Past Imperfect by Alison G. Bailey

Author:Alison G. Bailey [Bailey, Alison G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Contemporary
Publisher: Alison G. Bailey
Published: 2014-02-15T05:00:00+00:00

I hated lying to Brad tonight about where I was going after work. I’m just not ready to tell him I’m seeing a counselor. I’m not sure why, exactly. Maybe it’s because I didn’t want him to view me as weak. I’ve always thought going to any type of counseling was a sign of weakness. It probably comes from the fact that my dad never took me after my mom’s death. I had convinced myself that I just had to suck it up and get over it by myself. Of course, at the time I was fine with that. I didn’t want to talk about it to anyone. Looking back now, I can see how irresponsible and thoughtless it was of him. I wonder how different our lives and relationship would have been if he had sought help for both of us back then.

A bell chimes as I enter the counseling office of Jennifer Clark. The waiting room is decorated in calming brown, green, and cream hues. An overstuffed sofa is against one wall, flanked by two small end tables, with matching chairs facing it. A stack of out dated magazines on meditation and self-help are spread across the coffee table between the sofa and chairs. The lighting is dim, with just a few lamps in use. The sound of synthesized angel harps floats out of a boom-box and mixes with the trickling of water from a small fountain in the corner of the room. The room reeks of jasmine and has several green plants sitting around. It’s like a New Age purgatory.

I take a seat and scan through one of the magazines, needing to keep my hands and mind occupied. I sit alone for several minutes struggling with whether or not to stay or leave. Being here makes me uncomfortable despite the clichéd calming elements. I’m afraid of what questions she’s going to ask me, my answers to them, and what they’ll reveal about me. I’m afraid I’ve inherited more from my mother than just my looks and the counselor will finally be the person to voice what I’m terrified of, a future of becoming just like Mom. When I hear the music of Yanni play, I decide this isn’t for me. Tossing the meditation mag on the table, I stand, but then I hear the sound of a door opening down the short hallway leading to the back of the office. My hand reaches for the doorknob, but before I’m able to make my escape, a woman takes a few steps in my direction.

“Mabry Darnell?” she asks.

I cringe just before turning to face her, knowing I now have to go through with the appointment. “Yes, I’m Mabry Darnell.”

“Hi, I’m Jennifer Clark.” She extends her hand and we shake.

“Here’s the paperwork I filled out online.” I hand over my insurance info and the questionnaire regarding my history.

“Thank you. You can go on back. I’ll be right with you. It’s the last door on your right.” I simply nod and head down the hall to her office.

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