Her Name Is Hazel by Sarah Forester Davis

Author:Sarah Forester Davis [Davis, Sarah Forester]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B09W65JB2D
Goodreads: 60673466
Publisher: #PrB.rating#4.49
Published: 2022-03-21T00:00:00+00:00

Hazel

-during-

It’s nice to meet you,” my new counselor says as she closes the door behind her. She looks friendly, warm, like I actually might be able to trust her.

“You, too,” I say back.

“You can make yourself comfortable,” she points to an empty couch.

I haven’t actually been in a real counselor’s office before. I’ve been in a few movies where my character desperately needed the guidance of a professional, but up until a few months ago, I never thought of myself as needing mental help.

This room, though, looks exactly like those sets I walked out on as a happy, thriving teenager. A chair, pulled out in front of a desk, where the counselor will sit and ask me how I’m feeling. A couch, where I can lie back on the overly cushioned pillows and tell this lady my deepest, darkest secrets. The box of tissues on the side table, looking untouched even though I know hundreds of shaking fingers have, at one point or another, reached for one.

“Hazel,” my name is softly said. I slowly turn to face her. “You can sit,” she’s still pointing to the couch.

I do, leaning back on the soft fabric, wondering how the hell I got to this point in my life.

“My name is Crystal,” she says, like I didn’t already know this. “Do you want to tell me a little bit about yourself? What brings you in here today?”

My parents, my parents begged that I come in here today. My mom made a list of all the counselors in the neighboring towns, all at least twenty miles away from my own house. Crystal’s name jumped out at me.

“I sort of hit rock bottom,” is what I find myself saying. “Stopped eating. Didn’t leave my room. Thought about death a couple times.” The truth. The honest, blunt truth.

She doesn’t falter, which makes me feel like she already knew all of this. “I’m sorry that you got to a point in your life where you felt like that was the only way out.”

That’s not what I was expecting her to say. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Do you feel the same way right now?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m actually pissed at myself for thinking those thoughts. For allowing myself to feel that low.” The truth. The honest, blunt truth.

She smiles. “Regret is actually progress, even if it doesn’t feel like it. Are you comfortable telling me some events that have happened over this year? Things that led up to hitting your rock bottom?”

I look past her shoulder, to the bookcase behind her desk. You can gather a lot of personal information from looking at someone’s bookcase. Favorite reading material, professional awards, family life. I stand from the couch and walk closer to the shelves, scanning the contents as if they’re going to share a secret with me. She has a daughter, a gymnast.

“You have kids?” I turn and ask her.

“Two,” she answers, standing to join me. She points to the picture I’m currently looking at. “My daughter is seven, she’s extremely gifted in gymnastics.

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