Status: Updates every four days.
We Way? Three Way!
Psychologists are Mental
“Natalie and Jill, will you come with me and Cupcake pleasy please?” Becca asked, two days later.
“Can’t. Guitar lesson.” Jill said.
“Meh…”
“Mikey, can I come with her?” I asked, trying to sound sweet…highly doubt I pulled it off…
“Yeah, sure. Bring the unicorn, in the car, Jill, you stay here with Mommy.” While Becca went to go grab Cupcake, I shoved my notebook and a bunch of strips of paper into my shoulder bag.
“Becca, you seem awfully happy about this…” Ray said as he shut the door.
“Not really, but it’s Cupcake’s half birthday and he’s not being moody today.”
“Alright then. To the nice people we go.”
The front room was so damn colorful. Even Becca thought it was a bit too much. She found a book on zombies, which unfortunately had a severe lack of blood, and I took out a pencil. (I hate pens with a burning passion.) Soon enough I’d spewed over fifty words onto a blank page.
Nightingale.
Wind.
Rock.
Force.
Swallow.
Raven.
Black.
Deep.
Contain.
Intertwine.
Hatred.
Vain.
White.
Enchanted.
Golden.
Reach.
Fail.
Death.
To name a few. As my brain finally ran out of steam, a lady wearing over-ironed pants and an obnoxiously bright sweater called Becca’s name.
“Bye Ray.” I said.
“Don’t let her break the nice lady’s things. Scream ‘honeydew’ if you need me.”
“Got it.” Becca, Cupcake and I followed the lady, who was apparently confused before our session even began.
”So, Rebecca, how are you doing today?”
“Can you call Becca Becca please?”
“...Sorry?”
“Becca’s Becca, not RE-becca. Not now, anyway.”
“Oh…well, Becca, my name is Mrs. Marken. And what’s your name?” She looked at me.
“That’s Natalie. She’s a friend of mine. But she doesn’t say much…”
“Alright then. Let’s get started. Would you like to tell me a little bit about yourself?” “Hmm…well, my name’s Becca, I grew up in an orphanage with Natalie and our other friend Jillian. I like music and shiny things. I don’t like shoes, they stifle my creativity. I like art and writing and cheese and-“ I put my hand up to stop her before she got carried away and started saying things the lady didn’t want to hear.
“Okay…and what about that stuffed animal you’re holding?” Cupcake had been sitting on her lap. I saw her anger meter rise up quite a bit, but she did a wonderful job of keeping her temper.
“This is Cupcake. He’s my pet unicorn, and he’s very friendly. Today, at least. He says he likes your earrings.”
“Oh…does he now? Well, in reality, toys don’t exactly talk…And you’re at the age where you’re becoming an adult, and most young girls of your age have outgrown that sort of thing by now,”
Meh. Everything she said after that was very repetitive. What she was saying wasn’t very interesting, and was clearly not putting Becca in a good mood. Becca argued, politely, of course, and Marken’s attempts to rationalize with her were a total fail. If you’re gonna argue with Becca, you better know what you’re getting yourself into. After some time, she gave up, and there was silence.
I suddenly had an idea for a poem, so I took out my notebook to write it down before I forgot.
“What’ve you got there, Natalie?”
“A notebook…”
“Oh, may I see it?”
“Well, I’d really rather-“
Impolitely, she took it from me. I knew this was not going to end well. She flipped through the pages, silently.
“Umm…I think Natalie might want her notebook back now…” Becca politely interjected. The lady didn’t respond.
I saw her pause at the rough sketch I’d drawn of girl sitting on a park bench, crying into her hands and bleeding from slightly below her elbow. And again at several poems containing quite a bit of blood, angels, death, murder, tears, and death. And again at the words I’d written a few minutes ago as we were waiting. Then she closed it, looked at the black and red cover with something that resembled disgust, and looked at me.
“Actually, Rebecca, could you go back to your father for a bit? Natalie and I just need a minute…”
“No we don’t. Anything you say in front of me can be said in front of her.” The lady was surprised. But I’m also not one to screw with.
“Very well, then. Sit.”
We already are, smart one…
“Can’t. Guitar lesson.” Jill said.
“Meh…”
“Mikey, can I come with her?” I asked, trying to sound sweet…highly doubt I pulled it off…
“Yeah, sure. Bring the unicorn, in the car, Jill, you stay here with Mommy.” While Becca went to go grab Cupcake, I shoved my notebook and a bunch of strips of paper into my shoulder bag.
“Becca, you seem awfully happy about this…” Ray said as he shut the door.
“Not really, but it’s Cupcake’s half birthday and he’s not being moody today.”
“Alright then. To the nice people we go.”
The front room was so damn colorful. Even Becca thought it was a bit too much. She found a book on zombies, which unfortunately had a severe lack of blood, and I took out a pencil. (I hate pens with a burning passion.) Soon enough I’d spewed over fifty words onto a blank page.
Nightingale.
Wind.
Rock.
Force.
Swallow.
Raven.
Black.
Deep.
Contain.
Intertwine.
Hatred.
Vain.
White.
Enchanted.
Golden.
Reach.
Fail.
Death.
To name a few. As my brain finally ran out of steam, a lady wearing over-ironed pants and an obnoxiously bright sweater called Becca’s name.
“Bye Ray.” I said.
“Don’t let her break the nice lady’s things. Scream ‘honeydew’ if you need me.”
“Got it.” Becca, Cupcake and I followed the lady, who was apparently confused before our session even began.
”So, Rebecca, how are you doing today?”
“Can you call Becca Becca please?”
“...Sorry?”
“Becca’s Becca, not RE-becca. Not now, anyway.”
“Oh…well, Becca, my name is Mrs. Marken. And what’s your name?” She looked at me.
“That’s Natalie. She’s a friend of mine. But she doesn’t say much…”
“Alright then. Let’s get started. Would you like to tell me a little bit about yourself?” “Hmm…well, my name’s Becca, I grew up in an orphanage with Natalie and our other friend Jillian. I like music and shiny things. I don’t like shoes, they stifle my creativity. I like art and writing and cheese and-“ I put my hand up to stop her before she got carried away and started saying things the lady didn’t want to hear.
“Okay…and what about that stuffed animal you’re holding?” Cupcake had been sitting on her lap. I saw her anger meter rise up quite a bit, but she did a wonderful job of keeping her temper.
“This is Cupcake. He’s my pet unicorn, and he’s very friendly. Today, at least. He says he likes your earrings.”
“Oh…does he now? Well, in reality, toys don’t exactly talk…And you’re at the age where you’re becoming an adult, and most young girls of your age have outgrown that sort of thing by now,”
Meh. Everything she said after that was very repetitive. What she was saying wasn’t very interesting, and was clearly not putting Becca in a good mood. Becca argued, politely, of course, and Marken’s attempts to rationalize with her were a total fail. If you’re gonna argue with Becca, you better know what you’re getting yourself into. After some time, she gave up, and there was silence.
I suddenly had an idea for a poem, so I took out my notebook to write it down before I forgot.
“What’ve you got there, Natalie?”
“A notebook…”
“Oh, may I see it?”
“Well, I’d really rather-“
Impolitely, she took it from me. I knew this was not going to end well. She flipped through the pages, silently.
“Umm…I think Natalie might want her notebook back now…” Becca politely interjected. The lady didn’t respond.
I saw her pause at the rough sketch I’d drawn of girl sitting on a park bench, crying into her hands and bleeding from slightly below her elbow. And again at several poems containing quite a bit of blood, angels, death, murder, tears, and death. And again at the words I’d written a few minutes ago as we were waiting. Then she closed it, looked at the black and red cover with something that resembled disgust, and looked at me.
“Actually, Rebecca, could you go back to your father for a bit? Natalie and I just need a minute…”
“No we don’t. Anything you say in front of me can be said in front of her.” The lady was surprised. But I’m also not one to screw with.
“Very well, then. Sit.”
We already are, smart one…