Thérapie juste might be

Therapy just might be…

Chapter 1

“Hi, my name is Alice”

“Hello Alice," they all said in harmony.

Their voices sounded so peaceful, as though they had been cured. Cured of the depth of mortality. We were there sitting in these white chairs surrounded by white walls.My thoughts pended as air flows over us. I looked at each one of them judging their appearance. They all had name tags.

“Aren’t you an actress or something?” ask a woman named Morgane.

“In fact, "Was" would be the appropriate term, I’m afraid,” I said slightly looking down at her.

“Was?”

Indeed, I was an actress. I played in many movies but sadly I can’t anymore. My heart is not into it anymore. My mind feels dark and scrambled just like burnt eggs. I wish I had never married him. Never let him in my life. The loss of our child broke me. It paralyzed my reason and my feelings. As I sat in this uncomfortable chair made of plastic, I look at this young girl with a beret. She stared at her feet lost in her thoughts. The therapist had asked her for the third time to tell us her name. She finally spoke in a small voice, now playing with her blond hair nervously.

“My name is Sera.”

“Hello Sera," we all said.

“Well, Sera, tell us why you are here please.” Asked the shrink.

“I got into a fight at home with my parents, they think I am crazy”

“OK, passing on to the next...Natalie?”

“Sure, well I’m Natalie and I had an abusive husband. I put myself here for the sake of my children and to renew myself.” She looked at the therapist for her approval with strong eyes.

“I’ll go next,” said the young Morgane.

“Great, thank you”

“My boyfriend died a couple of weeks ago and I can’t seem to pass through it.”

“I am glad that you are here with us Morgane. Tessa, you’re up next.”

“I don’t know why I’m here but who cares maybe it can help whatever my parents thought it would.” She talked with this nonchalant voice as though she was above us all.

“Well, now that we have made the tour, who would like to talk about something?”

We all looked at each other, judging with the eyes. As nervous as a baby learning to walk, I looked at my phone. I had a text from my husband asking me how I was doing. I didn’t want to answer him. He asked me how I was doing! I called him raging inside.

“You are really asking me how I’m doing?”

“Yes, is something wrong?” His voice trembled like he had cried part of the night.

“Everything is wrong! I lost my child, I lost my life. I’ve lost everything and you are asking me if I am okay!” I was pumped. I was crying and screaming. I could not stay here, I had to leave.

“I lost a child too, Alice!” His voice cracked.

I had made my love die. His cries were slow and I could hear his desperation. I hung up and went to sit alone in a corner crying for the first time, my child. The child that could’ve turned out like any one of these women. My child who I will always love and who will have a gloomy birthday because God took her from us. Her before us, my world has shifted entirely and I might never be the way I was before. I fear that I will never be able to laugh with my sister or niece. I fear that all these feelings will never leave. Darkness covers me like a blanket does at night. When I was a child my mother used to tuck me in every single night. I never went to bed untucked. It made me feel safe, safe from the remoteness that could feel a child. My phone rang straining me from my thoughts. I was still sitting in the corner staring at my phone in my hands. I didn’t need the courage to answer. I didn’t need a push either. I just needed to swipe my finger across the screen. Perhaps, this simple task became a challenge just like dressing up in the morning. The screen finally closed and vibrated seconds after. One missed call was written on it. It rang again. Morgane came up to me and swept the phone. She told my interlocutor that I couldn’t speak with her for the moment.

“What do you mean she can’t talk to me? Please pass me, my sister, right now!”

“I’m sorry but she can’t talk to you right now!”

I shook my head to Morgane telling her to pass me my phone and that I would speak to her.

“What do you want July?”

“Ah, Alice! Have you been crying? Anyway, you need to get your ass back home now.”

“I’m in therapy July, I’ll be back when it’s over.”

“I said get your ass back home now!”

“What is it?”, I said with so uncomfortness that I shivered.

“Now please hurry!”

I got up and looked at the women staring at me. I took my keys and purse running for the door. The shrink looked at me, I felt it. Her eyes were filled with disapproval, she didn’t want me to leave by fear I would never come back. But I had to.

Chapter 2

As I pulled into the driveway, July was sitting on the stairs waiting for me. She got up and threw herself into my arms. She was crying. For what? I didn’t know. My sister was supposed to help me pack my child's future belongings today. I didn’t want that but Shayne thought it would help us grieve. I walked inside, nothing seemed out of place. I heard sobbing coming from the bedroom. It was painted in this light gray with pink accents. I believe I had the eye for these kinds of things. Shayne was there, laying on the floor. He was crying his face wrapped in a baby blanket. It was the one his mother bought for us. The one we were supposed to swaddle her in. I looked at him, my face felt blank. I felt my knees becoming as weak as a wet towel. I fell to the ground tears streaming down my face. This feeling was horrible. Shayne looked at me his eyes full of water. He stretched out his arm and took my hand. As he was pulling me towards himself I thought about that day. The day I told him he was going to be a father. His face lit up. He was so happy that he was talking about it constantly. The day after he bought a bunch of baby books. I knew he would be a perfect father. But now, we were both laying there looking into each other eyes. I believe I truly met him that day. I looked away for a few seconds and saw a knife on the floor. Did he try to kill himself? I had already lost her, I couldn’t lose him too. I put my hand on his neck like I use to when he was stressed. His eyes drew my face with precision.

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