The Fragility of Hope (Mavi)

Chapter 20

I feel like this chapter puts the whole story into perspective - it is the end, after all :)

An epilogue is still undecided.

Thank you all for reading. <3

***

Avi jittered his leg nervously and kept his eyes glued to the carpet, watching his dingy converse tap against the carpeted floor quietly. It was better to keep his eyes locked down than to look up and see the dark and professional office mocking him, because he suddenly felt very out of place. His jeans and t-shirt combined with the long hair he'd thrown into a messy bun didn't nearly compare to the elegance of the woman sitting in an office chair across from him, and he was sure she knew that.

He could still feel her calculating eyes on him as she waited for him to speak first, but he didn't dare move his mouth. She was so calm and collected with every one of her actions that it intimidated him, but the most highly proclaimed psychiatrist in the LA area needed to keep up with appearances. And she definitely kept up with appearances -- her black and dressy blouse was tucked under her stark gray pencil skirt, and complimented her dark skin wonderfully. Her eyes were absolutely smoldering, and he refused to look back up to meet them. She was very, very intimidating, and Avi was very, very intimidated.

He finally peeked his eyes up to meet hers when the tense silence in the room became too much to bear.

"Please don't make me answer that."

Her smile was so warm and inviting that he knew it had to be a ruse. She crossed one of her pencil thin legs across the other, and Avi wondered how she could do it so elegantly with the heels she was wearing.

"I don't mean to make you anxious, Avriel," she said with a twinkle in her chocolate brown eyes. He cringed at his full name and then scolded himself for giving her the reaction she was expecting -- she called him that on purpose to elicit that reaction, because nothing she did was without purpose. Like making him anxious. "But it's customary that I ask, because I've put it off for far too long in this session."

Yeah. He understood why she asked it, but he still didn't want to answer it. "Um..." What did he say to that? How did he respond to a question like that? "I mean, I know, but you... you won't like my answer, is all."

"I don't care what your answer is either way," she reminded him. Of course he knew that -- it was one of the first things she made sure he understood. "I'm a neutral character. Everything that's shared in this office is confidential."

He sighed to himself and played with the seams on his jeans. He'd been in this room for a very long time by now, and he hadn't felt uncomfortable until she dropped the bomb like that. Their conversation so far wasn't even small talk, either -- it was all packed with heavy questions about his views on life and his relationship with his parents, and how he really felt about his career and overprotective friends. But as soon as she asked this... He knew that things were only starting to get serious.

He had to answer honestly. That was why he was here, wasn't it? For a solution? To get better?

"I, um..." He trailed off awkwardly. "Yeah. I still think about it. A lot, actually. Every day."

She nodded and scribbled out something onto her clipboard, and for some odd reason it comforted him. It reminded him that this wasn't just another friend telling him not to die, it was a medical professional suggesting that he didn't. Maybe that's why she made such a point of doing it, because after all, nothing she did was without purpose. It helped him relax back into his slouched state, with his feet parted widely and his elbows resting on his knees.