Naivety World

The rat tat tat at the window sill was soothing. The vigorous downpour has reduced to a soft drizzle.

She sighed, resting her cheek on the cold window pane wishing she was out there instead. Wanting to be drenched in the cold rain in the hope that it would wipe her slate clean, like it cleansed the rooftops and the roads.

Instead she was in here, within the confines of his office, where she always had her sessions.

She could feel his eyes on her. He always let the silence stretch, until she felt she had to say something. She turned to him. He was sitting where he usually sat, in his deep brown plush chair, slightly reclining, with his note pad on his lap and an impeccable pen dancing between his thumb and index finger. His deep penetrating gaze used to frustrate her. They gave her the impression that he could read her thoughts. Sometimes, she was sure he could. She silently wondered if it was a requirement in his profession – having such piercing eyes.

A distant thunder made her look out the window again, content to have the silence stretch a little longer. The view was better than the one she had from her room.

She had always taken pride in her fully furnished apartment. She could see the city life from there. It always made her feel in charge, just looking out the bay windows.

But that was then. It was different here. The windows were smaller. It was peaceful, calming. The buildings she saw were few and scattered.

A few years ago, being here would’ve been suffocating. But she had no choice. Her parents had forced it on her, practically dragging her and leaving her locked up until reality sank in. She wasn’t going anywhere, until whatever obsession she had was absolved.

She sighed.

“How did I get to this?’’ It was a murmur, but he heard her.

“Get to what?”

“To this!” she turned slightly, indicating the room. With the heavy drapes, the thick carpeting and the upholstered sofas situated on opposite sides of the room, it almost looked like the living room of a nice little house. It was purposely to make his patients feel at home and relaxed so they could feel free to talk. Only the big mahogany office desk betrayed the surrounding. He rarely sat behind it when talking with his patients, with her. She looked back outside taking comfort in the bleakness.

“I had everything. A job…, my house……, a bright future…… I was going to get married. I had it all planed out. How did this happen? How did I become the antagonist in my own story?”

“What makes you think you are the antagonist?”

She answered with a snort. She’d been blinded by hate and jealousy as soon as Maya had stepped into the picture. Her picture. Maya had ruined her plans, stolen the man she loved. Sweet little Maya, with her innocent charm and flare for life. She had stolen her life.

“I don’t know if he ever loved me…” she spoke aloud

“Who?”

“Alfred. I’m not sure love is what he felt to have been so easily swayed by someone else.”

“And did you love Alfred?” he asked

She mulled over the question.

“Our parents were friends. They are not anymore. We always knew we’d get married. That’s how it supposed to start – as friends, right?” she directed the question to him.

“And were you and Alfred friends?”

She had known he wouldn’t answer her question. He never did.

“We used to be best friends” she said in a whisper, “when we were younger.” A shadow of a smile played on her lips as she reminisced.

“We did almost everything together. When we started dating, it was like a dream come true. I knew he was going to be the one.”

The smile vanished just as fast as darker memories invaded her mind.

“He went to Spain for a year. When he came back, it wasn’t the same.”

“What do you think changed?” she looked at him with a glower. Damn psychiatrist and their questions. She didn’t answer but let the silence stretch again. She didn’t want to think about it anymore.

“Why did you try to kill Maya?”

It wasn’t an accusation. His voice was soft, soothing, coaxing emotions she thought were locked away.

For a minute, her breath caught. She didn’t think he’d bring that up. At least not yet. The question dredged up memories she wasn’t prepared to face. She only wanted to scare Maya so she’d leave, then she would have Alfred again. But Alfred didn’t want her. Not even as a friend. Not anymore.

She hadn’t wanted to accept it, but it wasn’t Maya’s fault. It was just easier to blame her than admit she had wasted all those years grooming herself to be Alfred’s wife. It was easier than to face a future without him. All her plans. All her efforts. She choked back a sob, just as the clock chimed.

The session was over. She couldn’t bear to meet his eyes as she half walked half ran out of the room. There would be another session tomorrow. She’d be more composed then.