The interior of the therapists office was no doubt strategically designed. The caramel gold walls, dark wood furniture, plush apolstery, and dim yellow lamplight made the whole place look warm and welcoming. As if you'd just walked into someone's personal bedroom, their most intimate and comforting space. The glum looking girl, with her limp, Sandy blonde hair and amateurly applied "goth" makeup, didn't fit at all with this enviornment.
Nonetheless, she felt somewhat secure here. She busied herself looking around the room, as her therapist, Mrs. Braith, hadn't arrived yet. The woman's taste way a hybrid of grandmotherly and professional. Tasteful wooden or metal baubles sat next to blocks and board games on her shelf. Children's drawings hung in frames on the walls, while files littered the desk. The woman was a delightful mess.
The door creaked as it was opened, and the thin elderly woman entered the room. A red Afghan was draped around her bony shoulders, her hair was short and salt-and-pepper grey, but a jovial smile was stretched across her face. Though her appearance may have suggested frailty, her attitude was always joyous and even youthful.
She smiled gently as she sat in her desk chair across from the girl. "Hello, Ashe. How have you been this week?"
The girl was quiet for another moment, before responding with a soft "Fine." In quiet places like this, she barely even wanted to breathe. She hated disturbing the stillness.
Mrs. Braith leaned forward, her tiny elbows resting in the desk, sensing the lie immediately. " Ashe, do you think that you're ready to take another test today? Last time, you didn't really get much of a result for us to work of of. I just want to try and get a feel of the areas you might need to work on."
Ugh, it was always work. Work on your focus, work on your hobbies, work on your coping skills. It was too exhausting for Ashe to even think about that. Her headache from her fit of crying earlier that day hadn't subsided yet either. She just wanted to sleep. But, she had to do something to keep Mrs. Braith and her fosters from digging to far into her.
"okay, I'll take another one."
The therapist looked relieved. "Very good. Here"
She handed Ashe the testing device. It was small and round. Kind of like a Gameboy, but not fun or entertaining at all. The exact opposite actually. The test consisted of about 100 relatively simple questions about things you do, enjoy, what you think, or other things like that. Easy questions, that Ashe hated to the core of her being. It always took her nearly the full hour to complete, as she stressed and lamented over every single question, almost always coming up with the same answer. There were always five options, from "Highly agree" to "Highly Disagree" with a very neutral "I Don't Know" in the center. This is usually seemed to be her safe place, but too many neutral answers lead to an inconclusive test result, and more sighs and lectures from the therapist. This test, as much as Ashe had tried for it to be, was no different.
Mrs. Braith thanked her for taking the test, but was obviously disappointed with the results. "I feel like you just really aren't trying, Ashe. Doesn't any of this matter to you? Your situation is really... Look, you have some problems that you need to work out. Don't you want to feel better? Keeping the kind of stress and emotions that you are going through right now bottled up isn't healthy. I want to help you. I really do. You're a great girl. But I can't do anything for you if you are going to continue to be so unresponsive."
Ashe figeted in her seat, trying to think of a way to answer. Before she thought of anything helpful, Mrs.Braith said "I'm thinking maybe it's time you had a family therapy session with your mother. Would you like that?"
Ashe nearly jumped out of her seat, immediately thinking of a thousand things she wanted to say to her mother. "Yes, I would like that."
"Alright, I'll contact your caseworker and we'll get it scheduled. I Will be supervising the visit, of course. But I think this may be helpful. You can go now for today. I'll see you next week."
Sadie, Ashe's foster mother, was putting her daughter in the car seat when she came out of the office. "You ready to go?"
"Yea. Are we doing anything tonight?" Ashe felt like there had been something else, but wasn't sure.
Sadie hopped in the driver's seat of the white SUV, adjusting her mirrors before backing out of the driveway. "It's Friday, ain't it? We're having dinner with Joe's grandparents."
Ashe had forgotten what day it was. She wished she had worn something else. Though it didn't matter much what she wore, she didn't want too look too thrown together. She liked her foster father's grandparents. They were sweet people.
Luckily they would be going back to the house first so she could change. She considered comminations all the way home.
Her room was dark as she entered it, but the first thing she saw was a photo on her nightstand. She knew she had it, but didn't remember putting it there. It was a photo she'd developed herself. A black and white photo of herself, her siblings, and her mother. She didn't know why she kept it. Just looking at it made her want to explode. She grabbed the clothes she wanted from a nearby drawer, then slammed it shut after tossing the photo inside. She didn't want to see it for at least another week.
Then she'd deal with her mother in person.
(sorry, I know this is still bad writing. I'm working on it, but I can't get inspired easily. I'll keep trying though.)
