Her Therapist

Chapter 32.

SEBASTIAN

I'm dying.

What?

"What, Ingrid, I... What?" I shake my head and widen my eyes in disbelief.

"I'm dying", she repeats as if I haven't heard her the first time.

"I heard that, but..."

"I'm going, I don't wanna..."

"Mery... I mean, Ingrid... Wait. Wait!", I shout through the apartment when she starts walking to the door.

"Wait." I grab her waist, and she refuses to turn her face to me. I pull her by her waist, and she still doesn't face me, and when I want to grab her chin, she just buries her head in my chest. Crying. "Hey, Mer... Ingrid, I will never be able to adjust to your new name."

"It's my real name", she chuckles through sobs, and I caress her head.

"Yeah, I know..."

"You can still call me Mery, though. I don't mind." She lifts her face to me. "I kinda like it." I wipe her tears, and she nuzzles her cheek in my palm. With the other thumb, I wipe her tears and place a kiss on her cheek. She offers me a kind and lazy smile. "I shouldn't have told you."

I frown, and she tries to move from my grip, but I tighten it even more, not letting her go. She shakes her head. "Sebastian... Let me go, I have to go."

"You're not going anywhere. You and I are about to spend a nice evening and talk like you wanted. What it was that you wanted to talk about? Your day? Stress? We'll talk about it."

She shakes her head. "Now you'll look different at me."

I frown. "How different?"

"You'll pity me."

"Mery..." I move hair from her face and tug it behind her ear. "Should I remind you that I'm a therapist? I don't pity people when they tell me their problems."

"Have someone told you that they were going to die?" I sigh and lift my head to look at the ceiling. "I assume that's a no."

"I'm still new to this. I've started working recently", I rush to explain. "But I promise you I can..."

"You can what, Sebastian?" I noticed that she started calling me by my full name, and suddenly I miss her to call me Seb instead. "I don't need your help. I don't need a therapist. I..."

"What is that you need then, Ingrid?"

"I..." She averts her gaze, but I move her chin so she is looking at me. "I needed someone who doesn't know. My brother is going crazy. He's as well a doctor, and he can't stop trying to pull some strings and help me, when", she takes a deep breath, "there's no help for me. It is what it is. I made peace with it. He hasn't."

"You are hundred percent sure that it can't..", she doesn't let me finish.

"I'm sure", she sighs. "All the doctors confirmed it. And he just keeps taking me to other specialists. I'm sick of it. I just want to live what I have to live and enjoy it. Without his pity looks, without chemo, without stupid, and impossible promises to keep. Why should I spend my last months suffering, when I can enjoy them, right?" She smiles widely, and honestly, and I join her.

"Of course", I caress her hair.

"It's a wig", she admits.

"I don't mind. It's beautiful. And I bet you're beautiful without it."

"I'm not taking it off!", she rushes to say.

"And I wasn't going to ask you to", I explain. "C'mon, let's sit at the table. I'll go wash my hands quickly." I let go of her, and leave the door of the bathroom open in case she decides to leave, 'cause, yeah, I'll chase her down.