Week 3 - How to write the beginning? / CHAPTER 1
1283 Words
First Wednesday of the month, my least favorite day of all. Want to know why? Because it's my check-up day.
Maybe you’re wondering why? Well, I’m not terminally ill but I go to my therapist from time to time. My therapist lives a forty-minute drive away from our town. She’s not famous but my parents don’t know her that’s why. She has this small clinic at the medical arts of that area, they may be cheap for others but there are also a lot of people depending on inexpensive doctors.
Making my way through the campus corridors is getting harder and harder each passing day. Especially now when new students are gradually starting being overly familiar with each other. Too much noise. I arrived thirty minutes early for my appointment so now I'm waiting here right up front of the physician’s clinic sitting with a lot of empty chairs beside me, well its already afternoon but this building is usually pack with patients in the morning. A lot of empty chairs but this girl sat right next to me, while we’re both seated, she started engaging a conversation.
"The time of month again huh?", she just started making small talks which I hate so I only nod.
"Aaand you're not much of a talker, I see", she puts her face right in front of my face and made a very deep eye contact that made me broke it off. Just what is her deal?
"Macey, and I'm in this line", she casually pointed out a cardiology doctors’ clinic while she added this word "Can I be your friend?" To which I replied with a firm no. I don’t do friendships they’re a lot of work and a lot of emotional traumas. Who would want that? But this Macey is the dumbest person I have ever met. I don’t usually judge people because who am I to judge anyone but she’s pretty dumb. She just continued talking on when she has her check-up here and that her family didn’t know that she comes here. See? If she isn’t dumb, she wouldn’t talk too much about herself with a stranger like me. We just only met.
“Uhm excuse me? Macey, right?” I interrupted her.
“Right!” she smiled.
“Didn’t your parents told you that you shouldn’t talk to strangers when you were young?”
She laughed he head off first which echoed to the whole waiting area and the receptionist gave us a bad look. “Well, they did. But you are not a stranger though”.
“I am to be exact we just met for about…” I casually looked at my watch to see how many minutes we did met “…ten minutes ago”.
She gave me a wide smile and said my name. “Kite, Kite Miller, right? I know you, you’re a second-year architecture major in Saint Claire College, you always look so gloomy that’s why I know you. I always thought ‘wow, a very privileged boy like him doesn’t have the right to look so gloomy at all”. I looked at her with confusion and when I was about to say, are you my stalker? she cut me saying, “I’m not your stalker, please. Don’t put me in that cluster.” Well, you know me and I don’t know you, so what do you want me to think about you, my fan?
I just stared at her signaling like a telepathy of what’s your deal? Why do you know me? Did you follow me all the way here? Then she started talking again as if she really did read my mind. “I’m attending Saint Claire and I’m also in my second-year, I’m an English education major by the way. I know your parents, your dad to be exact he was the anesthesiologist when they operated my dad. Heart problem also”. She also told me that she has the same problem with her dad but she’s only taking medication and not considering surgery, it’s expensive she said. “So? You’re also sick?”, I just sat there silently, I don’t want to talk about it especially to a person I just met. “You’re uncomfortable I see”, she added.
We just sat there in silent for a good five minute when she started talking again. “Want to share a secret with me?”, I just looked at her. “You know how people became comfortable with each other when they both share a secret that nobody knows?”, she grinned and just started telling her story. “My parents thinks that I’m getting better because of the meds but I’m not…” she looked at her feet before she continues “…they usually go here with me when we first found out about this but I convinced them that I’m getting better and that I can do the check-ups on my own…”, she looked at me with sad eyes and asked “…I’m a bad daughter right?”. I don’t know what to say. I don’t do friendships, much less comforting a person.
“Maybe,” I told her. “Or maybe not? You didn’t want to worry them, you’re not bad at that part but they might also want to share the burden with you, just saying.” Contemplating on why I judge her I thought to myself maybe I could trust this person. So, I told her how I am diagnosed with depression and severe anxiety and that my parents didn’t know about it. “But they are such a good person”, she said. “They are, but maybe not towards me? I don’t know”, I just gave her a smile and found myself thankful when she didn’t press on that subject.
“It’s hard. Every day is hard”, I told her.
“Yes, it is”, she added.
We both sat there quietly at the waiting area until we were called in. She got called first and after a few minutes my therapists’ secretary called me to come inside. We had a good talk about my days this past month which I totally hate every visit but today seemed a little different. Maybe because someone knew about me? Or maybe I made a friend? But I left that part out form my therapist cause I’m still not sure if that girl would really be my friend. After all, who would want to befriend a “sad” person as they call.
On my way out from my therapist office, she gave me again the advice that she always says, “Take it easy Mr. Miller, okay?” I nodded and smiled. As soon as I’m out the door I saw her sitting at the chair where we used to sit earlier and she waived at me.
“How was it?” she asked.
On my next check-up, maybe, I should tell my therapist that I finally made a friend.
- Writer
