Therapy Session

This is yet another story of a therapy session that never happened, one that did not take place after a real event that happened to me when I was twelve-years-old.

I hear the click-clack of kitty heels hitting the tile floor get louder, the doctor is nearing.

As I sit in my chair, my left knee shakes, and my hands are clasped together. A bead of sweat runs down my scarring forehead.

My first therapy session.

I’m twelve years old just starting seventh grade.

The therapist looks down at me and smiles.

“Hello, Princess.”

“Hi, Dr. Parker”

“How are you feeling?”

She looks towards the dark purple cast on my right leg.

“It hurts,” said with a strained, fake smile.

“Well, let’s have a talk about how this happened, shall we?”

“Okay.”

I stand up and cringe at the pain of the blood flowing to my broken ankle, crutches on either side of me.

God, I hate these things, I think to myself, they hurt my arms so badly.

I follow Dr. Parker to her room.

There’s a comfy off-white couch with decorative throw pillows that I’m sure I’ll have a hard time getting out of, I stare at it unevenly. Dr. Parker helps me to the couch. “Thanks,” I quietly whisper with a weak smile. I hate showing weakness.

She looks me in the eyes and smiles.

She walks over to her chair and takes a seat.

“Do you remember anything that happened?” She questioned.

“Well,” I started shakily, “My mom and I were coming from Kohl’s and I had just bought the cutest shorts ever because I was starting to get confident in my mosquito-bitten legs enough to show them off, and my Mom had run into the car in front of us, and the hood on our car was all bent outta shape,” Dr. Parker nods her head and scribbles something on a notepad, which makes me nervous, “an-and then I freaked out because I was scared of the airbags, so as soon as that happened, I quickly unbuckled and jumped into the back seat on the driver’s side,” I’m fiddling with my hoodie strings at this point, unable to look into the doctor’s eyes. “Then I jumped out of the car, which remained static and totaled,” I paused.

“Mhm, go on, Princess, don’t be shy.” Dr. Parker urged.

“I was in the median, where there’s grass and no cars are supposed to go because it’s grass, it separates the two two-lane roads.” 

“Right, and what did your Mother do when you exited the car?”

“I’m not sure, she was doing something on her phone when I got out, I think she was telling my Dad we were in an accident.”

“Okay,” she scribbles something on her notepad again, “continue.”

“I was looking around, looking at the car in front of us that we hit, amazingly, as much damage as it did to our car, it barely put a dent in their minivan. I was looking ahead when I should’ve been looking back. What happened was my fault. All mine, for being so stupid - ”

“What happened was not your fault, Princess. Do you remember what happened after that?”

“I kept telling my Mom to get out of the car because I thought it was going to explode or something,” more scribbles, “and I’m really glad that she didn’t. After multiple times of her saying, ‘Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on,’ I stood out on the grass of the middle of a highway. The median, mind you, I didn’t even move far from the car.”

Dr. Parker nodded her head and smiled at me again, “I’m not forgetting, Princess, don’t forget I have my trusty little notepad here,” she tapped her little yellow notepad with her point 0.5mm sparkly blue lead pencil.

“Then, just out of nowhere, everything went black.”

One of her eyebrows raised but went back down abruptly.

“It was like montage images of me being loaded into an ambulance, EMT’s shouting words I didn’t know, me being rolled into a hospital, then I don’t remember much of what happened after that. All I know is that I woke up in a hospital bed with an ugly pink cast on my ankle and bandages on my forehead and arms. It was difficult to breathe and I had these little tubes in my nose. My head was hurting really a lot, too.”

She looked again at my cast, “Your cast is purple.”

My eyes meet hers, “I know, I was so repulsed by my Pepto-Bismol looking cast, I immediately asked for a blue one, but they were out of blue so I asked for purple.”

“What did they say when they told you what happened?”

“They said I was hit by a car,” I said, all nonchalant.

“Is that all they said?”

“No, ma’am, they said the car that was coming up from behind us was going too fast and didn't have time to stop, so when they saw my Mom's stopped car, they swerved into the median,” I paused for a beat, "and hit me. They said that I flew eighty feet from the car and five feet in the air, I was super-girl for a few seconds,” I chuckled, and she smiled wryly. “Um, until I landed on that metal grate, that is. The doctor said that I had a broken ankle and bruised lungs. I had glass fragments in my forehead and forearms and he had said that they put a titanium screw in my ankle."

“How do you feel about this whole thing, Princess?”

“I don’t know, I was sad I had to leave all that GREAT hospital food only after three days, and I mean that. Their food was SO GOOD, I’m obviously in pain,” I pointed to the scarring over wounds in my forehead and arms, "and you want to know what the worst part of it was?”

“What would that be?”

“They cut off the brand-new shorts that I had just bought and I could never again find a pair like it.” 

I laughed. Then we both burst out laughing.

Author's Note

This therapy session never happened, Dr. Parker was literally thought up in my head because of Spider-man, because...I don't know I was just thinking about Spider-man. Everything I "told" the therapist was true, though. I decided to make it a woman. This event happened five years ago. So I'm all healed up now. That screw is gonna stay in me for the rest of my life, so there's that. Whenever I tell that story, I always try to include the shorts part because I always get a laugh on that part. What happened to me may have been tragic, but I like to think I found some humor in it. Oh, and for some of y'all who are confused, the reason the therapist kept calling me "Princess" is because that's my real name. :) Thoughts?

Reviews

[Franky]

I thought your name was Phoenix? Lol

I like it! You are a riveting story teller. I used to write poetry but I was so bad at it that I decided to write stories instead. I'm less bad at that.

You kept my attention thr entire time. Very nice!! Sorry you got hurt though.

[Nix is typing...]

"Phoenix" is my pseudonym, "Nix" for short, I don't like my real name, "Princess", just doesn't sound like the name of someone who can't be taken seriously, I think "Nix" is a little bit more grownup, don't you think? Thenks for the read and review, Frankie 😌

[Nix is typing...]

I shoulda read the rest of that comment before I pressed send, thank you for the compliment ☺🥰

[Franky]

You are very welcome sweet lady. I like your stuff. Reading it is like reaching into a jar for jelly beans. You never know what you will get.

[Nix is typing...]

I like Jellybeans!!! 😄

[Franky]

I think you ARE a jelly bean. 😀

[Franky]

You're cute, colorful, tasty, and sweet. Ha!!

[Nix is typing...]

Haha thank you!!! 🥰

[Samuel Dickens]

I do what you've done many times, using a real life event to create a story. You were so lucky that day, I suspect you have a guardian angel. Very good writing.

[barleygirl]

I'm sorry you got blown off the shoulder of the highway like that! I love your storytelling, which is honest & straightforward & animated. I love that, instead of telling this as a story that happened to you, you turn it into a conversation. This is the crux of the old saying "SHOW don't tell". Make a story into a scene, which you did.

But I wonder why I'm seeing two fake therapist stories so close together . . . maybe next time you could choose a different kind of conversation. In a "therapist" interaction, the therapist is nothing but a place-holder -- no personality, no part in the story, only asking bland non-reactive questions. This is similar to how a lawyer might question someone in the witness chair. It's a good way to practice dialogue, but not a very interactive interaction.

It might also be interesting to choose another kind of person, one who has more of an opinion about the story your narrator is telling. A therapist is no challenge at all, a non-person. Your next challenge could be to tell a story where both sides of the conversation are animated, even contentious. Just an observation. Your writing is well-thought-out & fun to read (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Nix is typing...]

Thanks for your advice, Miss Margie! I'll definitely take that into consideration the next time I decide to write something with dialogue, maybe I'll make it seem like I'm having a conversation with my best friend "Caleb is typing..." :) And thanks for saying you love my storytelling! I'm not usually very good at telling stories, but when I told this one to my best friend, that's kinda how I put it, building up to why I had a cast on my leg. I always love your reviews, thank you so so much!!! ❤️

[spacelava]

This was beautiful! All of your works carry such strong, intense emotions - they literally burst with them and you capture everything so beautifully. I also love that your real name is Princess. Princess Nix - you sound like a character from a fantasy novel! So cute!

[Nix is typing...]

Thank you so much, Marija! You're so sweet!! ❤️
I like how you think my real name sounds like a character from a fantasy novel! Thanks so much for your review!!

[Kari Rakitan]

I like the details in this story. I find it interesting how the therapist calls her "Princess" all the time, and also the importance placed on the color of the cast and the color of the therapist's pencil.

[Nix is typing...]

Thanks for your review! I've honestly never had a therapy session in my life (Well, the three when I was fourteen, I don't count) just because my parents don't want me to have a therapist, so I don't actually know how a therapist would talk to their patient. I tried to put as much detail in the story as I could to make it more vivid and 3D. Thanks again for your review, Kari!!

[T.S. Ulmus]

I cried, princess.

This writing is worth a great many more words but that you actually moved me to tears will have to suffice.

[Nix is typing...]

Aww, I never knew that my story could move someone to tears. I'm so glad you liked it, I always love your reviews, whether they're quite wordy or a review of few words! Thank you so much for your review!!! ❤️