A Dry Black Dress

A black dress.  It fit her well, curved nicely around the pain and sorrow.  The veil gave the outside world a shade that Aislinn felt inside.  Black... Dark... Pick one.  Either way, they left no room for smiling or laughter.  Who knew black weighed so much.

He asked her why there were no tears, why not one drop of water graced such a sorrowful dress.  Aislinn did not reply, her eyes focusing on a green bonsai tree next to his chair.  It didn't calm her... the small waterfall on the corner bookshelf or the soft ambient music playing in the background.  She sat across from him like most sessions and continued to blankly stare.

And like most therapy offices, the room was created for comfort and to be a soothing environment.  The walls took on a cappuccino color, accented by pale maroon and black.  When Aislinn first came into his office, her first thought was how many crazy people did he have to heal to get such a nice leather chair and beautiful mahogany desk.  But after a few sessions, she began to find the flaws.  There were no family photos, no children’s drawings.  Though some might have found comfort in the thought that maybe the person was as alone they were, Aislinn felt bitterness towards him because of it.  If Mr. Therapist was just as lonely, then why did she have to do all of the crying?  If he actually understood, he would merely leave her be.

The silence filled the open room, maximizing the sound of his pants brushing up against each other as Mr. Therapist once more switched his sitting position.  His elbows now rested on his knees as his well groomed hands massaged his temples.  Mr. Therapist’s patience was thinning.  But she did not wish to talk, let alone talk about crying.  Aislinn did not wish to cry.  He had been trying for weeks to coax a tear from her.  He had retold her over and over what had happened, trying to get her to feel SOMETHING!  Aislinn was feeling something, but he never seemed to listen when she would try to explain to him. Try to explain what happened in the woods that day.  How she felt about the one tear that fell onto that beautiful white dress.  He said that when her mother looked at it, there was nothing there, but Aislinn saw it.  She saw the black stain it left as it spread like a plague.  Her sorrow had stained the perfect cloth, the perfect lace and pattern.  It was all her fault.  She was no longer angelic… No longer his angel.

But he wouldn't listen.  Mr. Therapist would say to her, "But Aislinn... You took off that dress weeks ago."

He just never understood.  The young woman could still feel it on her, laced around her heart and soul.  That white dress she never wished to ruin clung to her with every fiber of her being.  It was not white anymore though, but the blackest of black.  Aislinn wanted to ruin that filthy black dress but could not get herself to take it off.  It was merely mourning him too.  The dress had seen him smile, heard him speak.  It bounded her to him, and she didn't want to let him go.  He thought it was lovely once.

She brushed a few loose strands of fire-red hair behind her naked ear.  A sigh escaped the therapist’s lips.  Maybe he had deemed the silent girl hopeless or merely grew tired of her unwillingness.  Either way, Mr. Therapist told her she was free to leave, and without a word, that is just what Aislinn did.

 

Reviews

[AK]

Okay, you've got me hooked. I want to know more about her, more about him. What brought them together? What separated them? The mystery of her is like a decadent dessert but we need some meat and potatoes now to build on. Take your time, don't rush it... but keep it coming.

Nicely done.