His Little Amelia

|60| • Everest

"So you're saying I'm unhinged?"

Gabe scoffed, giving me a look which made me doubt my own words, he plopped his back on the chair, huffing. "No, man. I'm saying, if you want to be a good man to yourself and Amelia, you need to let go of the trauma."

"Trauma?" I snorted, narrowing my eyes. Now he sounded like Florescent, I didn't like that word. Whenever they said that it felt as though they were exaggerating the entire situation. Closing my eyes, I took a sharp inhale, thinking this through. There we were, sorted in my truck, parked beside Loren's Therapy.

Why was I here?

I was meant to be home, or at the mechanic shop, not here, contemplating whether to go in or not. I didn't know why Gabe was adamant to come with me, perhaps he knew I would have turned the truck around if he wasn't here, pushing me to do so with his glare — just as he was doing right now.

"You already booked the appointment." Gave began, "No, you booked the appointment." I corrected, pointing at him. I guess it was partially my fault for telling him how I reacted with Flo and that damned wine cork. Now, he concluded I needed help. How annoying.
"Potato potato," Gabe sang, waving his hands. "Look, it's right there! The step in the right direction." He urged, his eyebrows drawing together slightly. Why did he have to make me feel guilty? Narrowing my eyes, I held the steering wheel like my life depended on it.

To be a better man, he said.

"Okay." I huffed out, it wouldn't be so bad, right? Letting a stranger see me vulnerable, telling them the reason for my anxiety. It was as though I was going to strip down to nothing but my underwear and let the woman observe me as she scribbled in her notebook. Gabe sat up with a cheeky smile. "Okay?" He asked, treating my words. His excitement made me chuckle. I nod.

"Okay. Let's do this. I'll...go there."

"Great, because your appointment is starting in about five minutes," Gabe told me, checking his watch. Humming, I turned off the ignition, shoving the keys in my pocket. "So what are you going to do?" I asked him; he offered to follow me but was he going to wait in the car for the while I was there?

"Well, I'm going to explore the street, get a bouquet for my lady, eat in a restaurant, anything to pass the time. As long as you go in there and face your fears."

I snorted.

"I'm not scared."

"Sure." He deadpanned with a smirk. Tired of the bickering, I got out of the car, slamming the door shut and so did he. This was it, I was going to therapy. The thought didn't sit right with me, as I stared at the tall building, I felt goosebumps. "You're going to be okay," Gabe said, holding my shoulder in reassurance. All this while, I thought it was Gabe who would need therapy after getting out of the coma, turns out it was me. Nodding at him, I walked into the building.

It was a commercial building, each floor belonged to different businesses, the second floor was where Loren's Therapy was hosted. What I did notice was that the floor was dedicated to the healing of the mind, there was a counselling door, a relationship advice door and a therapy door with the name 'Loren' scribbled on it. From looking at my watch, I saw that my session had begun, so I placed my hand on the doorknob, twisting it open while holding my breath.

The first thing that hit me was the calm aura. The neutral yet welcoming colours of the wall and the pieces of furniture. There was a desk and chair at the edge, while an L-shaped couch and a single-seater sofa faced each other, a coffee table separating it.

"Good afternoon," I flinched at the voice, forgetting the woman I'd seen when taken into the room. Closing the door, I forced out a smile. "Hey, good afternoon." Standing awkwardly, I observed the woman. She was most likely in her middle age, her brown hair fixed in a military bun, her dark brown eyes glistening at mine.