Page 13 of Breakaway Hearts

Some things change you

The school therapist shuts the door gently, but I freeze as if he slammed it, locking us in.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Finch, I’m Dr. Kapoor…” He pulls my attention back to him, where he sits behind a large mahogany desk that must have been built inside the room, or before the building was done, because there is no way it fit through the doorway.

“Nice to meet you too,” I say, with a quick glance between us, then back to the door before placing my palms flat on my lap to stop the fidgeting.

“I promise to make this as painless as possible.”

“I’m sure you will,” I assure him with a sigh I didn’t mean to let out. Normally I would be more pleasant, more apologetic, but the closed door cuts off the air circulation, and I am sweating in the giant cardigan I put on like armor this morning.

I squirm and pull it tighter around me when he stands and walks around the desk. It’s an Olympic feat, keeping my smile in place, but I feel it dropping and want to scream. Only Dr. Kapoor doesn’t corner me. He walks past me, opens the door to his office, and secures it with a rubber wedge.

“Nice to get some air in here,” he says as if he also found it stifling, which he might in his tweed blazer, but I’m pretty sure it’s not protocol. “What brings you in today?”

I plan to tell him I came to humor my best friend, but I’m doing fine, thank you very much. Only that clearly isn’t true. And he knows that, because he opened the door.

Instead, I tell him absolutely everything. My childhood, meeting Jason, losing my dad, the night that turned me into this shell of the girl I once was, how Jason was worried, and I hate seeing him like that, so here I am…only I do it in the span of three minutes. Like I’m recounting the series finale of one of those far-fetched shows you love to hate, or describing a car crash I drove by.

When I’m done, before he can ask any follow-up questions, I ask about a flyer on his wall, for Indian takeout. I shut down and inch closer to the door every time he tries to press, so he humors me with the best places to eat near campus.

I watch the clock count down, spurring him on with a well-timed, “What about donuts?” or Italian, or whatever will keep him talking.

I almost let myself relax when there are only ten minutes left and I have my next fifteen questions lined up, but Dr. Kapoor takes advantage of my distraction and stops naming ice cream shops to ask, “How are you coping after what happened to you?”

I sigh, but resist the urge to roll my eyes. I knew it was too good to be true.

“I moved in with my best friend last January, so dorms are no longer an issue. Neither of us really invite people over, and if ever I’m forced to go out, he usually comes with me.”

“What if you ever feel⁠—”

“Jason’s there, so I don’t.”

“But if he wasn’t,” he presses.

“I ask myself what’s the worst this person can do to me, and when compared to being butchered alive, most things aren’t as bad. And if it happens, I won’t have long to dwell on it.”

“Do you often use this kind of dark humor to mask your emotions?” he asks calmly.

“It’s better than the alternative.”

“Which is…”

I sigh again. I get why I should be here, but I’m fine. I’m managing.

“After it happened, I had a bit of a who the fuck cares anymore attitude, where I made a lot of bad decisions.”

He looks up from his pad and I wish it was pity in his eyes, because then I could roll mine and dismiss him, but he looks pained, like he gets it, and I hate him a little for that.

“What made you stop?” he surprises me by not asking what those bad decisions were.

“People were worried about me. I hated myself. And the people who hurt me were going off to Europe and preparing to start college without a care in the world. Didn’t seem fair.”

“You chose to reclaim your life?”

That’s a much nicer way of saying it.

“I chose to become someone who isn’t afraid of them. Who eats guys like that for breakfast and sends them to jail instead of Ivy Leagues. I considered the whole Promising Young Woman route, but I’ve never been a rule-breaker.”