Caught Up In You (2 page)

“Whatever.”

Wait, what? Did he just say whatever? No.
No, I must have heard him wrong. There is no way Nathan can be standing here
agreeing to this madness. I allow myself to meet his eyes for the first time. To
my surprise he’s looking right back at me. I know right away I’m not imagining
things, he is agreeing.

“Whatever?” Mrs. Turner asks frowning. It’s
clear she was expecting a more excited response from the both of us. In fact,
now she’s looking kind of confused.

Nathan nods then says, “Yeah, whatever. Can
we work the details out later? I really need to get to practice.”

Mrs. Turner nods slowly. I realize that
we’re both watching Nathan as he walks out the room, the same dazed expression
painted on both of our faces.

What the fuck was that?

***

“There is no way in hell I can do it!” I
throw my hands up in the air for what feels like the ten hundredth time since
we left newspaper, then I shoot Angelina a death stare, which I’ve done just as
often in the last hour. We’re done with newspaper now and Angelina’s laying on
my gigantic bed reading the latest issue of People. She’s acting like it’s the
most natural thing in the world for her to be doing right now. Meanwhile, I’m
busy pacing the length of my room freaking the fuck out.

Angelina flips the page of her magazine,
looking un-interested. “I really don’t see what the issue is. I mean, sounds
perfect to me. You get to spend time with him! Now you have an excuse!”

“Wow, you wouldn’t see an issue since
you’re the one who put this whole thing together!”

I must be louder than I realize because
suddenly there’s a harsh knock on my bedroom door. A voice comes pounding
through from the other side. “Everything okay in there?”

Shit, it’s Dominic.

Dominic is this guy who works for my aunt
here at the hotel. He’s perfectly nice and all, he’s just kind of over bearing.
And by over bearing I mean he always seems to have to be around for some reason
or another. My aunt wanted him to change a light in the bathroom, or needed him
to move some boxes into storage, or there was a bad faucet that needs to be
checked, and so on, and so on, and so on. It’s pretty clear that Dominic’s
constant projects have less to do with the attention that the penthouse needs and
more to do with checking up on me. That’s one of the downsides of living on the
top floor of a hotel that your aunt owns, she has about a million employees who
can drop in at any moment to check up on you.

“Everything’s fine!” I call back loudly, trying
to make my voice steady and normal.

There’s a pause from the other side of
the door. “I thought I heard yelling.”

“Just the T.V.!” Angelina chimes in
helpfully.

Dominic stands there for what feels like
forever. Finally, I hear him shuffle off down the hall toward the kitchen.

I let out a tiny sigh of relief then
throw my body down on the bed, shoving my head into my hands. I feel Angelina’s
tiny hand on my shoulder and it reminds me of how I promised myself I wouldn’t
cry anymore. And if I did, it would never be in front of people, I never wanted
to show anyone my weakness again. I push the water forming behind my eyes back
somewhere deep inside of me.

“Look, if you want me to get you out of
it, I will. But just don’t act off of emotion, okay? This could be the only
chance you get to spend time with Nathan for who knows how long. Even if it
isn’t
anything extra, even if it’s just writing a article,
I’d take that time. Even if it’s for no other reason then to get the proper
closer you need. So I’m talking to you as your best friend, as the only one who
really knows the whole truth, at least think about it before you’re so quick to
say no, okay?”

I put my head back down in my hands, not
because I’m scared I’m going to cry again, but because I know Angelina can read
my facial expressions better than anyone. No matter how hard I try to hide it,
she has always been able to read me. It’s been this way for as long as I can remember.

The truth, the real truth, is that I want
more than anything to be around Nathan again, but I know it’s not really a good
option right now. I understand that Angelina’s intentions were pure, but I know
it’s not going to work out, even if a huge part of me does want it to.

There’s another knock on my door and I roll
my eyes at Angelina. “He’s driving me crazy.”

When the door swings open and the hallway
comes into light it’s not Dominic who’s standing there though, it’s my Aunt
Jenna. She’s wearing an all white suit with a red blouse underneath the thick
blazer. The matching red hells that lace her feet are so high that I know I’d
probably break my ankle if I ever tried to wear them. Her make up is flawless
and her perfectly highlighted blonde hair is falling in curls around her face.

“Guess who’s back from the groomers
looking as handsome as ever?” She turns her attention back to the doorway. Moe
sticks his freshly cut black head out from beyond the doorframe. Moe is my aunt’s
puppy, he happens to be absolutely adorable, but he’s also scared of his own
shadow. He’s actually really grown closer to me lately but he still gets scared
when anyone new comes around though, like Angelina.

“It’s okay, come here, come on out,” I
try softly.

Moe shuffles his little body into the doorway
and slowly spins around, showing off how nice he looks. His normally scruffy
fur is nicely trimmed and there’s a little red bandana around his neck. I can
smell his sweet aroma all the way from my bed.

“Very pretty,” Angelina says just above a
whisper.

It’s enough to send Moe flying from the
doorway to under my bed as fast as his little paws can carry him.

My Aunt sighs, “So much for progress.”
Then she smiles and takes a step inside my room. “How was your first day back
at newspaper?”

“Wonderful!” I say.

“Nothing happened!” Angelina says.

My Aunt looks at us strangely for a
second, then just shakes her head and turns her attention back to me. “Almost
ready?”

I nod and she backs her body toward the
door. “I’ll be in the kitchen, come out when you want to get on the road.”

Once she’s gone I focus on Angelina. “Okay,
I’ll think about it. I have bigger problems right now anyway.”

“Like what?”

I bury my face into my pillow and let out
a tiny squeal of frustration. “Like my first appointment with my new
therapist.”

Chapter
Three

I hit the end button on my Iphone and
shove it into my bag a little harder than necessary. I let out a heavy breath
and slide my body down onto the floor. I’m in the bathroom of my new therapists
office trying my best to not freak out. The thing about therapists that’s super
annoying is that you never know what you’re going to get. You never know if
they are going to believe you, or if they’re going to think you’re lying
straight to their face. Which I guess isn’t the worst thing in the world, if they
think your lying, I mean. Most people don’t care what their therapists think
about them.

My case is a little different though. I
mean
,
I actually need my therapist to believe me.
That’s because I’m pretty sure whatever reports this therapist is making will
be sent directly back to the wellness center. Which means one sign of anything
out of the ordinary and they could tell my dad and Missy. Which means right
back to the hell I had already survived once.

I grab my phone and carefully tap in the number
in to the wellness center, crossing my fingers for luck. It’s no use though, the
same secretary that has picked up the last twelve times I’ve called answers. I
hang up right away. If she hadn’t let me talk to Eric any of the other times
I’ve called, she wasn’t going to let me this time either. It just makes
absolutely no sense. They had never been strict about people calling before. It’s
not like they don’t monitor everything that’s being said, and it wasn’t like I
was calling to relay some secret information, I just needed to hear his voice
right now. I just needed to know I had his support. I needed that more than
ever, even if it was from afar.

Eric was the only real friend I had made
in the wellness center, he was also one of the major reasons I had finally made
it out of there. He had coached me early on exactly what to say and how to act.
He had taught me what to show and what not to show my therapists and councilors.
I owed him a lot. I knew that, but it ran deeper. I had become dependant on
him, and that was dangerous. I hadn’t allowed myself to become like that with someone
in a long time. I was with Nathan, but in a different way.

I wasn’t so much as dependent on Nathan
as I was attached to him. Nathan felt like he was apart of my soul, a part of
my being. A part I hadn’t even realized was missing until I found him. And just
as quick as I had that piece back, I had lost it again. I feared I would never
feel complete again.

Thinking about Nathan immediately pushes
my emotions to the edge and I try with all I have to push him from my mind.
Gosh, I needed Eric right now. I close my eyes and try to pretend he’s here
with me. His hands on my shoulders, his masculine voice talking softly but firmly
in my ear.
Remember to show them what they want to hear, always
make eye contact, don’t act scared. Nothing to be scared of, just keep your
emotions in check. Don’t let your voice catch. Be cautious, but not obvious
. I repeat all these things over and over
again in my mind. I’m trying to let these thoughts take over me, trying to
bring myself to a place of calmness.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Someone’s pounding on the bathroom door.
Great.
So much for getting to my calm place.
I pick
myself up off the ground and take a glance at myself in the mirror. I look
terrified, and I know it. I throw some cold water on my face. As soon as I make
eye contact with my reflection again I yank my hair down from the bun it’s in.
I’m hoping it will somehow help hide my suddenly pale expression.

“You can do this,” I tell myself firmly.

Then I head to the door and flip the
light off behind me without a second glace back. The door slams shut behind me
and I realize no ones even waiting for the bathroom. Typical.

I sigh then head back down the hall
toward the waiting room.

 
As soon as I sit down, I feel my aunt’s eyes on me.

“Nervous?” She’s changed from her white
suit into a pair of skinny jeans and an oversized blue sweater. She has the
outfit paired with some long black boots. Her hair and make up are still
perfect. She added a small pair of gold hoops to her ears for good measure. I
wish just once I could look that good without even trying.

“Nervous?” I ask, trying to keep the
shake out of my voice, “Why would I be nervous?”

My aunt picks up a magazine casually off
the table sitting next to her, deciding to play along. “Oh, no reason. I’m just
saying if you were, it would be okay. I mean
,
I know I
would be. It’s always scary trying new things.”

“This isn’t a new thing, I’ve done this
before.”

“Sure,” she says nodding, “but never
here.”

Of course I’m nervous, but no way I want
to tell my Aunt Jenna that. I mean, hasn’t she got enough on her hands without
trying to take care of her crazy niece even more? I already feel bad enough for
all the extra stress I have put on her. I mean
,
she
acts like she’s happy to do it, like it’s no big deal, but still. I get this
weird vibe from her sometimes, like there’s more to the story. Like she almost
wants to say more, but cant. Which makes me more stressed, the last thing I
need from anyone is more secrets. It’s crazy to think there could be even more
things that just can’t seem to be said.

“I’m fine, just fine.” I smile as if to
prove just how true this statement is. My aunts not stupid and I know she’s not
buying it, but she drops it anyway.
      

I glance around the room, taking in the cinerary.
Eric taught me a long time ago that you couldn’t judge any doctor off their
waiting room or surroundings. When I first got to the wellness center I thought
I could manipulate the doctors in some way based on what was around me in their
office, based on what they surround themselves with. I learned quick that most therapists
waiting’s rooms are generic and based off nothing authentic at all. Any
pictures or things they have in their office are placed there for a reason, they
aren’t stupid enough to leave anything out that they don’t want you to see.

Eric even went as far as to tell me that
some of the pictures they put in their offices are fake, not their real
children or family or whatever. Supposedly they do it for security reasons, like
in case anyone cracks up and decides to go after their family or something.
Which is exactly why I would never be a therapist. I mean, I’m sure most people
are perfectly normal, but what about that rare occasion that you get a real
crazy one or something? No, thank you.

Besides, I couldn’t figure out anything
about this therapist from her waiting room, even if I wanted to. The walls are
solid white with a brown trim. There’s no windows or anything, yet somehow the
lights on the ceiling make the room overwhelmingly bright. There are two black
sofas on either side of the room with a simple brown table separating them. No
magazines or anything, just a few pamphlets. There’s also a little stand with the
therapist’s business cards for anyone who wants to take one.

Now that I think about it the room doesn’t
really go together very well. In fact, it doesn’t match at all. I mean, isn’t
it a huge no to mix black and brown together these days? Or is that whole thing
over with? Did it somehow become okay again to mix black and brown together and
I wasn’t notified? Probably happened when I was off serving my time in prison. Well,
it would have been nice if someone told me. I mean, honestly, it would change my
whole outlook on my wardrobe. That would give me way more options. Not that
I’ve took much pride in how I look these days, but whatever.

 
Unless, oh god. Was this some sort of test? Maybe I was
supposed to notice the room didn’t match and mention it right away, maybe it had
a deeper meaning or something. Or was it not a test at all and if I mentioned
it I would look really crazy right away?

See, see how going to a therapist does
nothing but makes you over analyze? It can drive a sane person to go crazy.

The door to the office opens and a small
woman looks down at me from under her glasses. She calls my name and smiles,
revealing red lipstick stained teeth.

My aunt squeezes my leg reassuringly. I
force myself to shoot her a half smile before I get up and follow the secretary
to my fate.

Whatever that is.

***

My new therapist doesn’t get up to great
me when I walk into her office. In fact, she barely acts like she notices me at
all. Instead, she just keeps chatting away on her cell phone, as if nothing has
changed. It’s awkward. There’s a couch and a few chairs lining the room, but
I’m not sure where to sit, or what to do.
 
At the wellness center there was only one couch in Dr. Morgan’s office
so I didn’t really have a choice about where I sat. But to be honest it kind of
made me feel uncomfortable, like I was about to be examined at any moment or
something.

So anyway, I decide to just kind of stand
in the doorway waiting for some type of direction, or for any sign on where I’m
supposed to go or what I’m supposed to do. Only one never comes, instead she
just keeps chatting and laughing away. I’m not sure
who
she’s talking on the phone with, but from the sounds of it it’s her friend or
something. I’m too freaked out and to busy over thinking to pay much attention
but I’m pretty sure I hear her say something about her mother-in-law moving in
with them for a while until she gets back on her feet. And how she doesn’t care
what her husband says there is no way she’s forcing her meat loaf down for
another night, no way in hell. Yikes.

Finally, I get the hint that I’m pretty
much on my own and decide on one of the chairs. I mean, as long as there’s no
direction I might as well do what I want. Hopefully she won’t tell me to move
when she’s finally done having her little best friend chat. I take the time to
study her while I have the chance.

She’s younger than I thought she would
be, almost too young, I’d say in her late twenties. It makes me feel like she
hasn’t been doing this that long. It was my Aunt Jenna who set me up with her.
That was the only good thing about having to continue my therapy once I left
the wellness center, I got to pick my own shrink. She’s very simple. Her hair
is short and brown with no trace of highlights, or color at all, and there’s no
sign of a single wrinkle of blemish on her skin, it’s the kind of face that
looks perfect without a trace of make-up on it. Which explains why she looks
amazing even though all I could see was a trace of bronzer and a little mascara
lining her dark brown eyes.

When she throws her head back laughing I
notice immediately how white her teeth are, just like my Aunt Jenna’s. I
immediately run my tongue over my own self-consisiousely. Jeez, does everyone
have perfect teeth these days?

She’s wearing a white blouse with a simple
black pencil skirt, white ballet flats on her feet. It’s all nothing major, but
somehow it works for her in this perfect way, like she’s effortlessly thrown
together.

Finally, her eyes land on me. She gives
me a half smile as if she’s just now noticing me for the first time since I
walked into her office. She holds her index finger up as if to let me know
she’ll be just another minute. I try to smile at her but I’m pretty sure it
comes out more like a half grimace, so much for not letting how nervous I am
show.

I immediately avert my eyes from hers to
regain my composer, pretending to be impressed by her office. Suddenly, I
notice something kind of strange, something that doesn’t seem right. She has
nothing on her walls, literally nothing. Even the leaders at the wellness
center had decorated the walls in there offices with things. Awards, letters
from people they had helped, plaques, letters of excellence. Even their
volunteer projects or charity work, but she had nothing, not one thing. This
made no sense because I had goggled her and resume was really impressive, she
certainly had all those things so why would she have no acknowledgment of them
in her office?

“Sorry about that!” The sound of her
voice startles me a little bit since I’m so consumed with my own thoughts. But
she’s not paying any attention to me anyway, she seems to be texting someone
now. She sighs aloud then shoves her phone inside of her desk drawer, making
her way over to where I’m sitting in a few easy strides.

“So, Victoria, right?” She picks up the
file that’s sitting on the table next to one of the chairs and starts to glance
through it. She gives off the vibe that she’s just now considering me a real
patient for the first time at that very moment.

I’m not sure how to answer. I mean, of
course I’m Victoria. Who else would I be? Is that a rhetorical question? Or
maybe this is the real test, if there even is a test. Is there a test? Ugh,
this is why I need Eric.

I don’t have to answer though because I
don’t get the chance.

“First of all, call me Lily, last names
are so impersonal, don’t you think?”

I’m hoping that the former will become a
trend and I wont have to answer, but no such luck. She’s looking directly at me
right now waiting for an answer.

“Um, yeah, I guess,” I shrug uncomfortably,
once again averting my eyes from her. This is so not going the way I had hoped.