The Bucketlist

42 | COUNSELLING

"You better have something good to come on weekdays!" Mikhail said, groaning as I entered his office.

The place smelled like scrambled eggs and bacon, and I realized Mikhail was eating when I sat across from his desk. Putting two spoons from the scrambled eggs in his mouth, he stared at me as if I was a culprit.

"Did I interrupt something?" I asked, and he rolled his eyes.

"Go on, don't wait for me. Say what you have to." Mikhail mumbled.

"You are paid for this! At least try to act professional, dude!" I said, and his eyes turned wide.

"I am not a full-time therapist. I have other jobs to take care of!" Mikhail said.

That's the reason why he only scheduled our sessions on Sunday! I thought he was considerate as I had office hours to look forward to, but that's that. Mikhail got me all curious.

"You said you have other jobs. What jobs?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

I knew Arthur Conan Doyle was a part-time doctor and part-time writer. My suspicions grew.

"Come on, Evangeline! I didn't clear my writing schedule to answer questions about my life!" He complained.

"So you are a writer too! What do you write? Non-fic?" I said excitedly.

"I write teen fic." He said, and then the room was set with dead silence.

"What? Which publication?" I asked, and he smirked.

"Bexley, of course!" He said, and I thought I heard it wrong the first time.

Was there any other publication named Bexley? Was he fucking with me? That was not a good joke if he was to crack me up.

"What are the names of your books?"

Mikhail got me on the hook. If Books, Bexley's, and Teen Fic are involved, I can not let the conversation die out. How come I never heard of him when I looked after the teen fiction section all the damn time?

" 'Where the sun rises' was the last one, and the one I am working on is called 'Maybe, meant to be'... Hopefully, it will be published this year!" Mikhail said, and my jaw fell to the ground.

These were the novels Bexley's renowned novelist Sparks had written. They were considered masterpieces of Teen Fic. I was going bonkers. 

"You are Sparks?" I asked, wide-eyed.

I thought the girl who dropped off the manuscripts at our scheduled meetings was Sparks. I didn't even know Sparks was a Fifty-year-old man and my damn therapist. Oh, God! How was I going to cope with the surprises all at once? Where am I supposed to go?

"That's the pen name. Do you know another coincidence? My editor is named Eva, though I have never seen her! She is a good one there..." This guy here was Sparks? Holy. Shit.

 I loved Sparks' writing. I was supposed to be happy, but I wasn't. Awkward. It felt like the time Martha told me; I could not marry Tom Cruise because he was already married. She didn't tell me that Tom Cruise married thrice, and there was still a chance, but by the time I grew up enough to know how it works, I no longer wanted to marry Tom Cruise.

How was I supposed to tell him that I was his goddamned editor, the one he thinks is good at her job? How? Maybe, I will figure that out later.

"Never mind that. What are we going to talk about today?" He asked.

"I think I have feelings for my boss," I said.

"I always knew that! Nothing new there." He said, chewing the bacon.