She didn’t know what an office of a therapist was supposed to look like, but she figured this was good enough. It did feel somewhat cosy after all.
“So, Carmen,” the woman sitting on the other identical couch opposite Carmen spoke. “What brings you here?”
Gloria Jacobs was a thin, wiry woman but quite tall too—just not so much that it came off as intimidating. She had skin that reminded Carmen of dark chocolate, and her eyes were just as rich, almost fading into black. Her dark hair with caramel lowlights was pulled back into a bun, with a few loose strands framing the side of her long, oval face.
“Carmen?”
“Sorry,” Carmen mumbled, feeling flustered. “I—uh, I spaced out for a moment there. What was it that you asked again?”
Gloria smiled pleasantly. “What brings you here, to my office?”
“I don’t know.” The words left Carmen’s mouth before she could think them through, but it was pretty obvious to both of them in that room that she was lying, that she did know why she wanted to be there.
Gloria relaxed into her seat, left leg folded over the right one and her hands resting atop one another above the armrest of the sofa.
“You don’t know?” Gloria’s tone was like everything else about her: dainty and laid-back and like she was in no hurry to get anywhere.
When Carmen realised that her tongue wouldn’t move, that everything that she’d planned on saying once she got here had frozen somewhere down her throat, she pressed her lips together in a firm line and dug her fingers into the cushion she was sitting on.
Open up, Carmen. Tell this woman. Tell a complete stranger about twelve years of torment, about almost eighteen years of pain and guilt, she told herself.
“Okay, Carmen.” Gloria nodded once. “Can you tell me what changed? What made you decide to come for therapy now?”
Carmen’s brows furrowed, and the wheels in her head began spinning, thoughts racing each other like mini rockets in her head.
Why had she decided to get help only now? Was it shame that had prevented her this whole time? Why now? What was it that made her decide enough was enough? That she needed to flush out the poison her past had left behind?
“I—I found someone,” Carmen told her, tone uncertain and shaky but Gloria wasn’t frowning or looking at her oddly so Carmen went on. “Someone from my past. They—they came back into my life, and I think—well, certain memories came back with them too. And it’s getting harder to just sweep it all under the rug, I guess.”
“And this is what made you decide to come here? This certain someone was the trigger?”
“No,” Carmen whispered, her sight becoming unfocused as she stared off into nothingness. No, that couldn’t be right. Hunter had been back into her life for quite a while now, and yes, his sudden reappearance did remind her of times they spent together in the Rutherford mansion, but she hadn’t thought about letting herself heal then.
So, what was it?
“Thanksgiving?” Carmen’s frown deepened, noticing that her response sounded more like a question than a direct answer.
Gloria seemed to find that particularly interesting. She leant forward slightly and narrowed her eyes in the most subtle manner—the gesture was so discreet that Carmen would’ve missed it if it weren’t for the fact that she was focusing on every single movement—even the slightest twitch—of this woman.
“What about Thanksgiving, Carmen?”
“Horrible,” she answered, spitting out the first word that came to her mind. “It was when everything changed. When everything I tried so hard to push back to the furthest corner of my mind, it just…everything just exploded, I guess.”
“Okay, Carmen.” Gloria offered her a pleasant smile again. It was the only way Carmen knew how to describe her smile: pleasant. “Is that what you want me to help you with? You want to stop pushing away things that you find…horrible?”
Carmen’s eyes snapped to hers, confusion creasing her forehead. “You’re not going to ask me about Thanksgiving?”
Gloria smiled again and gave a small shake of her head. “We’ll get there, don’t worry. Right now, we’re still in our first session. So, tell me. What is it that you hope to get out of all this?”
That was one answer Carmen didn’t need to think about; it was why she’d come after all. “I want to be able to let people in,” she said tentatively. “To just be able to get along with people better, whether with peers, or…or even form actual friendships. To just—just be able to connect.”
And so, it went. Simple but probing questions were thrown here and there while Carmen did most of the talking, trying to explain over her jittery nerves and racing heartbeats, almost to the point where her words tripped over each other and she had to get a hold of herself before proceeding with her response.
Carmen was certain it hadn’t taken too long, but when their time was up, it almost felt like she’d spent an eternity in that room.
Did it always feel this way? Would it always feel this way? Because it seemed sort of silly, being here and talking to someone she didn’t know about her issues.
Carmen also felt kind of stupid, really. What if Gloria had tended to people with much severe problems? What if she thought Carmen was just lost and making her life seem more suffocating than it actually was?
“Carmen?” Gloria called, looking at her with shrewd eyes. “Is there something on your mind?”
Carmen opened her mouth, then closed it, only to open it and shut it again. “I—uh,” she hesitated, “well, I was wondering if—I know it’s still our
