I stared at the back of his head with my brows in the air.
Dr. Kippler scratched along his jawline in deep thought. “With that being said, what is a better term you would replace love with as an emotion?”
Ollie let out a small laugh. “You tell me.”
The room went quiet again as Dr. Kippler looked around the room. “What about you, Jett? Which emotional need is most important to you?”
My head cocked in Dr. Kippler’s direction now that the heat was back on me.
“Variety,” I said sharply, not having to think at all about my answer.
“Care to explain?”
“Nope.”
Dr. Kippler nodded at my honesty and brought his attention back to the class. “For those of you who are unfamiliar with variety, it’s the motivation to seek change or a challenge outside of a normal routine. Unless Masters here would like to alter the pyramid once again?” he asked, looking to Ollie with a challenging grin. Chuckles spread throughout the class and Ollie shook his head before Dr. Kippler continued, “Very well. Your responses to my question could clarify the very reason why you’re here in the first place.” Kippler brought his hands together as he became proud of himself with his revelation.
After my last class of the day, I entered the office of Dr. Conway. The room was the same size as my dorm, and the sun cast enough light through the large window to brighten up the space. A leather couch rested against the wall, facing a desk with papers scattered across, and posters of positive quotes filled her pale blue walls.
Dr. Conway turned to face me from the chair with an authentic smile. “Mia, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” She stood with an extended hand. “Please take a seat.”
As soon as she opened her mouth, I knew Dr. Conway was an American by her Boston accent. Her thick black hair framed her face and dropped just below her shoulders. “How was your trip here?”
“Long.” My body sank into the leather as my eyes wandered around the room until they fell onto a poster of a kitten with the quote,“Today I will not stress over things I can’tcontrol.”
What in the hell did a kitten have to be stressed about?
To my right sat a bookshelf filled with novels I’d never heard of, and a collection of self-help books.
“Yeah, I don’t miss that flight,” Dr. Conway said and let out a sigh.
“Boston?”
“Born and raised. I came out to the UK during a sabbatical. Finding the love of my life here wasn’t planned, but hey …”—she threw her palms in the air—”shit happens.”
I spaced out after she said sabbatical, but continued to nod in interest. I had mastered the skill of pretending.
“So, tell me, why do you think you’re here?” she asked.
“I’m here because my dad is in denial. The image of his only daughter graduating college and living out a normal life is the only reason why he refused to send me off to a mental institution.”
“Do you belong in a mental institution?”
“I don’t belong, period.”
Dr. Conway tapped my file with her long fake nails as she crossed her legs. “I read your file, Mia. You suffer from Alexithymia and Emotional Detachment Disorder. You have already tried to commit suicide twice of which I’m aware, drove your stepmother’s car through a garage, lit your principal’s car on fire, and … this one’s my favorite … showed up to your counselor’s house dressed in a trench coat and heels portraying a hired prostitute?” She let out a small chuckle as she uncrossed her legs and rested her elbows over her knees. “I hope his wife was forgiving.”
I shrugged, and the mood in the small room shifted along with her facial expression.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you think you were unsuccessful with the suicide attempts?”
My head dipped back at her forwardness. “I would have been successful if my dad hadn’t found me.”
“Something tells me a part of you wanted your father to find you.”
She was wrong. He was supposed to have been at work until five o’clock both days. “You’re way off.”
“No, I think I’m getting somewhere … Let me ask you something else. When was the last time you cried?”
