Page 10 of True Sight
I close my laptop and set it back on the coffee table. My eyes flit around the room knowing that my next answer will open up the can of worms I’ve been trying to keep hidden.
“Hanna did.” I clear my throat. Her eyebrows push even further together.
“Who’sHanna?”
I huff out a breath and decide to tell her. Margaret hasn’t judged me for anything I’ve told her about me so far and I don’t think this would be much different. “She’s my therapist.”
As soon as the word ‘therapist’ comes out of my mouth her whole face falls. Her bottom lip pouts and her eyes go wide with sympathy.
“Mills,” she whines, grabbing my hand with hers. “You started going to therapy?”
“Stop,” I demand, pulling away.
“Stop what? I think it’s great that you’re going. I think everyone needs to go at least for a little bit. When did you start?”
“Just a few weeks ago, I actually had another session with her this past Thursday, it’s not a big thing.” My insides start to warm as I speak. I’m not sure why but openly admittingthat I’m seeing a therapist puts me on edge. I decided to go after months of my friends hounding me for always being so uptight all the time and had planned to keep it to myself. But now that Margaret knows, I’m sure she’ll go and tell Magnolia who will in turn tell Kolbi. Then our entire group will know which means I’ll have more questions to answer.
I hate answering questions.
“And she told you to get a dog?” Margaret’s voice pulls me out of the internal spiral I’m currently trapped in.
“She suggested it, yeah. Something about how it might give me a ‘healthy way of directing my high strung tendencies and need for control.’” I do air quotes when I repeat what I’d been told in my latest session with her. Margaret seems to ponder this and pushes her lips out like a duck.
“I think it’s a great idea,” she declares, slapping the tops of her legs and standing from the couch suddenly. She takes a few steps around the coffee table, heading for the front door.
“You do?” She’s slipping her shoes back on and tossing her keys into her bag. “Where are you going? You just got here.”
“To get you a dog. Let’s go.” It’s not a question, it’s a demand.
“Let’s go? I haven’t decided if I actually want one or not and I have nothing here for one anyway. Doesn’t it need, like, a bowl or something?”
She rolls her eyes at me and stomps back to the couch, grabbing my hand and pulling me up.
“Yes, Conrad, it needs ‘like a bowl or something.’ Lucky for you, they sell those at one of the many pet stores around the city.” She gives me a patronizing look.
“Now, let’s go get me a new niece or nephew. I’m ready tostep into my auntie era.” She gives me a wink and throws my shoes at my feet.
Before I can argue any further, she’s holding my hand as we walk down the hallway of my building, nearly dragging me to my car.
I guess I’m getting a dog.
6
HENRY
It’s been just about two weeks since I arrived in Charleston and things are going swimmingly. The contractors are ahead of schedule on the renovations for the studio and I already have a meeting on the books for tomorrow with Conrad to discuss the ins and outs of what I need him to do for me. My dream is to be able to livestream my classes anywhere in the world and then to build out an online membership vault of workouts for my students who are back home. Before leaving, I’d promised I wouldn’t forget about them once I got here and I’m not going to let them down. Even today I’d gotten up at one in the morning to teach my standard 6:00 a.m. class online. My ass might be dragging already but it’s nothing a good cup of tea can’t fix.
Moving around my flat—or ‘apartment’ as my new neighbors liked to call it—I’m trying to find my laptop charger so I can head out to plan the rest of my classes this week from a café. I need to make all my playlists and map out which exercises and moves I’ll pair with the music. While I’d given myself the time I needed to settle in and adjust to the time change, I’m ready to get back to teaching.Lucky for me, the international moving company dropped all my stuff off yesterday and now my place feels like it is bursting at the seams. Boxes, bags, and furniture I refused to let go of have been dropped aimlessly around my place and now I can’t find a single thing. While I wish more than anything that I could stay home and unpack, I need to plan my classes for the week or it won’t get done and I’ll be flying by the seat of my pants.
As I rummage underneath a box that looks like it has been stomped on by someone, my phone starts to buzz on the kitchen counter. Maneuvering around cardboard and bubble wrap to grab it, I notice my beautiful best friend’s face, frozen in a picture, illuminated on the screen. I swipe my thumb across the screen to answer her FaceTime.
“Hello, pet,” she sings out to me, her English accent bringing me comfort as I haven’t heard one since leaving the motherland.
“Hello,” I call back, setting the phone down on my coffee table and leaving her to stare at my ceiling. I take a few steps away to search the wall where I remember seeing my laptop charger.
“Uhm, hello? Henry? Are you okay, love?” Nearly knocking a stack of boxes over, all she gets in reply is the sound of my cries as I try to catch them before they hit the floor. “Henry?”
“Just a moment,” I grunt, lifting the boxes and setting them back in their rightful place. My eyes drink in the chaos of my living arrangement and I feel my heart tick a beat faster. As I try to remain calm looking at my entire life sitting in half unopened boxes, I spot the classic white charging cord sticking out of the socket on the opposite side of my cramped living room.
