~~Ashley's POV~~
"Ahh…" I sighed softly when the piece of meat in my spoon fell back to the plate. Oddly, my hands were tremoring, I felt tensed for some reason. I kept the tremors to myself, trying my hardest not to cut through the placid atmosphere that hovered the dining table, around three of us. Oh yeah, that reminds me. My dad was in town. I tilted to my left to see him wearing a satisfying look, one that portrayed the meal was hitting the right spot. I scoffed silently.
"Ashley…," I heard him call the moment I veered back to my dish like he read my thoughts.
"Your mom told me what happened earlier today." I shifted my stare briefly to her. "I'll call off the contract. I'm sorry for putting you through so much stress," he stated with all sincerity. 'Good grief!'
Miss Antonia, apparently "the best in Chicago" was the most fascinating therapist hired so far. While the others bored me to death by giving me countless diaries for each time I feel a different emotion, even in their first sessions, this one gave me quite the scare. For one, I knew she was crazy, just like me. To top it all up, she advised to seize "unnecessary medications," something I dreaded the most! Her character earlier spiked my interest; I wanted to know more about her. "I want her," I blurted after giving it a terse but careful thought.
"What did you say?" my mom asked with furrowed brows and eyes staring intently at me. Reasonable reaction to my comical response!
"I want her mom," I put bluntly. "Get her to come back," I told my dad.
"Ashley!" My mom called out, washed over by awe. "What are you saying? Do you not remember how badly your episode was earlier today?"
"Mom she was able to tell so much about me in such a short time!"
"Your dad must have told her about you, don't you think?"
"I didn't tell her anything other than the fact that Ashley's been this way for about a month, and she has phobia for blue eyes. Those were the only things I included in the contract application," he chirped.
"You never told her Ashley was on medication?"
"'In not more than ten words, describe the patient.'" He spoke gibberish. "That's what she requested on the contract application."
My mom fell quiet for a while. "But even at that, Ashley's condition earlier today was bad," she still protested.
"I'm fine now, Mom."
"Ashley if you keep doing this, it'd feel like I was overreacting earlier when I related your experience to your dad."
"Dad, I did have an episode. And it took a lot to get me back to normal. But I still want her." My dad was confused. There was a mom worried sick about her child on one end, and a seemingly crazy daughter who doesn't mind on the other end. 'I'm the one wearing the shoes, man!' my inner voice cried when my dad's eyes kept moving side-to-side, taking successional looks at the two of us! "Just get her to come here tomorrow."
"Are you certain about this?" He peered.
"Yes," I responded with an affirmative nod.
"Then it's settled."
"Dearest!" My mom's dismay was clearly painted on her face. Without words, my dad just nodded, signifying to let go.
Few hours later…
I was summoned to the study by my dad. It was bad enough I had to pause my documentary to honor his calls, and yet, the study was empty when I got there. "What the hell?" I muffled.
Just when I turned around to leave, my dad walked in with a pack of orange juice. I hated orange juice for Christ's sake! I rolled my eyeballs, cringed by the sloppy act of kindness.
"Sorry, did I keep you waiting for so long?" Wearing a sheepish smile that spanned from one ear to the other, he approached me. "Sit down. Let's have a drink."
"Where's mom?"
"Your mom has retired to bed. I wanted this to be our alone time." 'Figures,' I mused. He was too busy with all other important issues in his life to take note of my likes and dislikes.
"You should have told Mom you were going to do this." My mom would've made his facade flawless.
"Why? You think I'm not fatherly enough?" Radiating with smiles, he poured the juice into our cups.
"I detest orange juice." My blunt statement earned me a closer look at my unhappy expression. I wasn't the least moved.
"I… I… I thought you loved oranges," he tried to defend stutteringly, clearly flustered.
"I hate carrots but love carrot juice. I love oranges but hate orange juice."
"You… you what?" 'That's bizarre!' his gape told.
"Why did you call me out? I was busy." I finally drew out a seat and helped myself.
"Oh… what would you like then? Let me get it."
'Stop trying so hard.' "Just sit down already. I was busy."
"Yeah… sure…" He pushed the tray aside, clearing the barrier between our faces. "How've you been?" he started. 'The hell. Don't tell me you called me out this late just to ask of my well-being.'
"You know exactly how I've been. Isn't that why you're spending your time trying to get me better, rather than on me." My tone betrayed my thoughts on how ridiculous he was being then.
"I'm sorry I haven't been giving you enough attention." Placing his forearms on the table, he tried to touch me but I withdrew myself. 'Seriously?' He was leaving for New York City early next morning and here he was, on about something irrelevant.
"Don't you think you need rest for your flight tomorrow morning?" I voiced thoughtlessly. "You'd do great if you used this time to rest rather than try this hard." I was done giving a damn about his emotions. "Cut it out, Dad."
"Ashley…" "I appreciate your effort in getting me the therapists," I cut him off. "I have a strong feeling your Miss Antonia will make a difference." 'Appreciate,' my ass. My voice was dripping with sarcasm following each word.
He heaved a sigh. "Fine. I'm sorry for interrupting your sleep." 'The hell!'
"I wasn't sleeping. I said I was "busy." Weren't you listening?" My visage portrayed peak annoyance at the time. I was this close to snapping. Everyone knows Ashley seldom falls asleep. And besides, I wasn't holding water in my mouth when I said I was busy the first time. Good riddance!
"Oh… yeah. Sorry about that. I'll leave you now."
I got up and walked out sharply.
The next morning…
Having worn my eyes out through the night unable to catch any sleep, I got off my reading table, and headed straight to the bathroom after trashing the alarm clock. As usual, I washed up and applied concealer around my eyes. For a change, I woke up with expectations for the day, subconsciously looking forward to Miss Antonia's visit.
"Ouch…," I groaned loudly, hitting my pinky toe against a footstool sitting next to my dressing mirror.
'Knock knock' I heard a knock that cheesed me off completely. What wrong timing for my mom to show up, I thought. Sluggishly, I went to get the door.
I scoffed on seeing the same lady who dared to disturb me the first time. I looked her up and down.
"Good morning ma'am," she greeted innocently, smiling like it was indeed a beautiful morning.
"Do your eyes hurt? Or has your sense of sight gone missing?" I asked scornfully.
"Pa… pardon?"
I stepped out of the room and shut the door. She was taken aback by my sudden actions. "Can you not read?" I queried again, calling her attention to the inscription on the plaque attached to my door.
"Do not disturb,'" she read.
"So why do you keep showing your ugly face before me?"
"I'm sorry. I just came to replace your hot towel," she begged, bowing her face. Truthfully, mine was used up.
"Emmerson!" my mom called out.
"Didn't I tell you I would bring the hot towel to her?!" she scolded.
"I'm sorry ma'am. It's just that you were busy so I…,"
"Get lost!" she told off at once and got her sprinting in less than a millisecond. I walked back into my room.
"Miss Antonia is in the study," she informed, going to the bathroom to place the towel neatly.
"Already?" I was astounded at her punctuality for real. She nodded in response.
I hesitated, bearing another question in mind as I knew the answer. "And dad?" I inquired anyway.
"He's left for New York already." I scoffed.
"What was I expecting?" I muttered sotto voce.
"Pardon?"
"Never mind."
"She insists to have breakfast together. I wonder what she's up to this time." She muttered the latter part. "Anyway, she's waiting for you. Breakfast is almost ready."
"Sure." For the first time in ages, nothing about my drugs was mentioned; her presence must really pull some weight.
I changed into something else and went to meet my guest. We had breakfast together and proceeded to the balcony upstairs for our session. Given its aeration, my mom thought it was best to use it.
"You loves scrambled eggs?" she inquired shortly after we got comfortable.
"For breakfast."
"I see you have a picky taste."
"A very picky taste," I reemphasized.
"Do you like music?" she asked out of the blue.
"I literally have palpitations more than 95% of my time," I replied with sarcasm coating my tone.
"Music disturbs you, huh?"
"Obviously!"
"Okay let me rephrase. Did you like music?"
"Yes, I did." This sounded more like an average conversation than a "session." For starters, we were sitting beside each other on the couch, and she was really friendly. As expected of our unpredictable "best in Chicago."
"There's a song that'd help calm you down. It's worked for most of my clients."
"Even the slowest of songs increase my blood pressure."
"This one isn't just slow. It's rarely known and only recommended by the best of the best. You could even fall asleep without knowing." The last statement caught me off guard in that I didn't know when a loud scoff escaped my lips.
"Help me fall asleep?" She then took out a headphone from the bag beside her and gave it to me.
"The music's already in it. Just hit the play button," she instructed, showing it to me.
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Is this your first time seeing a headphone?" she returned wittily. "Put it on."
'Is she trying to trigger another episode? Am I going to go crazy the moment I do as I'm told? What stunt is she trying to pull this time?' I was full of doubts. It would be more absurd if the opposite was the case.
She took the initiative to put the headband over my head, fitting the mushy pads against my ears. The delightful feeling that came with that put me at ease. I relaxed a bit. The rhythm then went off. Soonest, I experienced a feeling I can't describe best with words. It was a slow song, yeah, but something felt different. Its carefully arranged harmonies, rhythms, and bass lines, like a fairy tale, with time, slowed down my heartbeat. It had layers of tranquil sounds that blended to create a serene and peaceful experience for my soul. The tempo was slow, and the music was characterized by its lack of sudden or jarring elements or voices, contributing to its ability to soothe and relax. I can't recall when last I felt this calm in the morning.
She inclined my back to rest on the couch. My eyelids were shut involuntarily. What I felt at that moment was priceless.
"Ahhh…," a sigh escaped my lips when the heavenly rhythm stopped.
"I need you to be awake." She wasn't lying. I for one felt that was the closest to falling asleep I'd been in days.
"There are others in it. Just press the right buttons to get them rolling. This particular one is for whenever you want to sleep. You could put it in repeat."
"What's the title?"
"Not telling. It's my little secret."
"I could search it out myself, you know?"
"You're free to try."
"Tch…" with folded arms, I relaxed against the backrest. She also assumed the same pose.
"What kind of person was Makayla?" I tilted my head briskly to her. 'Where's that coming from?' my spontaneous scowl asked.
"Excuse you?"
"Ahh… incase you're wondering, I pried a little earlier. Your mom told me about her." She tilted to me. And that was when I came to appreciate her winter grey eyes. "Although it was a little tasking to get her to open to me," she chuckled. "I'm not a psychologist for nothing."
"No one's ever listened to me talk about Makayla."
"Isn't that because they're all afraid of digging up painful memories?" She was damn right! "I could listen to you ramble all day about her, I don't mind."
"Did you get these headphones specially for me also?" I just had to ask. They felt nothing like I've ever used.
"You could tell? It's custom made actually," she disclosed.
"Wow…" I muttered instinctively. The more I came to know her, the more fascinated and intrigued I was. For one who hated people, I was smitten. "Your dad spent quite a fortune to get me here."
"Like I said, if you need someone to share Makayla's memories with, let me be that someone." Tilting her head once more, she flashed me the most beautiful smile I'd seen in a while.