Avery Goes to Therapy. Again.

Following a thirty minute one-man pep rally, I finally forced myself to get out of bed for the first time in two days. My body ached. It was no wonder I didn’t have bedsores. After a long sigh, I made my way toward the window and opened the curtains. With a grimace, I squinted as light poured into the room. Who knew that two days of complete darkness could turn someone into a vampire?

The cats—I assume encouraged by the presence of sunlight—came running into the bedroom. Their familiar, desperate meows indicated that it was feeding time. After filling their bowls, I turned on my cell phone. There were 12 new voicemail messages and 20 texts. Most were of the expected variety.

“We haven’t heard from you, Avery. Is everything okay? Your Dad and I are very worried.”

“Avery, I’m sorry about what happened. I wish things were better for you. By the way, would you mind taking my shift at the hospital tonight?”

“Avery, it’s Jasper. Are you dead? If so I need to know, because you still have that “Waiting to Exhale” soundtrack you stole from me in 1998. I want it back after probate.”

I quickly dressed and made my way down to the street. The sun felt good on my skin. It was one of those perfect spring mornings when the weather is nice and warm, but the cool lake breeze prevents you from overheating.

I slowly made my way toward the Gold Coast, stopping only at Dunkin’ Donuts for an iced coffee. As I walked up Michigan Avenue, I noticed an abundance of tourists. They were out in full force. They all looked so happy, sauntering down the street with their “Chicago” tee-shirts and “White Sox” baseball caps.

A particularly large woman sat in Water Tower Park snacking on a large bag of Garrett’s Popcorn. She looked so content. Was she here visiting relatives? No. Maybe she was in town with the hopes of visiting the “Oprah Winfrey Show” on a day when La Winfrey dispensed her favorite things. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t help but envy her pleasurable mood.

When I arrived at the good doctor’s, I announced myself to the doorman who told me to go right up. I was so not in the mood for this. I’d been rehashing the events between Jack and I over and over in my head since he unexpectedly (and permanently) left the apartment too days ago. I really didn’t want to be forced to verbalize it.

“Hello, Avery.” Dr. Drexel Carrington said with a smile, as he opened his door. “Come on in.”

I blushed. In all my sorrow, I’d forgotten just how hot the good doctor was. Maybe I was in the mood for this therapy session. I did, after all, have a lot on my mind.