A second chance

CAMILLA

~•~

I looked at my laptop one more time. Smiling sadly as I picked it out of the bag. The bag was meant for things I no longer needed, but couldn't find a place in my heart to get rid of.

With my palm, I took the dust off the surface of the MacBook and took a deep breath before I opened it.

Staring at the keys once again, memories came flooding back into my head.

I could recall the reason why I put the laptop away, in it had so much about my life. My college project, my research, information about all my previous patients, everything about my career, everything I could no longer bear to look at.

"You're going to be okay" I always assured them.

"Whatever it is, you're going to push through it, all you have to do is want to push through."

They always nodded in agreement, most times determined to do just what I had said.

He was different, he never said anything. Apart from the monosyllabic answers he gave all my questions and nodding in affirmation to all my fairly correct guesses, he never said anything.

I often wondered what had happened to him, what could have scarred a thirteen-year-old so deeply he could not bear to face the world.

I had tried to question his mom on several occasions, but nothing helpful ever came out of those meetings. The woman neither knew nor understood her son, worse still, she feared for him, she was scared of him.

"I don't see the point of this." He had finally spoken up one day. Interrupting my sentence.

While I did a celebratory dance in my head, I adjusted myself on my seat, my sweaty palms drawing the hem of my white skirt down to my knees, eager to hear what he wanted to say.

His eyes met mine in a dead, but still challenging gaze.

"I don't see why she makes me sit here for forty minutes, two times a week." He continued, his eyes falling back to his blue sneakers.

"Your mom brought you to me cause she loves you and she wants you to be okay," I replied, smiling as I stretched my hand towards him, hoping he took it and held on to it.

I wanted him to trust me, more than anything, I wanted him to open up to me. I could not do anything if he did not.

He stared at my hand, his eyes danced around all my five fingers before they traveled up to my face, it had a nervous smile plastered on it.

"Two weeks, it only took two weeks after the incident for me to get a call from Frankie's mom.

"I should have listened to you." She cried over the phone that night. I could remember losing appetite for the salad I had previously been munching on.

"Slow down Mrs. Parker. It is never too late to start again, I can do that for free. All we have to do is just begin our sessions and his treatment again."

"You don't understand." She cried out.

"Frankie is dead!"

The receiver remained stuck to my ears. I wanted to put it down, but could not. Panic, anger, and confusion seized my chest all at once, rendering my joints immobile.

Frankie committed suicide.

"This isn't right," I muttered.

"Frankie was just thirteen, he was going to be okay, I promised him he was going to be okay"

The receiver fell from my hands to the floor. I went down right along with it and screamed.

Tears flew down my eyelids to my cheeks. I screamed.

It was that night I put away my work tools, cleared my workspace, and threw everything into the bag I currently stared down at.

"It won't hurt to try again right?" I muttered to myself. That was one time. There was nothing I could have done differently. There was not a stone I left unturned. Frankie was a nice boy, but he's gone now. I had to move on.

Smiling softly, I dabbed my eyes with the back of my palms.

I reached for my glass case beside me. I put it on and cleared my throat before starting the laptop.

Reaching for my breast pocket, I took out mint-flavored chewing gum, unwrapped it, and threw it into my mouth.

The chill after taste of mint always helped to calm my nerves down, I needed to be calm right now.

The device took its time to start. I could not blame it, I would be slow to do anything for someone who had abandoned me for so long too, the laptop must have been hurt.

I decided to become a psychologist after I lost my mother.

Seeing my mom on her death bed that day, knowing she had hung herself, and finding her suicide note underneath her pillow, changed everything for me. I wanted to be able to help people, I needed to be there for people. It was the only way I could redeem myself. Every day, I told myself that if I helped more people overcome the demons in their heads, my mother would forgive me for not being able to help her.

I sniffed back my tears again.

I thought that she would forgive me for not paying close attention, for not listening to her silence, for not seeing through her opaque self. Maybe if I tried hard enough for other people, she would understand that I only didn't try because I didn't know.

Frankie's death threw me to the edge. I felt like I had failed my mother once again. Knowing that we had lost him to suicide was a big blow to my face. I had failed, once again!

I guess I just needed space, time to clear my head, time to think.

I took deep breaths in and out after the home page of my laptop greeted my sight.

I typed in my password and shut my eyes for ten seconds while inhaling and exhaling. I had learned the importance of breathing exercises in college, it was the first step in tackling anxiety and panic attacks.

Slowly and quietly, I began to access all my files. I logged in to my LinkedIn and Twitter accounts to see just how much I had missed.

Once again, I organized my portfolio on the former and made a short post announcing my comeback to as many as cared on my Twitter account.

"Doctor Camilla Theodore, reporting for duty from the land of the lost" the tweet read. I smiled as I clicked the "post" icon.

My ability to be professional and yet goofy was one of the things my few followers and patients adored me for. It was a trait I involuntarily possessed. It was a habit that had managed to creep its way into my professional life. Still, I remained as happy as ever.

Three hours had passed so quickly, I put the laptop aside after my jaw dropped at the sight of the digital clock that rested at the top of my bedside drawer. I had skipped lunch and my stomach cursed me for it.

"A quick dinner and I'll be back to you," I said, rising from my bed.

I could feel my phone vibrate in the back pocket of my jean shorts.

Why would anyone be calling me?

Staring at the number on the screen, I wondered who it was. The number was not saved on my phone, could Tehilah be trying to reach me with an unknown number?

My left hand rested on my left hip as I answered the call, ever ready to yell at my sister, but the voice at the other end of the phone threw me into a state of confusion.

"Doctor Camilla Theodore?" The male voice enquired.

"Yes, I am, and who is asking?"

"Antonio Alvarez."

The name was all shades of unfamiliar.

"You came in highly recommended by a friend of my family. I had asked them for a therapist and they mentioned you were one of the best they knew, despite your.."

The last word came in with a faint sign of mockery.

"Low profile."

"I like to keep my records off the internet." I retorted.

"Which I respect. I have sent details of the job to your email account, the one linked to your LinkedIn, I hope that is alright?"

"It is" I replied, curtly.

"I hope to hear from you soon, Miss Theodore."

"You just might...Mr?"

"Antonio, call me Antonio."

"Alright"

The line went dead immediately.

"Bloody Italians" I cursed, falling back to my bed to go through my G***l again.

This was a new start, a second chance, one I would seize by force.