"Mr. Graywood."
The current in the air was dense. Not because the room was dimly lit, as the only source of light seeped through the hairbreadth opening of the cream dyed blackout curtains. Not because the heater was turned on to its max, where Cherry now could feel the small hairs on her skin sweltering.
No- it's because Brandon and her counselor were having an unannounced staring contest ever since the woman asked Brandon to leave the room. They both seemed to have mastered the skill of a perfunctory smile that like to push you over the edge.
Though the counselor was calmly tapping with the back of her apple pencil against her tablet, Brandon's fingers that had knitted themselves firmly with Cherry's strengthened their hold and she could swear she heard his teeth grinding against each other as he worked his jaw.
"You're still here." The counselor mused, sinking further into the luxurious chestnut chair, as she turned on the message function. Cherry wondered if the doctor turned it on to relax the muscle in her body that has turned taut from Brandon's stubbornness.
"I don't see why I should leave my wife?" Letting go of Cherry's hand, he smoothly slid his arm around her waist, his fingers digging into her side as he pulled her towards him, causing her to yelp and have one side of her cheek mushed against his chest.
"B-Brandon!?" Her skin heated. Tipping her chin up, she tried to send a message with her eyes that shot alarming wide. Begging Brandon to let her go.
Unimpressed by his action, the woman crossed her leg over the knee and twirled the apple pencil between her fingers, humming, "God, I don't know. Maybe because this was meant to be a one-on-one session and not a marriage counseling." She stated.
The smile on Brandon's face never faltered, but it also never reached the bottom of his eyes as his eyes narrowed dauntingly. "Just treat me like I'm air. You wouldn't even notice that I'm here."
"I may be able to ignore your presence, but I doubt your wife shares the same sentiment." The woman nodded her head at Cherry. Scowling his face at the woman's words, Brandon's gaze followed suit only to land on Cherry's frazzled countenance. Her doe eyes danced around and her mouth gaped open and close like a fish fished out from the sea and thrown into an unfamiliar environment. Her brain had a difficult time to understand why she was this close to her husband in front of a stranger. His touch carried crayons dyed in red and it treated Cherry's skin like paper- its mission to fill every blank spot with its color.
After stumbling around with words, she finally voiced in a small voice. "I'll be fine, Brandon, so could you please wait for me outside?"
The harsh edges around Brandon's eyes softened, and he eyed at his flustered wife. Her gaze refusing to meet his and only her fingers clutching his clothes tighter the more she spoke. He didn't want to leave her alone out of worry that this session may trigger some unwanted memories in Cherry, but her plead ignited an internal battle and once her eyes finally swayed to his, growing in size as she pressed, "Please?" He gave up.
He tipped his head back in exasperation. In dismay that the therapist won, and in agonizing pain from being unable to crush Cherry this second in a hug to kiss her senseless.
Reeling back his feelings, he nodded and offered a masked smile to Cherry. Soon. He thought. It will happen soon.
"Alright princess. Call me if anything happens. I will be just right outside the door." He kissed her forehead and stood up from his seat before disappearing out of the room. Hearing the door shut, the counselor harrumphed under her breath, "He's acting as if I will harm you or something."
Cherry tittered, scratching her head as she offered the woman a small apology.
"Now, tell me," The counselor straightened her back and turned off the vibrating sound coming from her chair as her index finger busily swiped around her iPad. Most likely creating a new tab for Cherry, who was now her patient. "How have you been doing after the incident?" The woman's lips that reminded Cherry of the red skin of an apple stretched into a succulent smile. Her upper body leaned forward, arms practically resting on her crossed laps, her sky-blue eyes frosted with clarity, told Cherry that she was going to decipher each word that was going to escape her dry lips.
Cherry swallowed the clomps of nerves in her throat down and spoke as her fingers tangled together on her lap. "Everything has been going fine. I'm still recovering, as you can see, but I should be fine in a few weeks."
The woman hummed. "I'm reading from your files that you were in a pretty big car accident. Did you experience any fear of cars after that?"
Cherry's shoulder speared, her doe eyes blinked obtuse. "No…" she carefully uttered before her eyelashes fluttered more. It never crossed her mind how she was still okay with cars after that day.
Seeing her face going through all stages of concerns the therapist said, "There's nothing strange about it. That just means that your mind doesn't view vehicles as the reason for your accident and therefore doesn't see it as a threat. Did you experience anything else after the accident?"
"Well…" Her eyes wandered between the ground and the woman, questioning herself if she should speak. "I had this dream."
"A dream?"
Cherry nodded. "A dream." She explained what had occurred in her dream from her viewing the totaled car to a younger version of herself jump scaring her. By the end of what felt like to be a tale, her therapist wore a thoughtful expression. Humming as she used the back of her Apple pencil to tap against her lips before nibbling on it.
"This would at least explain why you aren't scared of cars."
"Huh? How so?"
"Normally when a person recalls a memory, they view that memory in first person. But in your case, you viewed it as a third person. This can mean two things." She pointed up her index finger. "One. You dissociated yourself from that memory to protect yourself."
The eyebrows framing Cherry's eyes arched up. "That's possible?"
"It certainly is, and it mostly happens to people who went through a traumatic event to protect themselves from going insane." She added her middle finger to the index finger. "Second. Because of your memory loss, you may not have accepted your past self as a part of you. You view that person as a stranger, so your brain is dissociating and basically creating a mind of its own mind."
"So," The skin between Cherry's brows puckered as she tried to comprehend what her therapist had just said. "I'm not real?"
The woman offered her a serene smile. "You are real. Your mental state just needs to come to terms with everything. I'm sure that you'll be dreaming in first point of view soon enough." The therapist assured.
Though still heavily in thought, Cherry nodded her head. The woman wrote something down before throwing a different question that pulled Cherry back in to reality.
"How is the relationship between you and your husband?"
"Huh?" Cherry raised her head swiftly, turbulence possessing her eyes as red painted across her cheeks.
A grin formed on the woman's face. One of her brows quirking up in amusement as she wrote down, her lips moving in sync with the intricate lines woven on the screen. "Patient has an excellent relationship with their partner." And the woman could almost see the steam exiting from the young lady's ears.
Cherry pressed her cool hands against her cheeks, hoping to mellow down the heat burning her face. "Well, it would make sense that we have such a good relationship when we have been together every day since I've woken up." She huffed, fanning her face, not noticing how her lips unwittingly curved up. "He has been doing so much for me. More than I deserve. It would be really, really weird for me not to… like… him."
The counselor hummed, leaning forward with genuine interest. "Tell me more. How did you spend time with each other after the accident?"
And she did. Maybe it was because it felt like ages since she last spoke to someone else except from Brandon, but she has been wanting to share her feelings and maybe even (brag) complain about her relationship with Brandon. An innocent sparkle in her eyes was present, her hands became more animated and though there was still a hint of blush on her face, her words had some bounce behind them. Enthralled in unloading the feelings she had hidden away in her chest, she didn't notice the expression of the therapist souring the more she spoke.
Outside the room of the therapist, Brandon sat on a bench. The back of his head rested against the pristine wall as his legs stretched leisurely on the floor. He hummed a lofty tune as the side of his feet tapped against each other. A faint smile danced on his lips and the corners of those lips only spread further the more time passed. Occasionally, a chuckle would escape past his lips, spooking the onlookers out and spurring them to put haste in their steps.
Simon, who saw Brandon sitting alone, approached him, his gait languid, but his gaze carried an undying glint in them. He stopped three steps away from Brandon before calling out to him.
"Mr. Graywood. I would like to have a word with you."