“I knew you wouldn't like any of the other places around here and, honestly, I didn't want you working at them. You'll fit in wonderfully there, Star. I just know it. And Rosemary is in your grade. I figured it would be easier for you to transition if you already had a friend.”
She looked exceedingly hopeful, expecting me to be grateful. Yes, I knew that The Nook would be the only feasible job for me here, but I wanted to get it by myself. Not to have my life planned out before me.
“So— tell me more about the conceited jerk.” My head snapped up at her sudden change in topic.
I felt myself blushing. I refused to meet my mother's eyes and began picking at my nails. “There's nothing to tell. He's a jerk, and I hope I never see him again.”
“What did he look like?”
“Ugh, Mom! This isn't 'let’s play matchmaker for Star'!”
“Oh come on. We haven't talked in forever without one of us yelling. Please just talk to me.”
“The reason we never talk anymore is because you refuse to believe me! You're wanting me to admit to something that I didn't do, and I don't know how it happened!” I stood up quickly, intent on fleeing the room.
“Your first session of therapy starts tomorrow.”
I stopped short, feeling like ice had been poured down my spine. “So soon?”
“You agreed to this. You don't have another option.”
“Story of my life.” I raced to my room before my mother could see the tears glistening in my eyes.
Chapter Seven
The therapist office was suffocating in its over-achievement to appear soothing. The cool pastel green of the walls was supposed to make one feel soothed. Instead, they grated on my nerves, and caused a slight ache to appear behind my eyes. Hanging plants were placed in every available area that obtained sun, making me feel like I was in the middle of a green house.
I stared at the worn out gray carpet while absently chewing on my thumbnail, and my knee was bouncing from my nerves. I didn't see the receptionist approach until a pair of sparkling white orthopedic shoes came into view. I jumped back from the invasion of personal space.
She smiled kindly and told me that 'James' would see me now. I shrugged and gave the woman a small smile of thanks. Taking a steadying breath, I stood up and headed back to whatever was waiting for me.
From the bright, happy waiting area, the office itself was a major contrast in color choice. Dark cherry wood bookshelves lined the walls with doctorate degrees spread throughout. A heavy desk sat in the middle of the room, facing away from the solitary window on the back wall. Dark brown leather chairs were set facing the desk. I thought this room was far more soothing than the waiting area. I stood in the doorway, waiting for the therapist to take notice of me.
Pecking away at his keyboard, he was blissfully ignorant of my presence. I took a moment to study him while he worked. He wasn't bad looking for an older man. While being obviously in his mid to late forties, his skin held a healthy, sun-kissed glow. While he had laugh lines around his eyes and mouth, other lines weren't apparent, making him seem younger than he was. His hair was slightly long and shaggy with golden streaks throughout the warm brown tones.
I stared at him a moment, feeling like I've seen him before. When he finally looked up, my eyes widened in shock. I knew why he seemed so familiar. He was an older replica of the pizza guy. My eyes locked with the same gold flecked amber ones from the first night. I gave him an awkward smile and shuffled slowly into the room.
He smiled warmly and rose from behind the desk. His large, well-built frame causing a shadow to fall over me. I felt like David in front of Goliath. A friendly Goliath.
“Hello. You must be Starlette.” I lightly placed my hand in his offered one, nervous about the session, and freaked out over the thought of him being related to the pizza guy. That's all I needed at this moment.
“It's Star.” I looked behind him at the mounted clock, and started to slowly count down the minutes until the session was over.
“Ah, I see. Well, let’s get started, shall we?” Gesturing to the chairs he returned to his spot behind the desk.
I sat lightly on the edge of the farthest seat, my hands already starting to twist my hair. “So. You're my therapist.”
“Correct, but you can call me James. It's my understanding that your parents had to bribe you to come and talk to me. Under the agreement of you getting a car, you actually have to talk to me.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk, his steady gaze unnerving me in its intensity.
I felt flustered and started wrapping my hair around my hand faster, never holding his gaze for more than a fleeting second. “Yeah, that's it in a nutshell.”
“Well, then we shouldn't have any problems, should we?” He didn't wait for a reply as he leaned back in his chair, looking for all the world like this was just a normal day in the office. I wished I could seem so casual. “So, since you have to talk, what do you want to talk about?”
I stopped my fidgeting to stare at him. “Um, I don't know. I thought you'd just barrage me with a bunch of questions, and I'd have to answer them.”
He nodded and started to swivel slightly back and forth in his chair. “Well, that could work. However, all we'd get from it would be a bunch of cut and dry answers. That wouldn't really help anything, would it?”
“Aren't you the therapist? You're supposed to ask me how I'm feeling and all that crap. Maybe have me lie down on a couch, and tell you my childhood nightmares or something.” I was baffled. “I don't know how this is supposed to work. If you don't know either, then, obviously, this is a huge waste of time.” My anger started to build as I rose in agitation. He was a lunatic with a degree.
“Ha! So you don't know how this works, right?” He said, pouncing forward in his chair, like he just caught me in the act.
“Um, yeah, I don't.”
“And all you're basing your anxiety off of is what you've seen on T.V. or horror stories from people, right?”
I slowly sat back down again. I hoped he had a point for all of this confusion. “Yeah. I don't see where you're going with this.”
“It's quite simple really. Before you walked in this office, you had a grudge against it without even knowing what it would be like or what would happen here. You've judged me and these sessions negatively. Thus, creating a negative outlook on it.”
“Still I don't see what that has to do with anything.”
“It has to do with this; if you think negatively about everything that goes on here, then we won't get anywhere, and we'll just be wasting time. I'll get paid regardless. There's really not much of a downfall for me. But, I'm one of those damned people who actually like to help, so I would feel bad.”
“Yeah, that makes me feel so much better about you taking my parents money.” I rolled my eyes, and felt myself start to relax.
“Glad we've got your feelings about that out there. Anyways, now that you've admitted out loud that you don't know squat about all of this and that you're judging in a negative way. Also, we've come to discover that with you knowing how you're seeing it that we won't get anywhere until you let go of the prejudices.”
“We did?”
“Yes.”
“When?” I rested my elbows on my knees as I leaned forward. This was beyond confusing. I hated feeling like an idiot.
“Just now. See how you are fully seated in the chair and leaning toward me? It shows that you're relaxed and paying attention. The fact that you're slightly slumped shows that you're comfortable with me and listening to me at the moment. And, you don't have that scared 'deer in headlights' look in your eyes anymore.” His laugh washed over me, making me feel oddly safe, comfortable.