"Hi Isabella, pick a seat." Esme leads me into her plush, Manhattan office outside of the clinic. The walls are a muted, dark navy with gold accents scattered throughout. It looks good, not like any psychiatrist's office I've ever seen on television.
This seems like a test, and I look around for my options. Armchair on the side, or sofa directly in front of what I assumed was Esme's chair, separated by a glass coffee table.
I sit down on the couch, dropping my parka behind me. Esme closes the door and her stiletto's tap around on hardwood floors until she sits down with a notepad and a Montblanc.
"So, how are you today?" She asks, tucking a strand of now straight hair behind her ear. A star-shaped stud adorns her earlobes and a matching necklace lays against the chiffon of her white blouse. I now see that the little star jewelry matches the itty-bitty stars scattered onto her wide-legged pants.
"I got a job, today was my first day." I smile a little and fumble in my seat. I'm kinda hungry already since the fruit didn't fill me up and I was too shy to take too much with me, besides the omelette for later.
Esme smiles and her eyebrows arch. She's wearing navy eyeliner that make her blue eyes pop.
"That's wonderful! What kind of job is it?"
"Housekeeping at a hotel nearby my apartment."
"Do you like it?" She asks, writing stuff down. I frown.
"Don't worry, Isabella. I'm just writing things down because I don't want to forget. These notes are for me, and only me. No worries, they're not about judging you whatsoever." She smiles, noticing my facial expression, reading me like the good psychiatrist she is.
"It's okay. I have a job now, so I have some extra money coming in." I explain. I can't judge whether I like or don't like this job just yet. After all, it's only been one day.
"Extra money?" Esme wonders.
"Yeah," I take a deep breath. "I ah— I rent out my parents house in Harlem. It's a beautiful brownstone, and I was able to charge quite some money for it. Two hipsters live there now."
"I see. So that was your source of income the past few years?"
"No, not really." I play with the rubber band around my wrist. "I've had several jobs. Minimum wage, mostly since I never went to college. I only barely completed high school, so yeah." I shrug. "Most bosses ended up firing me if I got angry at customers, or when they noticed I'd been using, when I get my depression episodes… The usual." I smile bitterly.