“I was late for my therapy session today. I just didn’t feel like showing up. But mum kept pushing me, saying it would do me some good. And I spent the first twenty minutes staring at the therapist’s office, seeing for the first time the large clock on the wall behind him. Was it an actual clock or just another fancy ornament?

“A gold fish was swimming in a small aquarium close to the window. Hesitating briefly before snipping on some green flowers. Was the flower all the fish needed to survive? Was it a balanced diet? Why couldn’t we be live the gold fish? A simple life with no complications

“He finishes reading my notebook and smiles at me. A polite smile that says I get you. But does he? Does he know I have a little life growing inside me, gnawing at my uterus and making me feel queasy and uncomfortable?

“I stare at his pile of books. Neat and orderly. Crucial Conversations. The Monk who sold his Ferrari. Make Today Count. Ego is my Enemy. Gangster Government. Who will cry when you die?

“Mmmm…maybe I should be a writer. A successful author with connections everywhere, traveling on speaking tours, inspiring young people, giving them hope, a fat bank account in my name…

“He clears his throat and I quickly look at him.

“How are you today? He asks, his pen ready to capture this important moment in my life.

“Does it matter how I feel? Should I tell him how I have been sleepless or how I have not eaten properly or the morning sickness or the loss of interest in everything? That those little pills lost their magic weeks ago? That my step dad was telling my mum to send me away to my aunt? 

“Should I tell him that I want to end this pretty little life growing inside me?

“That I have been saving the little pills so I can use them for a better cause?

“I smile at him and tell him am fine. He looks at the notebook, quite impressed with the hundreds of words I have written. But is he reading between the lines?

“How was church? He asks

“Really? Yes, I attended church yesterday and listened as my step dad preached about letting it go. Starting afresh. Making new amends. Forgiving and forgetting. Walking away.

“So I should just walk away from all this? Do another walk of shame?

“Should I tell him I was mad at God? That church was a sham? Hypocrisy to the hilt? That I had stopped talking to Him, believing in Him? That if He had allowed this to happen to me then…then what? Had he told me to sneak from home to club? Had He instructed me to wear that tiny miniskirt? Or to imbibe in all that alcohol? Or…

“Second chances, huh? Surely my step dad didn’t mean I give this little thing growing inside me another chance?

“How could I live with all those mixed up feelings? How could I look the baby in the eye and tell him I loved him? Cuddle him, stare at him as he takes small bites at my nipple. Change his pampers. Really? How was love even involved here? Give me a break…

“My ex best friend contacted me a few days ago. She wanted to know how I was doing. If I had applied for the varsity government loans. Said she needed help with her application. See, I am the smarter one when it comes to these things. Filing forms. Writing proposals. Research. And now she missed me

“Is this hypocrisy or what? 

“But I guess that’s what some people do. Use others. A friend of mine used to say Use things, love people. But I guess the opposite could be true too: love things, use people. 

“Second chances? How does that work again? I guess I’m getting dumb

“My therapist is kinda frustrated at me today. I’m not playing ball. I’m not listening to him. He has stopped jotting notes. A frown appearing and disappearing as he looks at me. How do I explain the million and one thoughts crisscrossing in my head. The ultimate rush to the finish line as I try to make key decisions.

“Should I tell him am planning to run away from home? But that I have nowhere to go? Maybe he has a spare room at his place. Or he has a nice crib in his rental apartments. Wait, is he even a landlord? He doesn’t look like one

“Would he know anything about adoption?

“Are you married? I blurt

“He closes his notebook and stares at me. I have crossed the line, I guess.

“How would it feel to have him answer my questions though? I have hundreds of them spiraling in my head. How did he end up here? What else could he do if not being a shrink?

“My session is up. He hands me my notebook, a small smile crossing his lips just briefly. I got away with it, I tell myself

“Next session is next Friday, he says, reaching for his water glass.