FYWO drabble: Fox & therapy session #1
She twisted her hands around each other, fingers on her right hand toying with the diamond on her left hidden on the palm side of her hand. Her foot tapped on the carpeted floor of the waiting room, her heel making a dulled taptaptap against the floor. She’d worn some of her new clothes, almost like armor, a tough exterior to protect the vulnerable side she was going to be expected to bare. She was here for Roan, she just had to keep reminding herself of that. No matter how uncomfortable she got, she just had to stick it out for him.
Fox Haddock? She looked up as she popped to her feet. “Yes, hi. That’s me.”
The woman’s smile was easy, casually professional. She had on black pants and a soft looking sweater, and despite herself Fox kind of liked her. She looked like a mom, or a teacher. Someone soft and nice and understanding. Maybe this wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. The woman gestured her in and she trotted after her into the room and paused just past the doorway. There was a couch and a chair, both overly stuffed and comfortable looking. There was a desk toward the back corner of the room and the woman took a seat in the comfy chair. You can sit.
Right. Sit. She hurried to the couch and took a seat, and the therapist smiled. A little nervous?
“A little.” She admitted with a shy smile.
There’s nothing to be nervous about. This is about you, you get to dictate what we talk about. What you’re comfortable with. She nodded in acknowledgement. So why don’t we start with why you’re here.
“Don’t you know that? I mean, he recommended you..”
Her smile was still kind. I mean, who’s Roan to you? How would you describe him? Why did you end up taking his suggestion? “He’s my uhm- well he’s not my husband not yet, but we’re together and we’re going to-” A smile made her pause and the woman offered, So your fiancé? She nodded. “Yeah, sorry.” Fiancé, she still had to get used to that word. Old Lady was easier to remember, and covered a wider array between dating and married and every dynamic in between, but she was hesitant to give out too many details that would hint at who he was and what he did outside this room. Her fingers started tracing around the hidden stone again without her realizing it.
No need to apologize. So, why did Roan suggest this? The woman had leaned back, a notepad in her lap but her eyes weren’t on the notepad, they were on Fox. “Uhm, a lot of reasons, kind of.” She pulled the cuffs of her jacket down past her wrists and to her knuckles, her nails picking at her cuticles, unsure where to start.
Start wherever you’re comfortable, Fox. There’s no wrong way to start. She looked up in surprise- was the woman a mind reader?- and the therapist laughed, a kind sound unlike the ones Fox heard around the club bars. You have a very expressive face.
She blushed, nodding in agreement. “I’ve been told.” She took a breath- for Roan, for Roan, for Roan- and started speaking to her hands. “I uhm, I kind of fu- screwed up, about eight months ago. I- I didn’t handle things really well and I sort of, uhm, took off. Just like, up and left. And I did it for a lot of reasons but,” she cleared her throat, “the main reason was because I thought he’d hate me, and I… wanted to leave before that happened…”
God she really didn’t want to go into this. Why had she started here? Tears were pricking at her eyes, not too obvious, not yet, but still she swallowed against the answer ( because i lost his child, i cost him his family ) and just shook her head. “Uhm, actually, can I- can I start over? I don’t really want to start there like, right now.”
Alright. We’ll come back to that. She didn’t want to, not now, not later, not ever, but still she nodded. Anything to get away from the topic of their lost child for the moment. How about you tell me about Roan? Or your family?
She smiled at the mention of Roan. “Roan’s amazing. I don’t really get why he loves me but he does and I’m like, amazed that he does. But really happy,” she added, in case that wasn’t clear. “I love him, even if I did majorly screw up. I’ve been a little stupidly in love with him since we first started talking.” Why stupidly? “Our families don’t get along, like, at all. I ran into him by chance and he gave me a ride home and things just sort of… snowballed from there. I don’t even really know when he started like-liking me.” She realized that sounded odd, and was quick to add, “I mean, in the beginning it was sort of like, a thrill in secretly seeing someone you weren’t supposed to like, you know?” Like Romeo and Juliet, except they didn’t die.
“But it wasn’t really like, a relationship.” When did it start feeling like a relationship for you? She shrugged, her smile turning faded and affectionate. “He started doing stuff with me. Like I’d mention I’ve never been to a concert before and he’d show up with concert tickets. Or I’d say that I’ve never really been to a beach except once for like ten minutes with my mom and dad, and then he’d take me to a beach. He just… I dunno how to describe it, he seemed to want me to be able to do things I’d never be able to if someone didn’t take me.”
Why wouldn’t you? “Because I’m- was, poor as hell.” She laughed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling for a brief moment. “I mean, I know that sounds like b.s. because I have nice clothes and I’m here paying for therapy and all that, but before him I was like, scraping toward the poverty line and that’s only because Felix gave me a job.” Who’s Felix? “He’s uhm- he was in the same foster house I was, but got out a few years before I got there. He helps some of us out sometimes.” She was cagey again, eyes that had been softening and body language that had been relaxing while on the comfortable topic of the man she loved suddenly tense again.
Does talking about Felix make you uncomfortable? She shrugged in a jerky motion. “No.” She looked up when Ms. Martin didn’t respond, to see the other woman looking at her knowingly.”I mean, not Felix. Just- I don’t like talking about the system.” Why not? “Because people look down on foster kids.” Ah. She didn’t like that ‘ah’, that presumptuous knowing ‘ah’, but before she could say something, Ms. Martin was talking again. You mentioned the beach with your parents, may I ask when you went into foster care? She didn’t want to answer, but she was trying this, she had to be game, had to give it a real chance. “Fifteen.”
That must have been hard. “It wasn’t exactly a picnic.” She muttered sullenly, immediately regretting the childish words and looking up. “Sorry.” It’s okay. Do you want to talk about what happened? “No. I mean, not right now, if that’s okay… I just… that’s kind of a sore subject…” I understand. Let me ask you something, Fox; you said you screwed up, but not why you were here. What are you hoping to accomplish here? “Isn’t that sort of what you’re supposed to tell me?” She asked, only half joking.
Ms. Martin smiled, but shook her head. I can’t tell you what you’re going to accomplish here. I can help you get there, but therapy is a journey for self-discovery. I can’t fix anything for you, and I certainly have never met a person that needs to be “fixed” in general.
Fox thought about it for a few long minutes, listening to idly sounds of sound-machine generated water rushing that she hadn’t noticed earlier. “I want to be a better person. I don’t want Roan- or my friends, but especially him- to think I’m just going to up and leave again. I don’t want them wondering when I’m going to ditch again. Because that’s… sort of a shitty person who could do that, right?” She looked plaintively up at Ms. Martin, who was smiling again.
I have faith in you, Fox. We can work toward that.
