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“Pretty good, I think. I like her, and she didn’t make it weird even though it’s strange I was seeing her as a counselor for months but can’t remember any of it.”
A few days ago, Arthur mentioned that I’d been seeing Dr. Esther Walters as a counselor and asked if I wanted to keep the appointments I’d made. I was hesitant but said yes because it seemed like the smart, mature thing to do.
My mind is such a mess right now that counseling definitely makes sense. I don’t want to be foolish or petty or childish, resisting the things that might help me. But I’m also not in the habit of spilling out my most private thoughts and feelings to a stranger.
I was dreading the appointment, but Dr. Walters is quiet and gracious and didn’t push as much as I feared. Talking through my strange situation wasn’t as difficult as I imagined.
“You always liked her a lot.” He hasn’t started driving yet. He’s still stopped by the curb as I settle myself and put on my seat belt.
“And the appointments seemed to... help me?”
“Yes. I think so. It took a while, but you started seeing progress. You worked through a lot of the emotional baggage from your father—at least, that’s what you told me. And you seemed more... at peace. Settled.” He’s not looking at me now. He’s staring out the windshield at an empty spot in the air. His voice thickens with a nameless poignance as he adds, “You were... happy.”
“I was?”
He meets my eyes but then quickly looks away. “I think so.” His breath catches. “I thought so.”
I fight the urge to squirm, unsure why the soft words make me feel so vulnerable. “Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll keep seeing her. It’s been a long time since I remember being happy. I’d like to get there again.”
Without thinking, I pull down the visor and study my reflection in the mirror. It’s still the Scarlett I’m used to seeing—amber eyes, straight brown hair, fair skin that flushes easily. But I suddenly realize the face has, in fact, changed from what I remember before my dad died. I lost too much weight in those months in exile. My cheeks had hollowed out in a way that overemphasized my cheekbones, and the line of my jaw and neck had looked almost gaunt.
My appearance had been closer to a fashion-model ideal, but it wasn’t who I am. I must have been eating better in the past few months. My face is fuller. Softer. Has more natural color.
I’m startled by how pretty I look right now in the afternoon light.
“What is it?” Arthur asks, noticing my distraction.
I shrug and flip up the mirror again. “I just realized I look better now than I did before my dad died. It makes me think you’re right. Iwasdoing better. I was happy.”
“You’ll get there again.”
“I hope so.” With a sigh, I shake away the wistful reflections. “She said I have another appointment on Friday. So I was seeing her twice a week?”
“You started at three times a week but then moved it to two when you were making progress.”
“Oh. Okay. To tell you the truth, I’m surprised I even thought of getting counseling.” I slant him a look, wondering if he’ll confirm my suspicions.
He does. “It was my idea. I suggested it. You were rather annoyed with me at first.”
“Why was I annoyed? It seems like a reasonable suggestion given everything I was going through.”
“It wasn’t because you thought it was unreasonable. It was because you thought I was intruding on your life. You didn’t appreciate that.”
I can’t help but giggle. “That seems more like me. How did you convince me to go?”
“I didn’t. You thought about it and came back to me and said you were sorry for being snippy and that counseling might be worth trying. You did some research and liked what you read about Dr. Walters, so you made an appointment.”
“Huh. That was very mature and sensible of me. Good for me.”
He chuckles now, warm and almost fond. “I thought so too.”
“So I guess I’ll keep the two appointments a week. Seems like I could use them.” That brings back another question I’ve been wondering. “By the way, how did I get to my appointments?”
He’s finally pulled away from the curb and turns onto a busy road. He frowns and shoots me a quick look. “What do you mean?”
“I mean how do I get to the appointments,. I don’t have a car, and I’ll need to get myself to my appointments from now on. Did I Uber or something?”
“No. I drove you.”
