Sunday, 10 March 2013

Leap- chapter one






Therapy day.

 Mom said I had problems. Dad said I had problems. My brain tells me ‘they will never understand’. Dad is still on his business trip, so today Mum is sending me off. I hate it when she sends me off. She asks too many questions, and most of them are left unanswered. She gets frustrated and I’ll get flustered. It’s Mum who needs therapy, I don’t understand why I have to undergo it. I take my jacket from the back seat and said my goodbye.
“7:00?” Mum asked.
“Like always,” I answered back and shut the car door close. She drove away like she needed the toilet fast. It was my chance again. I could go to therapy or go wondering off into Buck’s Pie Shop. Buck makes the best pies around here and he’s always willing to offer a slice to me if I was ever to stop by. I’ve known Danny for such a long time. He’s Buck’s son. Buck’s wife died a few years back, so it was a total bombshell for the entire family, especially to Danny. Since then we barely talked much. He took it hard. The deep cut inside of him hasn’t fully recovered. I can’t argue with that. I can’t be the one to mend his cuts, when my scars still hurt badly. Maybe the death of Danny’s mom is the cause that the relationship between him and I started falling apart. Danny doesn’t treat me like a stranger, but he just acts like I’m ‘a once in a while friend’. Do you know what I mean?
My friendship between Danny and I is unsure. We don’t bother to talk about it. But, not talking about it may be the cause of why now I have regular therapy check-ups.
Then again, if I was going to skip therapy and go to Buck’s, I would have to face Danny. I look over at Buck’s Pie Shop. It was small and didn’t stand out much like the other shops. But the smell that you get out of there, the rapture inside of you just wants to dash in there and start drooling on the pies.

But, Danny. He’s always behind the counter. It would be awkward. I’ve known him for years.  More like forever. Once he’s in grief, there’s no way into turning that frown upside down. I don’t know. I miss him. He just doesn’t want to respond. He’s motionless now.
So, therapy; I guess?
Dr Susan’s office is on the fourth floor. This is one reason out of ninety-nine why I feel like ditching therapy. All the steps just to get somebody tell what you are doing right and wrong. Annoying. I’m already fifteen minutes late to my 5 o’clock appointment. Two steps more, I saw the door of Dr Susan Therapy Sessions. She works on her own, she doesn’t need an assistant. As I reach for the handle, it started turning. Somebody must have an appointment before me. As it opens, I encounter someone I didn’t thought of going to therapy sessions as I do.
“Danny,”
He sniffed.
“Oh hey, therapy uh?”
“I guess. You go to therapy too?”
“Yeah, three weeks now. What for?”
“Uh?”
“You’re cutting yourself right?”
“Yes, apparently. You Danny?”
“Depression. Got the pills here”
He patted his pockets indicating that there are anti-depression pills in there. I look up and gazed into his eyes. There are heavy bags under his eyes. I used to see them beautiful and bright hazel eyes, now they’re just dull like his life right now. The tension that was going on at that moment made him uncomfortable. He did his fake cough to alert the situation. “See you later Lucy,” he said and walked pass me them down the stairs. There won’t be another ‘later’, because later to us is now ‘I hope never’.  I understood. I’m not going to go searching for that later.
I walked into the office. Dr Susan was sitting on her chair, waiting for me. “Lie down here now Lucy Trace.” So I did. I placed my jacket besides me, and slowly lay my head on the small pillow that the chair had with.
“Are you still self-harming yourself?” she asked me.
“Last night, I did one cut. Just one.” I said. 
I show her my right wrist the cut I did last night. Dr Susan just nodded and jotted something on her notes that also had previous therapy sessions I had.  “Do your parents know about this?” she questioned.
I shook my head. “They think I stop cutting since I go to therapy. Stupid”
“I don’t think it’s stupid that they think you have stopped. Therapy is something that you can progress on. Renovate yourself to a better start. They hope for the best in you.”
“I cut, so what is the big deal? I’m not cutting myself to suicide.” I stated out.
“But you eventual may cut yourself to suicide. That is what I’m trying to progress on. I don’t want things like that to happen.”

After two hours past, my therapy session was over, thankfully. As I gotten down the ground floor, it was raining heavily. There was a shelter nearby, so I ran quickly over puddle and mud just to keep dry.

Danny was there. Why is he there?

Danny looked at me as I took a seat next to him. I guess there was a later.
“Hey,”
“Hey.” I said back.
“You’re wet, need a towel?” he said. I said no, that I was just fine at that moment.
Somehow I started to blurt out something I kind of regret.
“Are we friends? Are we even close anymore Danny? You act like we are now nothing.” I look at him.
He shook his shoulders. “I don’t know. Are we?”
“I don’t know Danny. When you’re mom died…”
“When my mom died was my personal business Lucy.”

I kept my mouth shut. I guess we’re not friends anymore.

“Did you cut again?”  
His voice almost like a whisper, he sounded as if he was so worried about me.
“No,” I replied. 
“Why do you care anyways?”  It was a question that I had rights to ask.
He shrugged. He looked away, out to the rainy atmosphere. It was pouring rain. I’m stuck. Out of all people around me, it’s him that God chosen to spend quality time with while waiting for my parents to pick me up.
“Should there be a reason to care?” he answered back.
“No,”
“I know things have been rough between us Lucy, but I still care about you. I just don’t know what to do since my mom died okay?”

He then continued
“Don’t hate me Lucy for what had happened. It’s just…”

“I hate you,” I said back. My eyes were motionless. We responded to each other but made no eye contact.
“Lucy…”.

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