Page 13 of Saber Stalked


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“But, Rand!”

“Nope. Nada. Not going to happen. See previous statement about STIs and pregnancy.”

“Geez, Rand. You’re going to make me a high school outcast! I’m never going to get a date! The mean girls will rake me over the coals, and I’ll have to spend the rest of my time hiding out in the library!” She throws up her hands and stomps back to her room, slamming the door in her wake.

Teenage drama. Zero stars. Would not recommend.

Chapter 7

“I am not a cat lady.”

-Carolina

The grandfather clock ticks loudly. Every few minutes, a whirring sound comes from the laptop on the desk. And Dr. Keres scratches notes on her legal pad.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Whirrrrrr.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Her office has that traditional therapist feel to it. Neutral colors. Calming plants. A comfortable couch, where she expects patients to lay down and express their deepest desires and fears. Two overstuffed club chairs. And the chaise with wooden arms where the doctor lounges.

Yes. She relaxes in a chaise lounge during our appointments. She does take off her shoes so she doesn’t stain the cream upholstered fabric. My mind wanders as I think of everything she could be writing down:stubborn, anxiety-ridden, can’t get laid.

“Let’s talk about that, shall we?”

I’m sitting in one of the club chairs. Unlike Dr. Keres, I don’t want to get too comfortable for these sessions. It wasn’t my choice to come here in the first place, but here we are.

“Talk about what?”

“Your reunion,” she prods.

I suck in a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter because I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to,” I exhale. “Weren’t you the one who told me to stop saying yes to things I didn’t want to do?”

She nods slowly. “I did. But I also gave you homework.”

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Homework. Right.

“You’ll never get better if you keep hiding away from the world.”

“I’m not hiding.”

Dr. Keres tilts her head at me. “Aren’t you, though?”

I tilt my head right back at her. “How do you figure?”

She puts her notepad on a side table, swings her feet around until she’s sitting on the side of the chaise, facing me. “You go to work. You come home from work. The only beings you see regularly are your three co-workers and your cat.”

“And my neighbor.”

“Right, your neighbor who you don’t talk to unless your cat runs into her backyard.”

“So?”