The Thief Who Saved My Life

Chapter 12

I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here.

Yet, here I am.

Sitting in an awful waiting room, with leather furniture that feels new but looks straight out of the seventies. The whole office has a citrusy scent, like someone cleaned the whole thing this morning with a whole bottle of Pine-Sol. My bet is on the overly cheery receptionist. He's like something out of a cartoon. Neat, preppy hair. A light blue dress shirt and slacks. Perfect teeth that are honestly too white. He introduced himself as Deen Jacobs, intern. Just like that. "Deen Jacobs, Intern!" Like it was some super special title. I half expected him to whip out a badge. 

After letting me know that Dr. Phillips would be out shortly, he proceeded to tell me all of his credentials. Psychology undergrad and apparently Dr. Phillips' unofficially adopted younger brother. He was also incapable of allowing me to wait for my appointment in silence. He jabbered on the entire time. I didn't say much, but I didn't completely mind his chatter. It helped distract from the nerves and how much I didn't want to be here.

And it didn't last too long. The door opened and a familiar face smiled warmly at me. I hadn't seen her since I was in the hospital and even though I'd hoped that would be the last time, seeing her again relaxed me. Oh, I still didn't want to be here and I wouldn't admit it to her, but she'd helped me.

Without her suggestion, I wouldn't have met Talon.

I stood up and forced my feet to close the distance between the two of us. I paused, waiting for her to yell at or chastise me for not attended therapy like she recommended. I wonder if she'll try to bill me for the appointment I never showed up for.

"How've you been?" Dr. Margaret Phillips asks wearing a wide smile as she ushers me into her office.

The office is nothing like the waiting room, it's painted a warm sort of sea-blue-green color that I imagine was chosen for the tranquil appearance. The ivory plush sofa isn't anything like I imagined would be in a psychologist's office - I pictures and old, brown leather sofa that squeaks when you sit on it. She has a nice oak desk with an office chair behind it, but she doesn't walk behind the desk and take a seat. She gestures for me to relax on the couch while she takes a seat in an accent chair with a floral pattern on it that compliments the room.

Undeterred by my lack of answer, Dr. Phillips, smiles. "After you missed our scheduled session, I wasn't sure I'd see you again."

I had scheduled an appointment with her for the Thursday after I got out of the hospital, but I did it more to get her off my back than because I intended on showing up. I had, and have, no desire to sit here and talk about my feelings. I sit carefully on the couch so not to tweak my bruised and very sore ribs and pull a throw pillow onto my lap, picking at a loose thread.

"That was the plan," I say rudely but Dr. Phillips' patience doesn't falter. "My father decided it was necessary. So I'm yours, Wednesdays and Fridays at four for the foreseeable future."

"I'm glad your dad encouraged to speak with me." She has a notebook in her lap but she doesn't open it or look like she plans to make any notes. Aren't they supposed to make notes or something? I feel like she should be doodling unflattering pictures of me at the least. But nope. I have her full attention. "Why don't you tell me what you've been up to since we last spoke."

I stay quiet. I'm not trying to be difficult but I don't want to talk about this with her. In the hospital she tried to be my friend... she told me to make friends. And I've taken her advice, I guess. I found a friend. Maybe even two. Of course, after the party a couple nights ago, I haven't heard from either one. I missed school the last two days because my ribs hurt too much, but I didn't get so much as a text from Talon. I've been too nervous to call her, I can only imagine what Tyler told her. So I guess I might be back down to zero.