“Yes.”
“I’m Ida,” she said with a smile. “Come with me.”
I followed her up a narrow flight of steps and through a wood paneled door. Ida’s office was small and stark, the furniture sparse. It was almost monochromatic, with eggshell walls and abstract art; geometric patterns flourished and faltered within frames of brushed aluminum. A neat row of certificates were displayed on an otherwise bare wall proclaiming to Ida’s numerous areas of expertise. A tall, narrow window positioned behind a solid oak desk cast little light into the dimly lit room. “Over here, darling,” she said, waving at a brown leather lounge chair in the center of the room. “You can sit here. Put that shawl over you if you get a bit chilly; I like to have the window open. You can smoke in here if you want.”
“It’s okay; I don’t smoke,” I said, settling myself into the lounge.
“Wonderful to hear, love; I wouldn’t recommend it,” she said with a quick, throaty laugh. “Though you don’t mind if I do?”
“No, I don’t mind,” I replied. She drew a cigarette from a silver case and lit it with a fluorescent pink Zippo. She took a long drag and sighed with pleasure, blowing the smoke out the window. Then sitting at her desk, she regarded me carefully.
“You’re a pretty one,” she said. “How old are you—sixteen? Seventeen?”
I pulled the dark blue shawl across my body. “Turning eighteen. It’s my birthday in a few days.”
“Well, happy birthday in advance!” she said brightly. “Are you comfortable, dear?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Any plans for your big day?”
“No, not yet.”
“Anything you’re hoping for?”
Rad’s face filled my mind in the same way a camera lens brings a blurry image sharply into focus. I felt a tug of longing in my chest—one quickly replaced with a wave of guilt.
“No, not really,” I lied.
She gave me a thoughtful look.
“So,” she said with a smile, “tell me what brings you here.”
I shrugged. “My parents, I suppose. They think I have issues.”
“And how do you feel about that?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Mum drives me crazy.”
“She does?”
“Yeah, she’s always on my case. We had a huge argument just this morning.”
“Oh?” said Ida, taking another drag of her cigarette. “What was it about?”
“It’s a long story,” I mumbled, looking away.
“Well, we have almost an hour to kill.”
I smiled in spite of myself.
“She cheated on my dad a few years back. I don’t like thinking about that period in our family’s history.”
“And that’s the reason why you were arguing? About something that happened years ago?”
“No, not really. Once in a while I bring it up.”
“As a weapon against her?”
“Only when I want to go nuclear. I know it’s wrong.”
“So what was the argument really about?”
I shook my head. “Something stupid, I don’t know.”
“About a boy?” she guessed.
I was about to deny it, but I could see from her expression that I had given myself away.
“It’s so cliché, isn’t it?”
“There’s a reason why things in this world turn into clichés. It’s because they’re common,” she said with a smile. “So does this boy have a name?”
“His name is Rad. It’s a messy situation.”
“Why?”
“I met him at a funeral—he’s Ana’s boyfriend.” After a short pause I added, “She’s a girl I went to school with. It was her funeral.”
“Oh,” said Ida. “What happened to Ana?”
“She took her own life.” I bit down on my lip and looked away.
“I see,” she said, with a heavy sigh. “What a terrible tragedy.” She stubbed out her cigarette on a red heart-shaped ashtray, her eyes meeting mine. “So, you’re feeling guilty about your attraction to Ana’s boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” I said, twisting the tassel ends of the blue shawl around my forefinger. “Plus, to complicate matters, I have a boyfriend too. His name is Duck.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Since forever.”
“And how do you feel about him?”
“Well, he’s like family to me. He lives just down the street, and our mothers are best friends. Duck’s been there for every birthday, every Christmas, practically every milestone in my life. I suppose it was a natural thing, for us to wind up together.”
“How long have you been an item?”
“Since we were fourteen. He saved my life.”
Her eyes widened. “He did?”
I nodded. “I had an accident, down by the lake. I almost drowned, but he saved me. After that, I suppose I felt like . . .” I paused.
“Like you were in some way indebted to him?”
My mind shot back to that night I snuck into Duck’s bedroom. Up until then, there was a firm line drawn, at least for me. Until he pulled me from the bottom of that lake, from certain death, I thought of him as a friend and nothing more. Although I never said it out loud, I did wonder from time to time whether we would have been a couple if I had never gone to the lake that day.
“When someone saves your life, I suppose you do feel a sense of obligation.” I frowned. “Not that I don’t love Duck; I just feel like we don’t have anything in common.”
She nodded. “And do you know how he feels about you?”
“Duck has this fixed idea in his mind about the two of us. He’s studying law next year like he always planned, and once he gets his degree, he wants to settle down.”
“What do you think about his plan?”
“I think it’s something I always went along with because it was so far off in the future that it didn’t feel real to me. Now that it’s getting closer, I feel panicky about it. I don’t want that life. Maybe I did once, but since I met Rad, it feels like there’s a whole other dimension.” I paused and chewed on the tip of my thumb. “It’s almost like there was only an up and down before him, but now I have discovered you can also go sideways too. Does that make any sense?”
Ida nodded. “Actually, it makes perfect sense.” She reached across her desk and grabbed a notepad and pen. “It’s clear you’re going through a tough time,” she continued. “Are you in your final year at school?”
“Yeah.”
“So you have your upcoming exams to deal with too.” She gave me a sympathetic look. “No wonder you’re finding it difficult to cope.”
“I am. Everything seems to be happening all at once.”
“You poor thing,” said Ida as she scribbled something on her notepad. “Were you close to Ana?”
“No, but my best friend, Candela, was really close to her.”
“And how is she doing?”
“I’m not sure,” I frowned. “She seems to be okay, which is weird. I thought she would be a lot worse.”
“Everyone grieves in their own way.”
“I suppose.”
“And your problems began only recently?” Ida asked. “After Ana’s death? How did you feel, when you heard the news?”
“Shocked at first. Numb, if anything.” I felt a chill go down my spine, and I pulled the blue shawl tighter around my body. “But later that night—well, it was weird. I had this sensation I’ve never experienced before. It was like . . . my mind was being pulled from my body. That’s the only way I can explain it. I thought I was going crazy. I’ve been looking up the symptoms online, and I think it was a panic attack.”
Ida nodded. “I would say that’s what it was. Have you had another one since?”