I hated seeing her cry. Knowing it was my fault immediately made me hate myself, not that I didn't already. I needed to hear her voice, know she was really here.
Some part of me registered the fact that I'd sat down, and that I had touched her, if briefly. I had said, "Tell me."
She met my gaze, looking terrified. She closed her eyes firmly, as if she was living a nightmare. Maybe she was.
"I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry," she whispered, looking anywhere but at me. "I thought it would be better that way, you had your...
Four months. Four agonizing months since I had seen her in the park. Four agonizing months of starting to dial her number, and then stopping myself.
I am listening to the middle aged woman complain about her life. She doesn't even need a therapist.
I will the clock to move faster. My office is dark, modern, and devoid of warmth. Ironically, it fits me.
Thankfully, the session is over. I tell Amamda that she's made progress, next week, and it's been a pleasure. Notice the lie. I glance down at the desk calender, and look...
We got to go the hospital. A nice lady wearing white stuff gave us lollipops, and we got to play teaparties. There was another girl there, and she was five. I wanna be five. But I'm turning four in, um, I think mommy said a month? I dunno. But you have to be four before you can be five, I think. Why can't I just skip it?
Anyways, now there is a big girl living in the guest room. She says her name is Kayla. She has shiny goldish hair. Like Jamie's mom, but with brownish stripes in it. It's long. Like if she sits down, she almost sits on it....
Pretoria, South Africa
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