Glitter In The Blood As It Hits The Ground

“You sure you can’t come to the practice?” Maria whined as we left Belleville High on Wednesday afternoon.

I nodded, “Yeah I’m sure. But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” She flashed me a wide grin and hugged me goodbye before leaving me as she went to meet up with the guys to go to the Way brothers’ house for band practice.

While they were having fun I had to go back to Greenvale for my weekly session with Dr. Facinelli.

I made my way to the front of the school where I saw Murray waiting for me with my father’s midnight blue BMW. He greeted me with a nod and took my backpack and placed it in the trunk before opening the back door for me, being the ever serious butler.

I sat back in the cream leather as the family butler got into the driver’s seat and began the hour long drive to my old town. I dug my I-pod out of my back and placed the ear buds in their place and relaxed, letting the voice of Billy Joe Armstrong soothe me.

Before I knew it we were passing the sign declaring, “Welcome to Greenvale.”
Suddenly I felt a strange longing, sort of like homesickness.

Guess I miss this place after all.

We passed through the small town and it saddened me how little I remembered of it. I had spent sixteen years of my life living in this town and yet so much of it still seemed alien to me.

Finally we arrived at my therapist’s office located in an old building on the third floor, above a book shop and dentist’s office.

I climbed out of the family car and waved goodbye to Murray before beginning my ascent to an hour of facing the reality that I may never remember most of my life.

“Good afternoon Emma,” The handsome young Dr. Facinelli greeted me at the entrance to his office. “How are you this week?”

I shrugged, “Fine I guess, you?”

He smiled, his green-blue eyes sparkling, “I’m good too, thank you for asking.”

I just nodded and pushed past him to enter the office where I sat in my favourite chair in the room, the bright blue beanbag that rested against the far wall, beside the window. My therapist just followed me into the room and sat in the leather armchair across from the beanbag.

“So, how was your week?” He asked the same question he did every week.

I shrugged, “It was okay.”

He smiled and shook his head, his slightly shaggy brown hair flying everywhere. “You say that every week Emma.”

“Well every week is okay.” I retorted tiredly letting my head drop down. I was tired and wasn’t in the mood for all these pointless questions.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. I always wondered why he tried so hard to figure me out; it obviously caused him a lot of stress.

“Well did anything of significance happen this week?”

I nodded, “Well, I had that dream again. . . And I made some friends.”

Even a professional psychologist like him couldn’t hide his shock when I told him that. His eyes widened with shock and it took a minute before he could speak again.

“You made friends?”

I nodded, looking down at my hands and began picking at the loose skin around the thumb on my right hand.

“I see.” I could hear the scratching of a pen on paper as he wrote down this new titbit of information. “And what are they like?”

I shrugged, still not making any eye contact with him. “They’re cool I guess. Gerard’s real nice.”

“And Gerard is?”

“Oh, I met him in a music store. He’s the guy who introduced me to the rest of my new friends.” I informed him, finally looking up and meeting his pretty green blue eyes.

Dr. Facinelli was a young psychologist and was incredibly handsome. He had pretty brown hair that flicked into his eyes, sparkling green eyes with specks of blue in them and amazing tanned skin. Most girls would fall head over heels for him but I wasn’t one of them. To me he was a cool therapist but I wasn’t attracted to him. I was more into the dark haired rocker.

Like Gerard maybe?

I shook my head, ridding it of that thought. I barely even knew him.

“Emma are you okay?” Dr. Facinelli’s voice reminded me of where I was.

I forced a smile, “Uh yeah I’m fine.”

For the next hour we talked about the dream I had again and about everyday life. Before I knew it, it was time to go home.

“We’ve made a lot of progress this week Emma,” My therapist informed me, a smiled on his handsome features. “I think your memories may come back quicker than we anticipated.”

I grinned, “Really?”

He nodded, “You’re getting better quicker than I expected.”

“Cool.”

I waved goodbye and left the room and entered the small waiting room that was on the way out.
I spotted Karen O’ Shaugnessy, Dr. Facinelli’s secretary sitting behind the little desk in the corner of the room.

“Hey Karen,” I smiled at the young blonde girl.

She looked up, her bright blue eyes slightly obscured by the thick rimmed glasses she always wore, and smiled at me, “Hello Emma. How’re you?”

I shrugged, “Fine, you?”

She nodded, “The same. You need me to make another appointment for next week?”

“Yes please.”

She turned back to the bright blue computer screen and began typing furiously and within minutes she had a new white card with next week’s appointment time on it. The same time as every other week.

“Thanks Karen. See you next week.”

I began walking out and I was almost at the door when I hear her whisper to herself.

“Maybe you will Emma or maybe you’ll be gone by next week.”
She laughed to herself.

I was tempted to turn and ask her what she had meant by that but was too scared. So instead I ran down the stairs out to the road where Murray was waiting for me.