Reincarnated

She sat across from me, her long fingers curled tightly around the steaming coffee mug. I examined the typical flower pattern on the cup’s surface, noticing a peculiar stain near the chipped handle. I felt only slightly bothered, but not enough to tell her.

“Stephen,” she called me back with that no-nonsense voice of hers, “you and I both know that this is getting ridiculous.” I applauded her cool demeanor, her ability to always be non-personal and say it like it is.

Her transparent eyes searched my face for a change of expression. I didn’t falter; I wanted to show her that I could be just as nonchalant as she was. In truth, though, I wasn’t. I avoided those orbs of gray ice, afraid to fall through them again with nothing to catch a hold of.

Tap…tap… her nails clicked against the ceramic. Underneath the table, I wiggled my toes inside my boots. The heavy coat I was wearing suddenly began to feel very heavy; I began to perspire.

“I was going to leave,” I mumbled, but I know she heard me, “but then I saw Mrs. Jenkins across the road. I didn’t want her to ask questions, so I just sat down in the chair and rocked for a little while.”

Sasha Stone pursed her lips with silent disapproval. “Stephen,” she said again, “you have to talk to someone. Stop hiding from your past and face it already.” I listened for anger in her voice but found none.

Sasha Stone did not get angry.

“I’m talking to you,” I pointed out quietly, meanwhile wiping carelessly at the thin film of sweat above my upper lip. Sighing heavily, she pushed my shaking fingers away from my face and wiped the moist area herself with a random napkin. I didn’t thank her for the small favor; she treated me like a child.

“You have nothing else to say?” she asked hopelessly. I shook my head no.

Nodding, she stood up from the kitchen chair and ran her hands down her expensive Armani suit. I didn’t know whether she knew that it was perfect just the way it had been when she had first come in, no wrinkles at all.

Helpfully, I offered Sasha her briefcase. She took it from me without a word and turned on her heel to leave. I wondered if she was disappointed.

After she was gone, I gently lifted up the corner of the kitchen curtain to watch her climb into her silver convertible. I heard the engine purr to life as she started the car, and I wished that I had given her more to work with today.

So ends another session with my therapist…I thought sullenly and let the curtain fall back into place. The dark loneliness of the house quickly wrapped me in its merciless arms, providing the only comfort I could ever wish for.