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Calida
“How was your week?” Dr. Carr asked as she pushed her glasses up on her nose.
“Good. How was yours?”
She smiled at my question and put her notepad down on the table. “It was very nice. Thank you for asking.”
She leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs, and waited. I leaned back and mirrored her
actions. I came here week after week and told her edited versions of my life. Now I had to decide how much to tell her this week. The silence stretched on, she got paid regardless of if I talked or not.
“Malcolm is buying a house,” I blurted out.
“Tell him I said congratulations.”
“He said he bought it for us.”
“Last week you weren’t sure if you wanted to be in the relationship, but now you’re moving in?” she asked, repositioning herself in the chair.
This week I still wasn’t sure, but he’d been upset with me last Sunday. I hated the look of disappointment, and I hated being the reason behind it. I cared for Malcolm deeply and didn’t want the confrontation.
“No, I’m not moving in, although he would love for me to. He would love for me to do a lot of things,” I added, getting up. I needed to walk around and not see her scrutiny over my every action. My every word.
“What do you mean by that last comment?”
“Nothing. We’re just trying to figure out how to make it work. This going from friends to…” I paused, searching for the right word. Lovers? No not that, never that. “Dating. I’m just afraid that he’s going to realize that the woman he thinks he’s in love with doesn’t exist anymore. And when that happens…well, there’s a lot more at stake.”
Dr. Carr picked up her notepad and started writing. I rolled my eyes. I hated that she would probably be analyzing everything I said later trying to solve the “mystery” behind my troubles.
“Who do you think he loves if not the woman standing in front of me?”
Circling the ring around my finger, I watched the people below. The city was always so busy, people coming and going. I wondered how many of them were like me; simply going through the motions of life.
“He loves Ginger, but she’s not around anymore. Seth made sure of that.”
“Ginger? Who is she?”
I turned and gave her a weak smile. “Me. It’s a stupid nickname. One that used to have special meaning between Mal and me.”
“Used to? What changed?”
Closing my eyes, I breathed in a slow inhale. I smiled, thinking about the first time Malcolm called me that, how I felt special over something so simple. I’d had a crush on Mal for the longest time, so for him to notice me—really see me as more than just Macy’s friend—I’d been in heaven that night.
Then memories of the first night Seth had called me Ginger came flooding back without warning. The pain. The humiliation. All still just as fresh as the night it happened. That Thanksgiving was the first, but it certainly wasn’t the last time Seth had called me Ginger during one of his punishments. My hand went to my back, feeling the scar through my light, cotton T-shirt. He’d killed that special feeling, replacing it with something dark and ugly. I worked hard to not cringe each time Malcolm called me by that name.
“Calida?”
I turned back to face Dr. Carr. She held a tissue out toward me. I touched my cheek; I hadn’t realized a tear had escaped.
I took it before I sat back down. “Thanks.”
“Where’d you go just now?”
I shook my head, not wanting to voice those thoughts. Those, more than others, I’d worked the hardest at keeping locked tightly away. They had been stored in the deepest part of my mind where I thought they’d stay, but this last week had proved me wrong. Malcolm’s increased attention, as well as the increased use of that name every time he was being sweet to me, had tapped into those memories.
“The name had meaning to me, so Seth set out to change it. Sorta like that experiment with the dog. Change through systematic conditioning.”
“Why would you liken yourself to a dog?”
