Chapter 62 - [62] First month of work (part 1)

It had been a month since I started working as a mental health counselor. I was getting the hang of it, though some days were harder than others. My sessions with Emma were becoming more frequent, and she was opening up, little by little. For the most part, we played board games, which seemed to make her more comfortable. The talking came afterward—slow, cautious, but it was progress.Today was no different. We sat on the floor of my small office, a Snakes and Ladders board spread out between us. Emma, who was only about eight or nine, had this quiet determination about her whenever we played. It was the kind of focus you only saw in kids trying to distract themselves from something heavier. Her small hands moved her piece up the ladder, her lips pressed in concentration."You're gonna beat me again, aren't you?" I said, trying to sound casual.Emma shrugged, her eyes still locked on the board. "Maybe. You could still win, though."I smiled, rolling the dice. I landed on a snake, sliding down a row with a dramatic groan. "Guess not."For a second, I thought she might laugh, but she just gave a small smile and moved her piece again, closer to the finish. There was something different about her today—she was quieter than usual, more withdrawn. I watched her as she moved her piece, wondering if I should say something or let her come to it on her own.As we continued playing, Emma's fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sweater, twisting and untwisting the fabric in her lap. She rolled the dice again, but this time her movements were slower, almost hesitant. Finally, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with something heavier than a simple game could distract her from."Do you... do you remember your mom?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.The question caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn't know how to respond. But I nodded, giving her a soft smile. "Yeah. I do. I think about her a lot, actually."Emma looked back down at the board, her fingers still playing with the fabric of her sweater. "I think about my mom all the time. Like, all the time."I could hear the tremble in her voice, the weight of what she was carrying. I leaned forward a little, trying to meet her eyes. "What do you think about when you think of her?"For a moment, Emma was silent, her eyes focused on the little game pieces. Then, she began to speak, her voice so soft I had to strain to hear her."She used to play with me," Emma said, her fingers still twisting the edge of her sweater. "Snakes and Ladders, just like this. We'd play after school, and she'd always let me win. Not every time, but... most of the time." She gave a small, bittersweet smile.I stayed quiet, letting her continue. It was the most she'd talked about her mom since we started these sessions, and I didn't want to interrupt.Emma's voice wavered as she went on. "She would make us hot chocolate, too. We'd sit on the floor, just like this, and she'd tell me stories about when she was little." Her eyes glossed over with tears, and she blinked quickly, trying to hold them back. "I miss her so much."Her voice cracked, and before I knew it, the tears started to fall. It was as if the floodgates had opened, and all the grief she'd been holding inside for so long finally poured out. Her small shoulders shook as she cried, the sound so raw and full of pain that it hit me hard, right in the chest.I didn't hesitate. I moved beside her and gently pulled her into a hug, wrapping my arms around her as she cried into my shoulder. "It's okay," I whispered softly. "It's okay to miss her."Emma clung to me, her sobs muffled against my shirt. "I miss her so much," she kept repeating, her voice barely audible through her tears. "I miss her..."I didn't say anything for a while. I just held her, letting her cry. The room felt still, except for her quiet sobs and the steady rhythm of her breathing as she tried to calm down. I could feel her tiny hands clutching the fabric of my shirt, like she was afraid to let go.Eventually, her sobs quieted, and she pulled back a little, wiping at her face with her sleeve. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes red and puffy, but she looked a little lighter, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders."Thanks," she mumbled, sniffling as she wiped away the last of her tears.I smiled softly at her. "Anytime."Emma sat back, her fingers still clutching the edge of her sweater, but there was a hint of relief in her expression now. "I just... I miss playing with her. She was always around, and now she's not. And I hate that she's not here anymore. I hate it so much."Her voice cracked again, but she didn't cry this time. She just looked at me, her eyes filled with an emotion I knew all too well—grief. Pure, aching grief."I know," I said quietly, nodding in understanding. "It's okay to feel that way. It's okay to miss her. And it's okay to be angry about it."Emma sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "I just want her back.""I know," I whispered. "I know."For a moment, we just sat there in silence. The weight of her words, of her pain, hung heavy in the room. But there was also something else—a sense of connection, of understanding.Emma took a deep breath, her hands still fidgeting with her sweater. "Do you think she misses me?"My heart broke a little at the question, but I kept my voice steady. "Of course she does. She loved you. And love doesn't just go away, even when someone isn't here anymore."Emma nodded, her eyes glistening with fresh tears, but she didn't cry this time. She just wiped her nose again and looked at me with a small, tired smile."Thanks for talking to me," she said quietly. "I feel... I feel better now."I smiled back at her. "I'm glad."Emma pulled back from the hug fully, and that's when I noticed something... unfortunate. A string of snot—her boogers—had attached itself to my shirt, bridging the space between us like some kind of gross, emotional glue."Uh, Emma..." I gestured to the string of snot, trying to keep the moment light.She looked down at it and her eyes widened in embarrassment. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" she squeaked, immediately wiping her face with her sleeve.I laughed softly, grabbing a tissue from the box nearby and wiping it off my shirt. "It's okay, no big deal. Happens to the best of us."Emma giggled through her sniffles, clearly mortified but also starting to relax. "That's so gross," she mumbled, still wiping at her face."Hey, I've seen worse," I said with a grin. "Trust me, this is nothing."Emma smiled a little, the first genuine smile I'd seen from her in a while. "I feel better now," she said quietly, her voice still a little hoarse from crying. "I miss my mom, but... I feel better."I nodded, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I'm glad you do. And if you ever want to talk about her again, I'm here."Emma nodded, wiping at her nose one last time. "Thanks."We sat there for a while longer, finishing our game of Snakes and Ladders in comfortable silence. Emma still had that weight of grief hanging over her, but it felt lighter now—like she wasn't carrying it alone anymore.And as I sat there, watching her move her game piece, I realized just how much these moments mattered. Not just for her, but for me too. In a world that had taken so much from us, it was these small connections, these moments of comfort, that made it all a little more bearable.***I stepped out of the room after my session with Emma, feeling a strange mix of emotions swirling inside me. It had been a tough one, but I knew we were making progress. Emma was opening up more, little by little, and I could see that she was starting to heal, even if the wounds ran deep. Still, part of me couldn't shake the heaviness that lingered.As I closed the door behind me, I heard a familiar voice, smooth and teasing, with that undertone of professionalism that somehow always got under my skin."Well done in there, Jake," Dr. Applelove said, leaning against the wall, arms folded over her chest. Her dark eyes gleamed with approval as she studied me. "You're really starting to get the hang of this."I gave her a small, tired smile. "Thanks, Dr. Applelove. Just trying to keep up."She pushed off the wall and walked toward me, her long black hair cascading down her shoulders, her lab coat open over a perfectly tailored blouse. She had that whole "hot professional" thing going on, and it was impossible not to notice, even now. But today, there was no teasing in her tone—just the warmth of someone who had seen me grow into the role."You're doing more than keeping up," she said, her voice soft but firm. "You're making real progress with Emma. I can tell."I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Yeah, but... what happens next? She's been through so much. I can't help but worry."Dr. Applelove's smile faded a little, her expression turning more serious. "Emma's going to be reassigned to a foster family soon."The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I hadn't thought about that—about the fact that our sessions were coming to an end. Emma was going to leave, and I wouldn't be there to help her anymore.I looked at Dr. Applelove, my brow furrowing in concern. "She's... she's leaving?"She nodded, her tone gentle but firm. "Yes. She's been here long enough, and now it's time for her to move on. A foster family will give her the stability she needs. But you've helped her get to this point, Jake. You've done your job."I swallowed hard, trying to wrap my head around the idea of not seeing Emma anymore. "But what if she's not ready? What if she needs more time?"Dr. Applelove sighed, stepping closer, her eyes locking onto mine with a mixture of empathy and authority. "I know this part is hard. You've built a connection with her, and that's important. But there are more children like Emma who need help—kids who've lost everything and need someone to guide them. You have to be ready to let go."I felt a lump forming in my throat, the weight of what she was saying sinking in. I had known from the start that this was temporary, that Emma wouldn't be in my care forever, but it was different now that the moment was actually approaching."I don't know if I'm ready for that," I admitted quietly. "I mean, I knew this was coming, but... it feels like I'm abandoning her."Dr. Applelove's gaze softened, and she reached out to place a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "You're not abandoning her. You've given her the tools she needs to move forward. That's what this job is about. We help them through their pain, and then we let them go when they're ready."I nodded, though the tightness in my chest didn't ease. "And if she's not ready?"Dr. Applelove smiled gently. "She's stronger than you think, Jake. She'll be okay. You've helped her get to a place where she can move on, and that's no small thing. But you have to trust the process. You have to trust that what you've done has made a difference."I stood there, taking in her words, trying to convince myself that she was right. Emma was stronger now, more open, more willing to share her feelings. But still, the thought of not being there to see her through the rest of her journey felt like a punch to the gut."I just don't want her to feel like she's alone again," I said, my voice quiet.Dr. Applelove's expression softened further, and her hand squeezed my shoulder lightly. "She won't be. She has the foster family, and she has the support system we've built here. But more than that, she has the strength you've helped her find. You've made an impact, Jake. That's what matters."I nodded, feeling a little more at ease, though the ache of parting was still there. "So... what do I do next?""Next," she said, her tone shifting back to the more businesslike, confident manner I was used to from her, "you prepare yourself to say goodbye. You make sure your next session with Emma is focused on closure—helping her understand that this is a new beginning for her. Let her know that it's okay to move on."I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her words. "And after that?"Dr. Applelove smiled again, that playful glint returning to her eyes. "After that, you keep doing what you do best. There are more clients waiting for you, Jake. More people who need your help. You've proven that you can handle this, and now it's time to take on the next challenge."I let out a breath, trying to steady myself. "Right. More clients.""You've got this," she said, stepping back and giving me one last encouraging smile. "Remember, Jake, you're not alone in this either. You have a whole team here to support you.""Thanks, Dr. Applelove," I said, offering her a small smile in return."Anytime," she replied, her voice as smooth and comforting as ever. "Now, go get some rest. You've earned it."As I watched her walk away, I couldn't help but feel the weight of what she'd said hanging over me. Saying goodbye to Emma was going to be tough. Hell, it might be one of the hardest things I've done since I started this job. But Dr. Applelove was right—I had to let go, had to trust that what I'd done was enough.I took a deep breath, feeling the knot in my chest loosen slightly. Tomorrow would be hard, but it was part of the job. And if Emma could move on, then so could I.Q: How many jobs have you taken on so far?