Hawwa's Paradise

Chapter-6 #Rewritten

Mama: Mother's Brother

Mami: Mama's wife

***

"Excuse me." Qibriyah addressed one of the receptionists who glanced at him from the laptop in front of her. He was visiting a mental health organization called "Health Spring" the day after. "I had an appointment with Psychologist Mahir Chowdhury at 6 pm." He added when the woman looked at him. "My name is Wing Commander Qibriyah Haque." Hearing him, the woman lowered his eyes his laptop. Het finger started working on the mouse.

"Sir, your serial will be called next. Please take a seat." The receptionist turned to Qibriyah handing him a small paper. It had number thirty two written on it. Then Qibriyah walked towards the seats. He sat down at the front row beside a man seemingly to be in his forties. There was a television attached to the wall running advertisements of the organization's services.

"Number Thirty Two!" Qibriyah's head shifted towards the reception desk hearing his serial . "Sir is at room 407. It is the second last room at your right." The receptionist from before announced. Standing up, Qibriyah searched for the room according to the instruction. Coming across the room, he reached for the doorknob. Anticipation was building up inside him. This was his first time consulting a psychologist.

Qibriyah pushed the door open. Chill air released from inside tickling his skin. A man sitting by a table looked up at him. Qibriyah gave him salam.

"Please sit." The man, who happened to be Mahir, added after replying to the salam. He appeared to be in his thirties, a few years younger than him. Closing the door behind, Qibriyah walked ahead and sat on the chair by the table on his side. "How are you?"

"I am fine."

"We will have to fill your patient health record. At first you will have to sign the Confidentiality Agreement papers." Mahir pushed a bundle of papers towards Qibriyah. Taking them, Qibriyah scanned the first page, then started flipping the pages not caring to read more. He had to signature twice as the bundle contained two copies of the agreement. When he returned them to Mahir, it was his turn to sign.

"This is your copy. This is your patient ID." Mahir pointed his finger at a compilation of letters and numbers on the top of the first page of his copy. Qibriyah's eyes hovered towards his own to see the same number. He then gazed up at the psychologist. The man was facing his left, working on a smartphone which was attached to a stand. He glanced at the paper infront of him for a few seconds before returning to the mobile. As much as Qibriyah could see, it had a table printed on, having names, numbers and visitation times of the patients. He didn't spot his name. But then again, he couldn't see the table fully from where he was sitting. Then he started asking Qibriyah on his age, marital status, occupation, blood type, chronic illness, history of substance abuse, deliberate self-harm, number of biological siblings, behavioral addiction, history of bullying, etc while repeatedly shifting his attention from the mobile to Qibriyah.

"What is your family type?"

"Blended."

"Was it divorce or death of a parent?"

"Divorce."

"Did you grow up with both parents after that? How old were you when your parents divorced?"

"I was ten. After the divorce, I was living with my father and had visitations with my mother. But after he remarried, I started living with her, my mama and his family. After my mother remarried I remained at my mama's till I got selected as a cadet in the airforce when I was nineteen. During that period I had visitations with them both." Mahir keenly listened to Qibriyah.

"So should I select the option 'no'?"

"Yes." Qibriyah nodded. Then Mahir turned to the mobile, his right hand starting to work on the device's screen.

"How would you describe your family environment growing up?"

"Prior to the divorce, it had turned toxic when I was seven. It was during that period when their marriage started to go downhill when my mother cheated. In revenge, my father cheated. Then they started to emotionally and verbally abusing each other. Sometimes they even used to hit each other. Before, they were friendly as far as I can remember. After the divorce which occurred when I was twelve, I was living with my father. I was heartbroken with the divorce though, as my family got broken. But their adulteries had created an emotional distance between me and them. I was disgusted." Qibriyah's heart ached due to pain, disappointment and shame. "I was against their remarriage Then when I moved in with my mama, I didn't feel I belonged there. It was not any of my parent's house. And mama-mami didn't treat me as their own kid. My mother didn't expect that from them. She also did the same with my cousins. But it is not like mama-mami ever mistreated me. I felt more like an outsider after my mother moved out after her remarriage." He clenched his jaw anger towards his parents brewing inside. "Even though I wasn't close to her as before, she was still my parent. Her being there gave me a sense of security. On the other hand, neither she or my father cared enough to convince me to live with them now. They were okay with my living arrangement. As if, their new spouses were more important." Mahir nodded, his eyes softened with sympathy. It left a touch of comfort in Qibriyah's heart.

"What was your relationship with your step-parents like?"

"Almost non existent. I hardly spoke to them. I didn't like them. And they didn't care enough to have a relationship with me."

"So should I select "abusive" as an option? For your family environment?" Qibriyah's eyes narrowed as he got immersed in thinking.

"Yes." He responded after a moment.

"Did you face any abuse in your childhood?"

"I did get hit by my parents sometimes."

"As in physical discipline? I didn't mean that. We all have faced it more or less." Mahir dismissed his reply.

"Then none." Qibriyah shook his head.

"Should I assume you were neglected in your childhood by your parents and mama mami?"

"Yes, emotionally neglected." Getting Qibriyah's response, Mahir didn't waste a moment in lowering his eyes back to the mobile. Qibriyah looked around the room while waiting for Mahir's next question. There was a sliding window behind Mahir. It had white curtains pulled to the sides. To the psychologist's left, there was a small bookshelf containing books. Above it, on the wall there were two small abstract paintings hanging. After some seconds, he heard Mahir starting to speak, bringing his eyes to the man infront of him.

"Your health record has been filled up. You can get a print copy of it from the reception or get it emailed to you."