The one where i attend my therapy session

It's a Tuesday morning and like every tuesday morning since the past month, I'm in my therapist's office. Its a standard office, with different shades of blues, greens and browns that complements each other beautifully and gives an overall serene vibe.

"So how did you feel about that Callie?"

I stare at my therapist, Mrs Randall without really seeing her, instead what I was seeing were blue eyes, blue eyes that have haunted me for the past week. It had been six days since I saw him, and in those six days he has haunted my every waking moment. The tall handsome man that I told Neela that I didn't like, yeah, that guy. I'm unsure how I feel about him but what I know for sure is that no normal person hyperfixate on men they don't know, but I think I can be excused, I have not been normal in what, now, feels like forever.

"Callie?" Mrs Randall or Helen as she likes to be called, calls gently and I snap out of my day dream

"Sorry, what" I answer, Helen smiles at me indulgently and I give a small smile and shrug apologetically.

"I asked how you felt when your father didn't speak to you after the accident?" and like clockwork my mood sours and I'm taken back a year ago to that awful time when everything in my life went wrong. After the accident I was taken in by the paramedics and I figured they sedated me because when I woke, I was in a hospital, disorientated and hysterical, screaming about wolves and glowing eyes, I remembered my dad looking at me with tear filled eyes like i was some unhinged psycho. At that time, I couldn't understand why no one was doing anything so I just kept on screaming and screaming until I was eventually sedated,again. When I woke again, my Dad was talking to three police officers. I remember hearing snippets of their conversation, they were asking if by chance there was a possibility I was under the influence of alcohol and asking if I was under any sort of pressure from school and the likes, they were also talking about a possible breakdown or malfunction of the car, I was so confused, because that wasn't what had happened at all. I wanted to speak, I wanted to tell my Dad the truth but my tongue felt too heavy to lift and I think I passed out.

When I woke the next day, I found I survived the accident with a concussion , a fracture on my left pinkie and a tear on my thigh that needed 18 stitches, but that was not the worst of my wounds, the worst of my injuries was not physical but psychological.

After that day my father wouldn't speak to me he wouldn't even look at me. My father is a pilot so he travelled a lot, but before the accident, he wouldn't take on flights that took him away from home for more than three days. After the accident however, he was always on some flight or the other, until finally, he no longer came home.

"I was disappointed " I finally reply to her "but I get it, people have different ways of grieving" I shrug carelessly but she just stares at me and waits. I suddenly feel uncomfortable

"What?" I ask

"Callie" she starts, "You were the sole survivor of an accident that took the lives of both your mum and your sister, you're allowed to not be understanding."

I study my therapist, a beautiful woman in her mid-forties with smile lines, she had her hair in a sleek bob that on another person would normally look severe, but on her, it made her look familiar- before my mum died she was always talking about how much she wanted to cut her hair and maybe it was the ways she smiled at me encouragingly, the part of me that was so angry at my dad came rushing up and before I could stop myself, words started pouring out of me,

"He is my father, he should have talked to me, he wasn't supposed to go off and leave me by myself, he should have asked me how I was. He wasn't the only person who lost someone, I lost my mother too, I lost my sister, my baby sister, I was the one in the accident, I saw them die, I needed him." My voice cracks and to my eternal shame I start bawling. Helen gives me a handkerchief, and I try to thank her, but it just comes out as mumbled nonsense.

I don't know how long I cry for, but when I'm done, I feel lighter than I've felt in a long time.

"So tell me Callie, how is your new job"

"It's going well, as well as it can go"

"Can you elaborate" she asks

"Well it's a job at a cafe, you know, it's very repetitive, you do the same things over and over again, all day, everyday, but I guess the bright side is that I have a new friend, Neela"

the thought of Neela brings a smile to my face.

"Would you like to tell me about her" My smile grows bigger and I start to talk to her about Neela. It felt good to talk about my life with someone without a care in the world. I knew everything I said was confidential, but talking about something so mundane made me really happy.

Few minutes pass and I'm still talking about Neela while Helen writes something down something I'm sure is about me in her notebook.

"I'm sorry can you repeat that part" she says cutting into my rant

"Which part" I ask

"The part about what Neela said"

"oh...she called him a snack" I say with a small chuckle

"And is he?" she asks

"Is he what?" I retort

"A snack" she says with a straight face

"Um..." I stutter and proceed to clear my throat "I mean yeah, you could definitely say so"

She gives me a small smile and then writes something in her notebook.

"Did you happen to talk to him?" she asks me

"Yes, I did, I was at the counter, it's kind of in my job description." She smiles again and writes something in her notebook, I'd really love to see what she's scribbling in her notebook but right then, the alarm that goes off at the end of all our sessions starts ringing and I inwardly cringe. Ever since I changed my therapist a month ago from the disinterested guy I was assigned to, to Helen, my whole view of my therapy session changed, it became less of a chore and more of a pleasant healing experience. An experience that in recent weeks I'm loathe to put on hold even for a short time.

Helen stops her alarm "As much as much as I enjoy our time Callie, it seems our time for the day is finished. I know you noticed I was writing a lot in my notebook and I also know you were curious as to what I was writing, so I'll tell you." She crosses her legs at the ankle and relaxes in her chair "If you ever see Mr.snack again..." I interrupt before she continues

"Max" I mumble, then saying out loud "His name is Max"

"So you know his name, good" I flush

"You might not have said anything regarding him, but your mouth says one thing, and your body language says another. I think you might be interested in him."

"How is that even possible, I met him once. One time"

"One time is enough dear, there are a lot of people who experience love or lust at first sight, just look at me and my husband, I knew I wanted him the minute I saw him".

Thinking about my therapist in that way gave me the ick so when I grimaced she just laughed and I shrugged apologetically. I get up to leave and Helen sighs and says

" Callie, you need to think about yourself and start living in the present, by not opening up, you risk loneliness and self isolation."

"I open up to you plenty isn't that enough?" She tuts and says " That's not what I meant and you know it, you are a young girl, beautiful, with a lot of potential, it is okay to want to be happy, no one would begrudge you your happiness."

Later, I'm in school and on my way to class but the only thing in my head is the advice that Helen gave me, I'm so deep in thought that I don't notice where I'm going until I bump into a wall, hard.

"Ouch", I grab my head and look up, turns out, the wall isn't a wall but a back, a very nice very broad back. Suddenly, the scent of the owner of the back hits me right in the face, the smell of the breeze before it rains mixed with something woodsy, earthy and clean. The owner of the perfect back turns around and for a moment, every sound fades into background noise and then comes back with a engeance, and I have only one crystal clear thought.

He's here, after a week of dreaming about him, he's here right in front of my very eyes