Angelica

"Whenever you're ready, Angelica."

I kept playing with my sweater, finally tearing a hole near my thumb for it to poke through. I began nibbling on a hangnail, coughing at swallowing some of the chipped paint. Dr. Lyles continued to smile, his hands peacefully crossed against his chest as he waited for me to finally speak. Since my outburst at Christmas, I have been holding on to whatever thread of sanity I had left. My mother paid for up the three months worth of therapy and even wrote a check to Dr. Lyles if it was decided that I was not fully recovered after the scheduled ninety days. I found myself relapsing the evening after Christmas. I did not go home when I left Chuckie's house but found myself at an old friend's. He let me in after I gave him a blowjob in his car and let me stay the night there. I did just about anything to get my mind off what I had done at Chuckie's house that I even took to taking prescription valium and passing out in his mother's kitchen.

I woke up, startled, to him pouring water on me and then screwing me until my sex grew sore from chaffing. I wasn't even aroused; my head was somewhere else where I wish my body would take me. He kicked me out shortly after and I walked home smelling like sex, alcohol, and feeling a bitch of a migraine. Apparently my mother and father were out searching for me until the wee hours of the morning and asked my uncle Stu and aunt DiDi to help. There was a whole rescue party out for me until around six that morning. My mom was the first to embrace me when I came home, shelling hard pelts of tears against my jacket. My father didn't bother to look me in the eye since he felt responsible for causing this to happen to both me and my mother. He gave a call to everyone letting them know I was safe.

"What am I supposed to fucking say?"

"Anything you want."

"What if I don't want to talk to some stranger with a tacky comb over?"

He chuckled to my surprise, finding my attitude somewhat amusing. I kept messing with my sweater, not daring to look at him. "Is it that bad? I thought it at least did me some kind of justice."

I scoffed, finding his reaction funny. "Why do you want to talk to me anyhow? I'm not crazy."

"You don't have to be considered 'crazy' to see a therapist, Angelica. Some people just want someone to talk to that they know won't give a biased opinion."

"Why would your opinion matter to me?" I shot back, finding myself getting angry. I didn't know why but his smug attitude made me want to punch him in the left nut sack. "You don't know me."

"I want to help you."

"Why?"

"Because you are going through a rough time and I think you don't know to release your frustrations."

"Yeah I do." I countered, crossing my arms across my chest. I gave him a side glance. "I do just fine."

He began to scribble something down in the notepad he had resting in his lap, still smiling. He looked back up at me. "How do you take out your frustrations, Angelica?"

"Sex…alcohol….other things…." He wrote something again, this time without the smile. I immediately got worried. "You better not tell anyone this shit!"

"I assure you, Angelica, that everything you say to me will remain completely confidential." His smile came back. "Your parents won't even know what you tell me, even if they ask."

I grew quiet, feeling a little bit better but still a tad uneasy. I looked out his office window, gazing down the twenty-three stories onto the streets of downtown. His office reminded me of when I would visit my mother's downtown office when I was a little girl. Her assistant, Jonathan, would constantly run around satiating my desires for everything from candy to new Cynthia clothing sets. I think he genuinely hated me.

"You have a nice view."

"Thank you. Have you ever been this high up before?" I nodded, informing him about my mother's old office. "Does she still work there now?"

"Nah, she quit when my father divorced us. She just lounges around the house now collecting the fat alimony checks from my father."

He wrote something else in his notepad. "I noticed you said your father divorced 'us'. Why you a plural sense of the word?"

I shrugged, getting up from my chair to pace back and forth around his desk. I rubbed my nails against a few knickknacks he had lying about as well as the candy dish he had next to his nameplate. I asked if I could have a few and he encouraged I do so. I popped a soft peppermint into my mouth, sucking on its flavor like I was born to do. "He left us for a new family so when he divorced my mom, he divorced me too."

"Do you maintain a close relationship with him?"

I shook my head, taking another peppermint. "No, we don't speak unless on holidays. You only met him when he came to drop me off because my mom is sick. He would rather be at home with his foreign wife and new daughter than some fuck up like me."

There he goes with that damn notepad again. I asked him what he was writing and he simply replied with important details of our conversation. I told him again that if any word of our conversation had gotten out to anyone I would hurt him. He reassured me with another soft smile that everything said in this room would be locked in a file cabinet. The folder that the transcripts go in won't even have my legal name; just a randomized number to show anonymity.

"Why do you refer to yourself as 'fucked up', Angelica?"

I let out an exasperated sigh, getting annoyed. I was not used to people asking me a million questions about matters that did not concern them. Usually, whenever someone was this nosey I would deck them in the face and threaten to do worse if they kept it up. But Dr. Lyles was kind, sweet, and gentle and did not come off intimidating. "I guess I just am. I'm barely in school, lost my boyfriend, have a father that doesn't want me, and I can't function on the day-to-day basis without masturbating at least ten times a day."

"And why is that?"

I shrugged. "It keeps me from going out and sucking off a random guy I don't know."

"Does that curb your desires, Angelica?"

"Yes, sucking cock gets me off. It keeps me from actually opening my legs."

He nodded, writing another thing down in his notepad. His tone grew a little more serious. "How many would you say…"

"Over a thousand if I had to guess." I finished for him. His eyes bulged a little bit in response but he kept quiet. "I'm also an Aries, enjoy long walks on the beach, enjoy mashed potatoes and gravy, and I have no gag reflex so guys love that."

"I'm on your side here, Angelica. No need to grow testy." He spoke softly, smiling. "How many sexual partners have you had?"

"Three."

"Only three?"

I sucked in my teeth, wanting to slap the shit out of him for even questioning me. I'm not some total whore that gives it up to everyone contrary to belief. I did have some remnants of my morals and standards. "Yes, asshole, three people. My ex-boyfriend, some Black guy, and a guy I knew in High-School."

"Do you mind if we talk about your ex-boyfriend?"

I cringed at the thought. I was not ready to face the reality of us being broken up, let alone discuss how and why I hurt him. When I found out Charles was out there with the rest of my search party looking for me, my heart sank because-unintentionally- I was hurting him again. I just could not stop breaking that man's heart, even when we weren't together. He called my cell-phone a few times and left countless of messages but I ignored every single one of them to get high. Even after my father had alerted everyone I was safe, he tried to come over to talk to me but my mother turned him away; afraid of awakening another episode of mine. I watched from my bedroom window as he got back in his truck, sitting in my driveway for a few moments before driving away.

Since then, I changed my number and only gave it to Suzie and my uncle Stu because my mother made me- though he vowed to not give it to Tommy or anyone else. I didn't want Chuckie contacting me; my heart could no longer take it. I knew he had every right to break up with me, but I was just not ready to even talk to him about it; let alone try and be friends for the sake of peace. Tomorrow he was supposed to leave to go to Connecticut and today was New Year's Eve. I tried to get drunk this morning to numb the pain of knowing that by now I would be an engaged bride-to-be but since finding out about my demons, my mother and father threw out all the liquor in the house and kept a more watchful eye on me. I laughed at how ironic it is now that they show me attention and care what happens to me, but when I was younger would leave me at home for hours on end with nothing but a few credit card numbers and a flat screen television. You can't talk about your day and what happened at school to the Oprah show…I tried.

That's why I was so grateful I had Chuckie. Every day afterschool he would come over and keep me company until my parents came home- if they came home at all. He would cook me dinner, run me a nice warm bubble bath, massage my feet, and cuddle with me to the nostalgic reruns of Reptar. Looking back on everything, I knew in my heart I did not deserve Finster. I may have had the money and the fancy things, but his heart was made of pure gold while I mine grew cold and bleak over the years. Nevertheless, Charles stayed with me, loved me, and stood by me through my best and worst moments all without me ever asking him about his. I was a terrible girlfriend to him and he truly deserved someone better than me.

I broke down crying, unable to mask my emotions anymore. I was not as strong as I let other to believe. Dr. Lyles tried to hand me a few tissues but I pushed them away. I grabbed my jacket and asked if we could end things a bit early today. He nodded and told me he'll see me in the New Year and to try and enjoy my evening. I needed some fresh air and definitely needed to get away from my problems. I took the stairs down to the ground level since the elevator was being too damn slow and tried to hail a taxi. I wanted to go to the nearest bar and get shitfaced but I had no cash on me. I remembered I had my father's credit card in my wallet and suddenly grew irate. Before I could even get in the cab that had stopped for me, I felt a soft hand grab my shoulder.

I turned around, ready to knock the shit out of someone for having the audacity to touch me before I saw a six foot Finster; holding a large umbrella over me to shield me from the rain. I was so lost in my mind that I did not even notice that it had stopped snowing and turned into a light drizzle of rain.

"You getting in or what?" the driver yelled.

"Shut the fuck up!" I screamed, slamming the door. He flipped me the bird before he drove off into rush hour traffic. I wanted to react but I felt Chuckie's gloved hand kiss the side of my face, bringing my eyes to connect with his. The softness of his oceanic realms soothed me and made me grow weak.

He brought me in for a small kiss on my forehead before wrapping his free arm around me. I suddenly felt the chill of winter against my skin and wished I had worn a heavier jacket. He silently held me, closing his eyes as he placed another innocent kiss against me. I felt myself break down again, hoping that he would not notice the tears that were beginning to soak his jacket and mistake them for the rain. He pulled away from me, grabbing my hand to lead me to his parked truck on the side of the office building. I mindlessly followed, not caring where he took me.