A/N: Glad you enjoyed the last one.
To iterate, I am on social media. So far, it's just Twitter (metatron8539459) we will see if I add others.
You can use that OR download the Fanfiction app, so you don't miss an update for this story or any other story! Doesn't feel like the email problem is getting fixed any time soon but I refuse to sit on this story until it does, so I have my workaround using socials and the app.
I have a feeling the next one after this will be GIGANTIC! You thought the Halloween one was big, wait for Christmas!
Temperatures are plummeting around here, so it's not hard to get into that holiday mindset. I know California isn't the Midwest, but you get my point.
BTW: I've been bursting with ideas the last few weeks, but I will only brainstorm for now; I want to give this story the focus it needs before starting anything new.
tick...Tick...TICK...
Dr. Ivy was sitting across from Mia, both of them silent. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the hanging clock.
It was from Edinburgh, according to the manufacturer on the face. But it was an odd one. This particular clock had "IIII" rather than the Roman numeral for 4 (IV). Otherwise, it continued on with the standard symbols. Unbeknownst to Mia, some clocks just happened to do this. It was a matter of preference, apparently.
That was a nice distraction for about thirty seconds, but it wasn't going to get the teen girl through the next hour.
Mia shifted her eyes carefully to the clock because it hung on the wall just to the left of the therapist's head. She didn't want them to think she was staring.
Ivy was playing it cool as well.
First rule of new patients, try really hard to get them to talk first. Ivy wanted to refrain from leading questions or anything like that. The patient needed to steer the conversation so they would be more comfortable spilling their guts. Anything else would feel like an interrogation. They didn't want Mia to perceive them as another authority figure but a friend.
(This girl is a steel trap. I picked up on that when we first met.)
Mia had always been hit or miss when meeting new people. And to trust this one implicitly with your biggest secrets...it's asking a lot.
They discreetly checked their phone and saw that fifteen minutes had passed.
(Alright, this first session is going to be a bust unless I try something. But make it a soft ball.)
Dr. Ivy leaned over and pretended to nurse a leg cramp.
"Are you okay?" asked Mia.
"Oh this?" Ivy replied. "Nothing. Charlie horse. I get it from sitting still too long. Never used to bother me."
Mia shifted on the couch.
"Why?"
"My doctor says that I need to do these stretches every day since I don't dance like I used to."
The teenager sat up straighter in her seat.
"You dance?"
Ivy smiled internally as they left their "sore muscle" alone.
"Used to," they emphasized. "Don't you?"
Mia pressed her lips together.
"You heard I guess..."
"I mean I haven't seen it...but people say you're good."
Mia smirked.
"I'm no Sylvie Guillem but I do alright."
"That name sounds familiar," Ivy nodded. "Think I saw her on TV once."
She crossed her arms.
"Yeah, she did a ton of ballets. You know the dancing teacher?"
"Madame...Chaudet?"
Mia nodded yes.
"She actually knew Sylvie when she was living in Paris. They both went to the Paris Opera Ballet, the oldest of its kind."
Ivy was genuinely impressed. They had no idea but given the professor's age and her origin, they would have crossed paths then.
"Knowing that Chaudet knew her..." Ivy leaned in. "...must feel like high praise when she compliments you."
The girl visibly blushed and sank into the couch.
(Wow, I never thought of it that way before.)
Ivy looked down at the notepad, tapping it with a pen.
"Tell me, how young were you when you started dancing? Just...for fun, you know?"
Mia rubbed her arm, thinking about the question.
"Well...I guess since forever," she mildly chuckled. "I can't remember, so it must have been way back."
"Lots of routines that need a partner in ballet," they said. "Who was your partner of choice?"
The Latina tugged at the fabric of her shirt. Well, it wasn't always her shirt.
Light gleamed from the dangling locket.
Ivy took a mental note of that.
(Mia needs a hand if she's going to continue to talk.)
"It wasn't mom, was it?"
Mia blinked hard, glistening tears forming in her eyes.
Dr. Ivy wordlessly handed her a box of tissues. She accepted them without saying anything either.
"Tell me...about...the two of you. How did you get along?"
She looked up at the therapist, breathing deeply.
"Uh...we were pretty close." A smile crept onto her teary face. "We hung out all day at the record shop when I wasn't in school, and we'd sometimes put on shows."
"What kind of shows?"
Mia shrugged.
"Like dance shows, wanting to try out all the new stuff I learned. Sometimes relatives and friends, but mostly just mom. She was always tired."
Her brown eyes darted back and forth.
"Still is, I guess. Dad would say it cheered her up."
Ivy nodded as they wrote.
"Did it?"
Mia nodded, "Yeah. She would smile and laugh and clap at the end."
Her face fell and she hugged herself.
They noticed a similar thing with Tori is happening to her daughter. When Sam is mentioned, the body language gives it away. They shift a bit, changing their posture. A serene smile manifests on their faces but it quickly dissolves when reality sets in.
"Can we talk about something else, please?"
Obviously, Sam is associated with a happy time. That's only natural. But Ivy ponders if conflating memories of her father with her love of dance (which he clearly encouraged) made her quit after his death.
"Sometimes, with things we love, they can lose some of that spark. Has that happened to you?"
"Yeah," she nodded quietly.
"What made you get back into it?" they asked.
"Mom made me," Mia huffed. "The audition for Hollywood Arts."
Ivy bit their lip and continued.
"Clearly, you passed. Did anything else happened?"
Mia stood up.
"I need to use the bathroom!"
Before getting a response in the affirmative, Mia left the room and proceeded down the hall.
She took a while before coming back and once she did, Mia just took a knee and ran out the clock.
(As first sessions go, I've seen worse.)
Ivy returned to their apartment, letting out the biggest sigh.
Cody ran over, hearing the sound of the door opening.
The German Shepherd barked.
"Ruhig!"
He sat and got quiet with a small whine.
They walked up and patted his head.
Ivy glanced over to the kitchen table and saw the white envelope with the walker's pay was gone.
(Good, she got it.)
Then they got down to Cody's level and ran fingers through his thick coat.
"Can I tell you something?" Ivy whispered. "I love you."
Cody licked them all over, Ivy laughing like a child.
"Okay, okay, okay, how about we go to the park, yeah?"
Cody barked enthusiastically.
Ivy made the quiet sign with the finger on the lips. He relented.
They have been practicing with non-verbal commands for a while.
Cody got hooked up onto his leash and the happy pair ventured forth to their daily ritual. They always hit the dog park right before dusk.
Playing with him or just watching him run around was the perfect way for Ivy to clear their head following a long day.
As a therapist, nothing like a dog to give you permission to turn your brain off. Dogs are easy. Every bit of kindness you give them comes back tenfold.
A/N: Sorry this one is short but I'm so tired as of writing this.
Promise the next update will be SOOOOO worth it!