Harper

CHAPTER 6

HARPER

As I sit inside the psychologist’s office, I begin to wonder what exactly I’m doing here. I’m sitting on a hard couch with a table in front of me with a box of tissues. There’s a black leather chair across from me and a desk in the far corner. Other than a garbage can and the doctor’s qualifications framed on the wall, there is nothing else. This room is far from cozy, comfortable, or inviting.

I’m starting to remember why I put off making an appointment like this. This is so not my thing. I’m not the type of person who can unload all my deepest, most inner feelings to someone I know well, let alone a perfect stranger. Everyone always says it’s easier to talk about the hard stuff with a stranger or a therapist, since they don’t know you at all. They aren’t judging you and have no background information or prior knowledge of who you are. I will give this a try, but I doubt I can last more than a few minutes.

As I take a deep breath in preparation for the conversation about to take place, the door swings open, and a tall female psychologist walks in. She holds a leather notebook and pen. I stay on the couch, but she walks over to me and puts her hand out.

“Hello, Harper. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Stine,” she introduces herself.

I shake her hand and look up at her, “Nice to meet you too.”

“How are you?” she asks, as she takes a seat on the leather chair across from me and opens her notebook.

“Um, I’m okay I guess. Well, I guess I’m not really okay if I’m here, right?” I answer.

“It doesn’t actually mean you’re not okay. It just means there’s something you might need help working through or need to talk about with someone other than your family or friends,” Dr. Stine tries to explain.

“I do need help working through some things, and I probably do need to talk, but I don’t know how well this will go,” I say defensively, as I always do when it concerns emotions and feelings about something hard to handle.

Dr. Stine nods and jots something down, which bugs me a little. What could she possibly have to write down about me already? I have barely been here two minutes. That makes me want to tell her even less than I already do.

“Would you like to start by telling me a little about yourself before we discuss what brought you in today? Maybe something about your childhood, family, friends, anything like that.”

“Not really. I’d rather just get right to it,” I blurt out.

Dr. Stine looks a little surprised, but did she really expect me to carry on and on about my whole life’s story before I even tell her why I came?

“Okay, you can tell me why you wanted to come in, and then hopefully you can tell me about yourself,” she compromises.

Dr. Stine looks up at me expectantly, waiting for me to give her an explanation of why I’m here. I open my mouth to try telling her, but nothing comes out. All I can think about is that night Leah called two weeks ago, which was the beginning of the worst night of my life. My breath catches in my throat, and I can’t speak, just like that night.

 

My phone rang suddenly in late into the night. It woke me out of a sound sleep, and I was barely awake when I answered. I looked at the phone, and through blurry eyes could make out my sister’s name on the screen. “Leah?” I answered.

“Harper, I’m sorry to call so late. I know you’re sleeping, and you have a lot going on there with finals and everything.”

“What’s going on Leah?” I just wanted to know why she was calling at this hour and was worried it was something bad.

“It’s not easy to tell you this.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” I ask again.

“I just got home from the hospital. I went to dinner with Mom and Dad earlier tonight. Mom wanted me to drive. On the way home, there wasn’t a lot of traffic, and everything was fine,” she begins.

“Okay, so where are you going with this? What happened? Just cut to it, Leah, I say worried and agitated. I hear Leah take a deep breath before she continues.

“We were hit head-on by a semi, Harp. I couldn’t swerve to get out of the way. There wasn’t enough time, and there was nowhere to go.”

“Oh my gosh! Why didn’t anyone call me earlier? I would’ve come home. Is everyone okay?”

“Harp, there was no reason for you to drive three hours, especially worried and scared. There was nothing you could do. We didn’t need something to happen to you too,” she tries to reassure me.

“What do you mean? You’re home from the hospital already after being hit by a semi? Are Mom and Dad home too?”

“I managed to make it out without any serious injuries, so I’m fine. We were hit from the other side. Harp, Mom and Dad aren’t okay. I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“Damn it, Leah! Just say it. What happened to them?” I demand.

“Oh gosh. This is harder than I even imagined. Harper, they didn’t make it. I’m so sorry,” Leah says sadly. I hear her sniff and fight back tears.

“They didn’t make it out? What do you mean they didn’t make it? You were driving, and you are fine! You are home! How can that be? This can’t be happening. This can’t be. F**k you, Leah!” I yell in a rage of emotions and begin to sob. Leah is yelling for me through the phone, but I dropped it on the floor and started pounding my fists on the bed, wailing.

“Harper?”

 

“Harper? Are you okay? It’ll help if you tell me why you came in today,” Dr. Stine repeats.

I look up and realize I was completely lost in the memory of that night. “Uh, um. Wow, this is even harder than I imagined.”

“It gets better. I promise,” she encourages.

“My parents. They were in an accident and didn’t make it out,” I blurt out suddenly. I take a deep breath and look away. Maybe I should’ve gone with my first instinct and not come here.

“Oh, Harper. I’m so sorry. I understand why you’re here now and why this is so hard. There’s no need to go on any further right now,” she gives me a sad smile, which doesn’t help.

I nod and say, “You’re right. No need to go any further. Sorry, but I can’t do this.” I don’t know what came over me suddenly, but I stand up quickly, grab my purse off the couch, and stomp out of Dr. Stine’s office. The tears begin to fall down my face without warning. It is all I can do not to run full-speed out of the building. I keep my head down and keep walking, picking up the pace, until I see the front doors. Finally, I’m almost out of here. It was worse than I thought it’d be.