'Ding!' With hopes bursting through the roof, Mrs. Sinclair – Ashley's mom – took out the freshly baked cookies from the oven when the timer went off.
Understandably, that was the sixth therapist in that month given Ashley's annoyance. But she and her spouse didn't mind as long as it's assured Ashley would be restored to her normal self. She for one desperately wanted her once bright and loving child back. Ashley's parents weren't really wealthy but had enough to get them comfortable lives at the very least. And currently, more than fifty percent of their resources were pumped into Ashley's well-being; hiring those therapists cost a fortune. Although disappointed by the outcome every time, they never gave up searching for hope. Her husband combed through the city of Chicago thoroughly. For the record, Miss Antonia – so-called "best in Chicago" – was going to be their last glimmer of hope in view of the feats she's managed to pull off so far, and how much they had to sacrifice to get her here.
Elle imagined a beautiful scene of calmness and tranquility – what Ashley seldom experienced – while arranging the cookies neatly on the flat ceramic plate. She placed side-by-side to it Ashley's favorite homemade fruit drink prepared by her – fresh carrot juice – and two highball glasses to go with it on a mini-sized tray. 'The best in Chicago should be given the best treatment,' she thought. "All set," she muttered to herself , making way to the study.
"Get… away… from… me!!!!" she heard Ashley's shriek followed by the sound of crashing objects as she approached the study. Her mind was instantly taken over. She released her grip, shattering everything in it on the tiled floor. Faster than a comet's tail, she swung the door open. Her face was immediately washed over by a befuddled expression seeing her baby curl in a fetal position on the floor next to her chair while keeping her ears tightly closed. She looked like a puppy left in the rain to die noticing her violent shivers even from where she stood. ''Beautiful scene of calmness and tranquility' my foot.'
She dashed in speedily to her rescue. Preoccupied with only getting her daughter to safety, she finally gained cognizance of an extra presence when Ashley was wrapped safely in her arms. She had her sit on the chair instead; Ashley clung to her like a toddler given the scare. The so-called "best in Chicago" stood still at one spot with folded arms while looking down on both of them from an elevated vantage because of her heels. Elle scoffed in disbelief.
"What do you think you're doing?!" she barked moon-eyed.
"I heard from Mr. Sinclair she had a phobia for blue eyes," she replied, looking rather calm for one responsible for the ruckus. Her statement drew Elle's attention to her eye color. "They were contacts. I removed them," she clarified on seeing her creased brows; her eyes looked nothing like blue.
"You were asked to help her and not worsen her case!" Elle's eyes glimmered with rage as she spoke.
"That's exactly what I'm doing." Elle scoffed loudly this time. She couldn't believe her eyes and ears. Holding Ashley still was pretty difficult and yet she had the guts to defend herself, and with a smug expression at that.
"Miss Antonia!" she paused. "Is this a joke or something?"
"I am a psychologist, and not just a therapist, ma'am. Knowing just how much her situation has worsened is also my job. I need to know for my help to be effective," she answered professionally. "I also needed to know how badly her phobia has deteriorated. And mind you, she doesn't just have a phobia for blue eyes but a panic disorder," she added with no hint of remorse.
"Is this your definition of help?"
"That would be all for today," she said with a bow causing her eyelids to move farther apart from each other. The nerve! After leaving such a bad aftertaste, she still had the guts to call that a session. Elle felt like charging and tearing her to shreds at that moment but as insignificant as her jaw muscles were, they felt heavy to move; she was rendered speechless.
"Ahhh…one more thing," she said suddenly and paused just before the aisle. She then turned around. "If you really love your child, quit the unnecessary medications," she uttered succinctly before leaving the room.
'What a witch!'
A few hours later …
"Dearest you need to do something about that lady. She may end up driving our child even more insane!"
"I'll talk to her and get back to you."
"Ma'am lunch is served," Emerson walked in to inform.
"I'll call you back later." Elle hung up.
Apparently, she'd managed to calm Ashley's horses and was on the phone with her husband who called to inquire about Miss Antonia's visit. Of course, she didn't leave out any phrase, sentence, or word, to fully express her dissatisfaction with her cheeky behavior. Emerson was one of their part-time servants who came to help around the house in the mornings and got off work in the evenings. Taking Ashley's general hatred and irritation for people in her personal space, they could not hire full-time workers. These ones even had to work under the condition that Ashley's room was out of bounds.
"Should I get the young madam?" she asked innocently assuming a civil pose.
"As if," Elle muttered. "I'll get her myself." Emerson was new and still trying to adjust so she saved her the sermon for later. "Set the table."
She was about taking the stairs when she heard the doorbell ring. Visits were literally banned, and she wasn't expecting any deliveries. So who could that be? The stairway was only few paces away from getting her answer so she went to get the door.
"Carson!" she hailed brightly seeing the neighbor who lived next door. Visits were banned, yes, but there were exceptions.
"Good day Mrs. Sinclair." "A good day to you too." They exchanged pleasantries with smiles.
"I just got off work. Is Ashley in?"
"Ashley?"
"She invited me over." What's he saying? The Ashley who's remained curled up in her bedroom, and only managed to regain composure? Or was there suddenly another Ashley under her roof? Her visage didn't fail to portray her confusion subconsciously. "Ummm… is there a problem?" he asked, noticing her stare full of questions.
"Ashley's indisposed at the moment. You sure she called you?"
"Yes!" He reaffirmed with conviction. He took out his phone presumably to show her his call log.
"Carson?" she heard Ashley's voice behind her and instinctively turned around. "Ashley! Are you okay?" she queried, swelling with concern as she rushed to her.
"Come on in," she beckoned her guest.
"Don't you think you need to rest? You just had an episode." she almost whispered the last part.
"Come off it, Mom. You know I'm light years away from catching any sleep after all. I've just been rolling on my bed for hours."
"But still…"
"Mom please," she said rather meekly, with both hands on her shoulders. "Carson's no stranger. Let him in." What a child! Shutting all avenues for any further chats she went back upstairs.
"Come on in," redirecting her attention to Carson, she called. She had no choice but to bend to her wishes after all.