Emerald Eyes

The cold air of my air-conditioned room tingled my skin. I then stood in front of my vanity mirror and brushed my wet hair. I had it waved a few weeks ago again, and even after washing it, they were still strong. I decided on wearing a purple top with jeans. I brushed my hair one more time before taking one last look at myself in my mirror. After getting ready, I went over to myself and took my journal.

The front cover heading was labeled, “Poetry,” in cursive. I grabbed my journal and a pen. Walking down the circular staircase again, my Dad was already downstairs. He was wearing a black flannel shirt with slacks.

“Ready?” he asked me.

“Yeah,” I said. I held onto my journal in the car and stared out the window. I couldn’t think of any small talk, I just watched my Dad as he was steadily driving, focusing on the road.

“It won’t be long,” He finally said.

“I don’t have much clients today,” he said. I nodded my head and continued staring out the window. Finally we drove onto a familiar road. My Dad drove into a familiar building lot.

I could read the “Youth Centre,” in silver capital letters on a rectangular post. My Dad drove into the youth centre and parked in the parking lot. When he finally parked, I opened the car door, and got down. My Dad did the same and closed the car door. I followed him into the large, vast building. The youth centre was mainly for adolescents.

The ground floor was the information and administration floor, the second floor was the counseling and therapy floor, where my Dad was. And the third floor was the medical floor, it was a hospital for teens only. My Dad walked into the building as the automatic doors slid open.

“Good Morning Mr. Peterson,” I heard all the doctors and nurses greet. My Dad politely replied and nodded at every one of them.

“Hello Ava,” I could hear some nurses say.

I shyly smiled and said, “Hi.” The elevator up the second floor was quiet. I eyed my Dad as he stared at the elevators doors. Moments later they opened and we both walked out. That was when she appeared.

“Good Morning Adam,” Iris greeted happily. I hated Iris. I knew it wasn’t right to hate people, but I guess I just really disliked her. Iris was my Dad’s colleague, they were the two main therapists in the youth therapy department. She always addressed my Dad by his first name and myself by Ava Marie. She was a tall, blonde haired woman. I wonder how she moussed her hair.

It was so firm and spiny. Her bright blue eyes revealed her inquisitive personality. She was trying to make my Dad fall for her, because she was a divorcee. I knew Iris had a crush on my Dad, but I was glad he wasn’t interested at all. I didn’t want to my Dad to remarry, we were okay on our own, and I definitely didn’t want Iris as a stepmother.

I think she knew that, I could tell through the many sneers she inflicted on me. I simply ignored her. I didn’t want another mother and I didn’t need one. “Hello Ava Marie,” she said, pretending to care.

“Hi,” I said casually.

She immediately focused all her attention now on my Dad, “Adam, we have a case this morning,” she began.

“What seems to be the problem?” My Dad asked. Just then I heard a loud groan coming from a counseling room.

“Leave me alone!” I heard a voice say. It sounded like a teenage boy. I was right, seconds later a boy who looked about seventeen appeared in the waiting room.

“Taylor… Taylor…!” a counselor followed him outside.

“Taylor, it’s okay,” she said trying to calm his down.

“I don’t need you!” He cried again. Everyone on the therapy was staring at him now.

“I don’t need anyone!” He shouted. Iris turned back to face my Dad.

“That’s the problem,” she said. My Dad suspiciously nodded.

“His name is Taylor Robinson, he is seventeen and his father passed away three months ago.” My Dad was attentively listening. I watched Taylor from where I was standing. He was panting now, with his hands in his dark brown hair. He was dressed in all black.

I wasn’t sure when he going to outburst again. “His mother has tried all trained professionals in Southern California…” Iris continued.

“I’ll take care of this one,” My Dad said.

“What?” Iris asked as if she hadn’t heard what he said.

“Just calm him down and take him to my therapy room, we’ll talk things through,” he said. Iris stared at my Dad.

“Okay,” Iris said.