Page 37 of The Striker

Page List
Font Size:

“What about it?” she asks, a small furrow between her brows. Did she already forget?

“The game against Crown Point?”

Recognition dawns on her. “Oh. So, umm …”

“It would be cool if you came,” I tell her before she has the chance to make up some kind of excuse. “Maybe bring some of the swim team with you if you’ve gotten to know any of them.”

She chews her bottom lip. “I’ll ask.”

It’s not a no, so for tonight, it will have to do.

10CECILIA

Sunday is therapy day. Yay.

That’s sarcasm, in case I wasn’t clear.

My phone buzzes and since Dr. Walker hasn’t come in yet, I take a quick glance at the screen.

Adriana: Think of your therapist like a five-year-old child.

Weird. Why would I do that?

Before I can respond, another text comes in.

Adriana: You’ll be less likely to want to strangle her when she asks you invasive questions.

She’s not wrong.

The door opens and Dr. Tabitha Walker steps inside. I type out a hasty “thanks” to Adriana and tuck my phone back into my pocket.

“Good morning,” she says, taking a seat across from me.

“How’s your week been?”

“Fine.” I tell her, already hating this conversation, but that’s not anything new.

“Anything you’d like to chat about today?”

“Nope.”

She scowls before heaving a long, suffering sigh. “Cecilia, we’ve been seeing one another for a while now, wouldn't you agree?”

Four months, three weeks, and six days. But who’s counting?

“Mm hmm.”

“These sessions would be much more productive if you chose to confide in me. I’m here to help. You know that, right?”

I huff out a breath. “I know,” I tell her. “But that doesn’t make this any easier.”

She smiles. “We’ll start right there. What about speaking to someone like myself makes you uncomfortable?”

It’s a struggle not to roll my eyes, but I manage it. “Everything about this is uncomfortable,” I tell her. “I don’t need to share my damage. No one wants to bring their trauma up to the surface. It’s awkward, and it won’t make me feel any better.” It’s hard enough keeping that shit buried deep down.

“How do you know unless you’ve tried?”

Trust me. I know.