan—
Her fingers dug into her jeans.
The door to her left opened, and she looked up. A girl about her age ambled out of the room. "See you next week!" she called over her shoulder. She gave Nora and Rachel a brief smile as she passed by.
The door shut, but Nora's attention was on the now-open doorway. She glanced at the clock, back to the door. Back to the clock. It was—
A woman with brunette hair and kind eyes shielded by purple glasses poked her head out the open doorway. "Nora?"
Nora stood.
"You've got this, girl," Rachel murmured with an encouraging thumbs up.
Nora did her best not to drag her feet as she followed Dr. Clem into her office. A chair and a couch. She paused by the doorway, questioning eyes finding Dr. Clem.
"You can sit wherever you'd like," Dr. Clem said with a knowing smile. "I just need to grab some paperwork."
Nora settled on the couch. It was actually quite comfortable. She leaned back into the seat, relishing in the little relief it gave her.
The office, like the waiting room, was homey. It reminded her of a home office, with a tidy desk in the corner and inspirational quotes and peaceful photographs dotting the walls. Dr. Clem stood behind the desk now, sifting through a built-in filing cabinet.
"Where are...?" She grinned and yanked the paperwork victoriously from where she found them. "A-ha!"
Nora couldn't help but smile.
"Okay," Dr. Clem said. She tugged a clipboard from where it hung on the wall and slid the paperwork onto it. "Here we are."
She handed Nora the clipboard and a pen before plopping onto the chair. Nora looked down. A wellness sheet.
"So, before you fill that out," Dr. Clem said, "I just wanted to say hi."
Nora looked up.
"So, hi." Dr. Clem grinned. "I'm Sandra Clem."
"Hi," Nora said.
"The goal here today is to set up, well, your goals."
"My goals?"
Dr. Clem nodded. "Your treatment goals. We'll see where you're at, what you'd like to get out of this experience, and how long we expect it'll take you to get there. Of course, it'll take as long as it takes, but having something to work toward is good."
Nora nodded. Guilt flashed, as, if this was all they were doing today, this meeting would ultimately waste Dr. Clem's time. Though wouldn't it have anyway?
"Basically, I want to get to know you a bit," Dr. Clem said. "Sound good?"
"Sounds good."
Nora set to work on the worksheet. For each topic, she had to select a number between zero and five—never, once in a while, sometimes, most of the time, always. She wasn't able to select "never" on any of the questions.
She reached the end of the checklist. More questions filled the bottom of the sheet.
Have you ever been abused?
The pen froze. She glanced between the Yes checkbox and the No.
She let out a shaky breath of air. Get it together. Dr. Clem's eyes weighed her down. Pressed her to check a box and move on.
She closed her eyes, tightened her grip on the pen, and checked Yes.
"Thank you, Nora," Dr. Clem said, accepting the clipboard. "I understand those can be difficult to fill out."
The Yes checkbox sat in her stomach.
"So, what brought you here to me today?" Dr. Clem set the clipboard onto the floor, her hands now free.
Nora crossed one leg over the other. Dropped it. Crossed the other one. "Um..." She swallowed. Pushed some hair behind her ear.
"It's okay."
She forced on a smile. Say something.
She tried to open her mouth, to let out the first words that sprung to mind, but her mouth had gained twenty pounds.
She was going to have to come back here.
Her knee bounced—pat-pat-pat-pat-pat. She twitched her fingers around her ear, but there wasn't any more hair to shift.
Dr. Clem was patient. She didn't once hurry Nora into an answer. Nora was grateful for that, but she also felt the way she did when a teacher waited students out when no one raised their hand.
Be honest, Willow's voice drifted softly through her head.
She tried to meet Dr. Clem's earnest gaze, but she couldn't. "I'm broken," she whispered.
"What makes you think you're broken?"
Nora shrugged. "Everything," she said. She caught a tear as it dribbled down her cheek. "Like this," she said, holding out her fingers. "I can't stop crying."
"What do you think triggers the crying?"
"Everything," she said. "It doesn't matter what I'm doing."
"Would you be okay sharing an example?"
"English homework." She blurted the answer before she could think to stop it.
She expected Dr. Clem to cock an eyebrow. Maybe look a little surprised that English homework could trigger tears. But she just nodded. "And what does English homework make you think about?" she asked.
She sought the window. A busy street greeted her from the other side. "Nolan," she murmured.
"Who's Nolan?"
"He's, uh..." She paused. How exactly was she supposed to describe him? "He's...he was my friend."
Friend. Was that the right term? Not really, not after the kiss on the porch, but it was the simpler one.
"What happened?"
She pulled her knees up to her chest, absent-mindedly picking at her shoes. Once again, her jaw had gained too much weight to open.
She couldn't do this.
Her chest—it was too tight. She struggled to let out a deep breath and massaged her chest, but, as usual, neither helped. Nothing helps. She closed her eyes and shook her head, hating that more tears sprang to the corner of her closed lids.
"It's okay," Dr. Clem assured her.
I can't. The words wouldn't come out. She wrapped her arms around and pressed her face into her knees.
She couldn't do this.
This wouldn't help. Nothing would help. She was stuck like this. She was broken.
Then what else do you have to lose?
She forced her eyes open and lifted her head from her knees.
And then slowly, hesitantly, painfully, with many gentle, prompting questions, she told Dr. Clem everything.