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Maybelle wasn’t feeling strong by any means, but her body was starting to feel more solid, even reliable. Still, by the end of each of the sessions with Annalise, her body would ache to absolute exhaustion.
She had gotten into a routine in which she would wake up at some embarrassingly late hour of the day, eat what she could get down, get through therapy without a scrap of pride or dignity left, eat again, shower, sleep.
Each day a poor regurgitation of the last.
Especially since Trey had left back to school for football training in the beginning of the week. He had spent the rest of the short week after Maybelle had woken up and through the weekend til Sunday morning at the house.
She didn’t see much of him though, due to her “recovering”. They hadn’t spoken nearly as much as that first day, which she couldn't help but be a little disappointed about.
Sure, he was really fun to look at, but she actually liked being around him. He was fun, sweet and someone she could see herself becoming close friends with.
Trey had said before he left for school that he would be back that next weekend and would spend Friday night, Saturday and part of Sunday back home but would have to be back to school before Monday.
Today, Thursday, Maybelle laid supine on her bed, staring up at the white cloud textured ceiling, mentally preparing herself for the torture session she had with Annalise in an hour.
Her gaze meandered and settled onto the three picture frames hung to the wall above her bed. There was a shift in her chest, like a lightweight dumbbell had been placed there to rest making it almost painful to breathe.
When Maybelle had first seen the pictures, she could only focus on facts, pointing out her own face, and acknowledging the other unfamiliar faces of the people she needed to remember. The photographs now only loomed over her as a reminder that she was a stranger in her own body, an outsider that had no real connection to the world around them.
That terrified her.
Stressed her the hell out.
Especially when Trey or Chelsea had sat and waited for her reaction whenever they noticed her lingering stares on the pictures. She knew it deflated them every time she could only look away and move on. No recognition for the people her own image was pictured beside.
She tried desperately, in the few hours she found herself awake and staring up at the ceiling like she did now, to remember.
Her brain was a massive library of filing cabinets. Aisle after aisle, row after row of filing cabinets filled with memory files, each row labeled. She would find the row labeled, “Me”. Track down the cabinet marked as “Family”, and search througheach of the drawers for the information she lacked. But each time, the files were empty, blank.
Her mind was blank.
Two soft knocks clicked against the door.
“Come in.” Maybelle called.
Chelsea poked her head in, bright angelic smile splitting her face, “Good to see you’re awake!” She said sweetly but Maybelle cringed with embarrassment.
It was a couple hours after noon, Chelsea being surprised to see her already awake was proof of just to how lazy she had been.
“I know. I need to get up.” Maybelle acknowledged sheepishly, but Chelsea stopped her from rising off the bed with a soft hand on her shoulder.
“You’re good to rest until your session. I know it takes a lot out of you. Don’t beat yourself up about it though, it will get easier.”
Maybelle snorted, “I sure hope so, Annalise has been telling me the same thing.”
Chelsea reached and brushed a ratted blonde curl from Maybelle’s forehead to behind her ear.
Maybelle adored Chelsea, since she had moved in with the Turners Chelsea had continued to treat her with so much belonging, never making her feel like a burden or even a stranger, though she technically was. Chelsea was one of those people that just made you feel at home, loved, like you were never alone. One of those immaculate souls that felt like you never went a day without knowing her.
“Can I join you?” Chelsea asked gesturing to the bed space beside Maybelle.
Maybelle scooted over, allowing more space for the woman to sit comfortably with her.
Chelsea sat down on the edge, swiping her hands against her palm leaf, green dress pants then adjusted the cute frilly collar of her flowery, white blouse with puffed sleeves that barely capped her shoulders.
The pretty, professional, and girly clothing that Chelsea had worn the last eight days greatly differed from the clothing that now stocked Maybelle’s closet. It was all very basic, neutral colored clothing that leaned more toward comfort and casual. Which Maybelle was eternally grateful for. If she was wearing the blouse that Chelsea wore now, she'd probably die. Frills, puff sleeves and girly flowers were not the move.
Made her feel claustrophobic just looking at the ruffles that brushed at Chelsea’s neck. Maybelle instead wore a very light fabric, long sleeve white top with a low swooping neckline. The bottom of the shirt stopped just over her belly button showing off just an inch of her skin between the shirt and high-rise black yoga pants.
