has been lately. The idea of spending an evening alone with him
where he might ask me questions I won't know how to answer scares the hell out of
me. But at the same time, I feel a bubble of nerves and butterflies in my stomach
that have nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the thrill of the unknown
and where it might lead. Maybe there's hope for me yet.
" Would you say that you go through each day expecting that the people around you are
going to let you down?" Dr. Thompson asks me before she takes a sip of her Panera
coffee.
I shrug as I pick a hangnail. "Sure. It's easier that way and it just makes sense."
I glance up when she doesn't say anything and am glad I don't see a look of pity on
her face. The only reason I continue coming to Dr. Thompson each week is because she
never pities me. She's concerned for me about the things I've been through, but she
never feels sorry for me. I can't stand anyone feeling sorry for me, like I'm this
sad, pathetic little girl that people need to coddle.
"Tell me how that makes sense, Addison? I want to understand what goes on in that
pretty head of yours when you think about these things. And stop picking at your nails,"
she scolds as she sets her cup down on the table next to her chair.
I immediately pull my hands apart and smack them down on either side of me on the
couch with a guilty look on my face, just like I used to do when my mom would reprimand
me for the exact same thing. I huff irritably and cross my arms in front of me.
"Look, if I go into things expecting people to suck, when they finally DO suck, it's
not that bad. They acted just like I thought they would, I'm not surprised, and I
can just move on. If I walked around every day with my head in the clouds, thinking
everyone in my life will never let me down and will never hurt me, it won't be long
before they show their true colors and disappoint me. It's easier to just accept the
fact that I'm the only one looking out for me."
I finish with my explanation and wait for her to tell me how wrong I am—about life,
about the people around me, about my opinions. Just like every week, though, she never
does what I expect her to do.
"I would have done the exact same thing if I were you. It's tough being so young and
having the people close to you let you down so many times when you need them most.
Just try and do me a favor. Keep an open mind. Sometimes, people will surprise you."
I feel like I'm going to throw up from nerves. I've looked at the clock a hundred
times since I put the "closed" sign on the front door. Before I can change my mind
and run out of the building, there's a knock on the back door. Looking quickly around
the kitchen to make sure it's not too much of a disaster, I take a few deep breaths
and walk to the door and turn the deadbolt.
"I brought you flowers," Zander says with a smile as I open the door. I laugh and
feel instantly at ease when he pulls two bags of flour out from behind his back and
hands them to me.
"Wow, how very romantic of you," I tell him.
I cringe and want to take the word back immediately. Why did I say romantic? This
isn't a date. Nothing about this is romantic. He didn't ask me out; he asked if I
could help him. Big difference. I'm teaching him how to bake. The end. He doesn't
even acknowledge my word choice or notice the turmoil going on in my brain over one
simple word. He just hands over the bags of flour and walks through the door and farther
into the kitchen.
I close the back door and turn to set the bags on the wood block island in the middle
of the kitchen, ignoring his stare as he watches me move about. I know if I look at
him right now I'm going to feel like an idiot. Walking over to my iPod dock on the
side counter, I turn on Pandora, switching it from the angry chick rock station to
just plain rock. Something tells me Zander wouldn't appreciate listening to a
where he might ask me questions I won't know how to answer scares the hell out of
me. But at the same time, I feel a bubble of nerves and butterflies in my stomach
that have nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the thrill of the unknown
and where it might lead. Maybe there's hope for me yet.
" Would you say that you go through each day expecting that the people around you are
going to let you down?" Dr. Thompson asks me before she takes a sip of her Panera
coffee.
I shrug as I pick a hangnail. "Sure. It's easier that way and it just makes sense."
I glance up when she doesn't say anything and am glad I don't see a look of pity on
her face. The only reason I continue coming to Dr. Thompson each week is because she
never pities me. She's concerned for me about the things I've been through, but she
never feels sorry for me. I can't stand anyone feeling sorry for me, like I'm this
sad, pathetic little girl that people need to coddle.
"Tell me how that makes sense, Addison? I want to understand what goes on in that
pretty head of yours when you think about these things. And stop picking at your nails,"
she scolds as she sets her cup down on the table next to her chair.
I immediately pull my hands apart and smack them down on either side of me on the
couch with a guilty look on my face, just like I used to do when my mom would reprimand
me for the exact same thing. I huff irritably and cross my arms in front of me.
"Look, if I go into things expecting people to suck, when they finally DO suck, it's
not that bad. They acted just like I thought they would, I'm not surprised, and I
can just move on. If I walked around every day with my head in the clouds, thinking
everyone in my life will never let me down and will never hurt me, it won't be long
before they show their true colors and disappoint me. It's easier to just accept the
fact that I'm the only one looking out for me."
I finish with my explanation and wait for her to tell me how wrong I am—about life,
about the people around me, about my opinions. Just like every week, though, she never
does what I expect her to do.
"I would have done the exact same thing if I were you. It's tough being so young and
having the people close to you let you down so many times when you need them most.
Just try and do me a favor. Keep an open mind. Sometimes, people will surprise you."
I feel like I'm going to throw up from nerves. I've looked at the clock a hundred
times since I put the "closed" sign on the front door. Before I can change my mind
and run out of the building, there's a knock on the back door. Looking quickly around
the kitchen to make sure it's not too much of a disaster, I take a few deep breaths
and walk to the door and turn the deadbolt.
"I brought you flowers," Zander says with a smile as I open the door. I laugh and
feel instantly at ease when he pulls two bags of flour out from behind his back and
hands them to me.
"Wow, how very romantic of you," I tell him.
I cringe and want to take the word back immediately. Why did I say romantic? This
isn't a date. Nothing about this is romantic. He didn't ask me out; he asked if I
could help him. Big difference. I'm teaching him how to bake. The end. He doesn't
even acknowledge my word choice or notice the turmoil going on in my brain over one
simple word. He just hands over the bags of flour and walks through the door and farther
into the kitchen.
I close the back door and turn to set the bags on the wood block island in the middle
of the kitchen, ignoring his stare as he watches me move about. I know if I look at
him right now I'm going to feel like an idiot. Walking over to my iPod dock on the
side counter, I turn on Pandora, switching it from the angry chick rock station to
just plain rock. Something tells me Zander wouldn't appreciate listening to a
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