Chapter 8 Unfold
Early morning in the morning the next day. Megan enters the room and sits on the comfortable plaid couch in the middle. An older woman with blonde hair is waving her to sit down as she pulls a notebook from her desk.
"Good morning, Megan. Sorry you had to attend our first meeting this early morning." The women say, getting up from her office desk to sit in the chair next to the patient couch.
"No, Traffic." Megan moved around on the couch, her fingers nervously tracing the intricate pattern of the upholstery. The room had a gentle, calming light that spilled from a soft-shaded lamp on the side table. The air held a faint scent of lavender, adding to the aura of tranquility.
"I am Doctor Amelia Stanton, and it is a pleasure to meet you for the first time Megan. And please, you can call me Amelia, Amy, or Miss Stanton. Whatever makes you comfortable."
"Can I call you doc?"
"Like bugs bunny."
"Sure."
"I'm perfectly fine with that, so just to start, I want you to know this a safe space, and everything talked about in here is confidential, and my goal is to at first give you a place of support and guidance.
"Okay," Megan says, looking around the room.
"So, tell me, Megan, what is on your mind?"
"A lot is on my mind."
"My notes your parents are divorced. Do you want to start there, or would you want to start with your injury?"
"I don't know."
"You can take your time; you originally were from California, right? Then you moved out here to Georgia. What inspired the move over to the East Coast."
"My dad got a new job in Georgia; He is a contractor."
"What was like it like originally moving over here to Georgia."
"At first frustrating, outside of my family. Feeling like I had no one besides my parents, but then I meant them."
"Them?"
"Keisha and... Craig."
"Hmmm." Doctor Stanton says while writing in her notebook. "Tell me about your first meeting with Craig and Keisha."
"Oh boy, well, it all started at the bus stop for school. Keisha just started a conversation with me, and I never meant anyone my age who acted so friendly to me. We bonded over our love for Kobe Bryant, and she even wanted to shoot the ball with me at the local basketball court by our houses. My basketball, of course, was completely airless. It popped during the move. So we went to Keisha's house; she would let me have her basketball."
"How generous of her."
"Yeah, then I met her mother and Craig."
"There is an inflection in your voice when you say the name Craig."
"Ah."
"Is he someone special outside of a friend?"
"He...I don't even know how to explain him."
"What was your first meeting like with Craig."
"Right, Well, Keisha can be loud sometimes and was napping after school in his room. He came out of the room wondering what the commotion was about, then he stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me."
"He stared at you?"
"Yeah, he..this is weird."
"Did he like you?"
"Yes, it's weird to say it, but yeah, he was extremely smitten with me,"
"Why is that weird?"
"Because I am not what you would describe as beautiful."
"I mean, I would kill to have those legs."
"Th... Thank you."
"No problem. So how did this make you feel?"
"Honestly." Megan leans over to the couch. "I was flattered and excited. No one has ever looked at me in that way in my life at that point. There was something pure about it; to everyone in my life, I was always the tall, skinny white girl who liked to play basketball. My mom treated me like an ugly duckling and talked to her friends behind my back about how I was such a tomboy. Nothing like she was when she was little."
"Did Craig ever act on this crush of his, did you?"
"Well, he did. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me outside of my father at that time. On my first Valentine's Day in Georgia, I'm outside, covered in sweat, playing basketball with Keisha. Well, I say playing with her, she was more of like a coach running drills for me. Then he walked over to me wearing what I assumed was the best shirt, pants, and shoes combo he could muster. Keisha brought it to my attention as we walked over to him.
He walked over to me, standing on the grass and sand that met the asphalts I was standing on. He handed me an envelope with a card and a box of my favorite candy. The envelope smelled of this scent that I can't quite place, but I smell it every now, bringing me back to that moment."
"So, this was a happy moment for you?" Stanton said with her gaze deeply into Megan's story.
"It started that way, and I was pleased so. I even hugged him. He squeezed me tight and told me Happy Valentine's Day. Keisha was talking in the background, but I couldn't hear her. I was looking deeply into Craig's eyes."
"Was there a growing attraction to him?"
"Yes."
"What happened next?"
I returned home and placed my Valentine's Day gifts on the ottoman in the living room. My mother walks in to greet me. Her face had a look of disgust on it.
"Why was she disgusted?"
"She was a fan of me playing basketball, sweating constantly. And, of course, sitting on her brand-new couch covered in sweat."
"I see; please go on."
I quickly hopped off the couch and asked her a question to change the mood. "Hey, Mom, is Dad still at work."
"Yes, he is, but he should come home any minute now." Her eyes look over to the ottoman with curiosity.
"A Valentine's card and candy. Really that's surprising..." She says in astonishment, and jabs like this just broke my confidence and..."
"Craig, Keisha's little brother, gave it to me. He is so cute, Mom; I think he might." She shakes her head at me.
"That is about as disgusting as you come into my house plopping your sweaty body on my new couch. Craig is like, what, five-year-old? I better not see you hanging around him, Megan. Or there will be no more basketball from you—especially that camp you want to go to in the summer. Go wash off before dinner, and I don't get why you would want to go out there, play and get all sweaty. She continues laying into me. "God, I hope you're not; Ugh, just go, Megan." She says to me, walking into the living room.
"Oh, my god. I'm sorry that happened to you."
"I don't know why I cried. Truthfully, I should be used to my mother's words at this point in my life. I take my shower, crying as the water hits my head. After the shower, I go to my room and get dressed for dinner. My father knocks on my door.
"Megan. Honey, are you okay?" It was my father.
"Yes, I'm okay," I said, fighting back tears.
"Your voice, are you crying, honey." What's wrong? He says, walking into my room and hugging me.
"What happened?"
"Nothing. I just saw something bad on TV." I lied to him; I didn't want to cause drama between my parents anymore. It would end in shouting and awkward silence until my father apologized, even if he were right.
"Did your parents fight often?" Doctor Stanton pressed while leaning back in her chair.
"They did; it's no wonder they got a divorce."
"Couples can argue; it's a natural part of a relationship. How they handle and resolve their conflict can lead to divorce. I'm guessing that conflict led to the decision being made, but we will discuss that later when you are more comfortable; please continue, Megan.
"Okay, well, he got me got a gift for you. It was an NCAA grade Basketball.
"I got this for you, Honeybun. Because I know you're going to be a future basketball star."
"Thank you, daddy. " I said to give him a deep hug.
"Come on, let's eat dinner." I put my new ball down and walked out towards the kitchen. I looked in the living room for my Valentine's gift. It was gone. A part of me knew it would go in the trash when I walked into the kitchen. There it was, covered in grease. Whatever was in the envelope was surely unreadable. The candy bag opened and almost individually spread in the trash.
"Jesus, why do you think she?"
"I don't know. To prove a point, to make sure I did what she said to do. I don't know. "
I sat at the table; I could feel her eyes looking at me. Daring me to say something, I was mad but dared not cross her. The next day, Keisha and I were outside shooting my new basketball around after school. I saw Craig walking up towards us in the corner of my eye. His smile was so wide, all his bright white teeth beaming in the sun. I had to make a choice; I had no individual autonomy. He liked me, but my mother disapproved of it. I couldn't risk not having a chance to play basketball. And she was right. It was weird, inappropriate, and disgusting, and he was five or six years younger than me. I needed to stop it, and I don't know, make him hate me.
"Sup, Bro. " Keisha says.
