Mirror

VII

***
THURSDAYS

THURSDAYS MEANT THERAPY. And after spending the whole night thinking about options to bring up, I found more than a few. Yet, I had no idea how to vocalize them.

The day already started off on the wrong foot. First of all, I woke up 30 minutes after falling asleep, and then each time I looked into my bathroom mirror, my face wouldn't stop melting. I'd ended up running late—no thanks to that.

    Getting ready took an extra hour to do. I ended up using a broken pocket mirror, close enough to touch my eyelashes, to do my makeup. Add another 10 minutes behind schedule because my mom insisted on reminding me of how irresponsible I was.
This had been the only time I was late.

Mistakes, Leila, she preys on you for them.

Dread pulled my lips into a frown just as I entered Dr. Nate's office. My mom's scolding during the car-ride here reset my mood into nothing but bitterness. And sure, I'd love to tell her what I was dealing with and what I felt, but that would have made the lecture even longer. Instead, I sat and waited for the moment I could leave. In return: a headache.

My mood seemed obvious to Dr. Nate. I wouldn't have noticed had he not asked me about it.

"What?" I questioned absent-mindedly.

He took a seat behind his desk and typed away at his computer. "You seem a bit different today. Did something happen?" he repeated.

I shook my head. "No, nothing important. Just my mom telling me the usual things she does."

"And what's that?" he asked. Dr. Nate stood from his desk and moved to the seat in front of me.

My frown deepened just as my eyebrows did. Talking about my mom wasn't the easiest thing to do. There was so much I could say which is what made it hardest. She was a caring, hardworking woman who worried to the point of frustration. It's not her fault she was raised with emotionally unavailable parents who taught her the less you express, the better.

It wasn't my fault I was raised that way either. But with the things she's been through, I don't blame her. I wouldn't know what to do with myself either. I just wish she...

Wish she treated you like a human being? Like a daughter?
   
"I don't really feel like talking about it," I replied. It felt wrong talking about my mom in an environment like this. She's done so much for me to even bring her up here.

The bare minimum you mean.

"That's alright," he smiled. "The table is open to anything you want to talk about. This is your time. So, before we start where we left off, is there something you want to focus on?"

I inhaled. There was a lot I wanted to focus on. There was too much I wanted to dump on the table in just the span of an hour. There was so much that I had no clue where to start. Maybe his sinking floor and warping walls was a good start.
My body scooted further into the seat, away from the ground.

"I'm not sure," I breathed and blinked roughly. "I don't really...feel here right now."

Might as well tell him your face was melting off earlier too. Great thinking, Leila. The sarcasm in my thought's voice itched my skin.