“Hello, Daisy,” the receptionist says when I enter. “I’m glad you’re here today.”
I give her a weak smile, sign in, and sit in the half-full waiting room. Trying to dispel the silly idea that everyone is staring at me, I get up and search through the magazine rack for something to use to hide my face. I think I catch sight of Daltrey’s eyes peeking out at me from one of the tabloid glossies. Looking at that would not be a good idea right now, so I grab a home decor magazine and settle down to wait.
“Daisy?”
I look up and the receptionist is smiling at me.
She gestures at the door. “Come on back.”
I ignore the glares of all those who have clearly been waiting for longer than I have and slip into Dr. Jacobs’s office.
“Hello, Daisy. It’s good to see you.” She smiles.
I feel marginally more at ease. I connected with Dr. Jacobs pretty early on when I moved out here, and she’s been a big help to me. I don’t think I would be in college without her—for better or worse. “Thanks,” I mumble, taking my seat in the comfortable armchair opposite her.
She watches me, waiting, I know, for me to look up and make eye contact. The eye contact thing is big for her, and she’s always bugging me to work on it. “You’ll feel more confident when you act more confident,” she says. Yeah, right.
Still, I raise my head and meet her eyes. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”
“No problem. You can always stop in, Daisy, you know that.”
I return my attention to my sleeves, knowing she won’t hassle me about it anymore this session. She lets me do whatever I need to feel comfortable enough to talk to her. It’s one of the reasons I like her so much.
When I first met her at the Horizons Recovery Center, I was having a hard time talking to any of the doctors. Group therapy was a nightmare—ten sets of eyes staring as people waited for me to talk. Dr. Jacobs had seen right away how counterproductive that setting was for me and worked to get me excused from the sessions until I felt more comfortable. I owe her for that, big time.
“So,” she says, after we’ve sat in silence for a few moments, “what brings you in today?”
I sigh. “I’ve been having an… interesting week.”
“How so?”
“I… met someone. A girl. In one of my classes. She invited me to have lunch with her and a friend.”
“Did you go?”
I nod, and I can hear her almost inaudible intake of breath. She’s surprised. I don’t blame her.
“That’s wonderful, Daisy. I’m proud of you.”
I snort. “You know, when you say stuff like that, it just shows me how fucked up I am. You’re proud of me for going to lunch with a couple of girls in my class. Think about how pathetic that sounds.”
“Who cares how it sounds? You and I both know what you’ve been through. No one else is entitled to judge your experience or your journey.” She pauses. “The truth is, Daisy, having a positive interaction with a peer is a big deal for you. And the fact that you willingly extended that meeting to a lunch is a great step. Now, tell me, how did you feel?”
“How do you think? I was awkward and weird, and they were probably super relieved when I left.”
“That may be the case, and, if so, you can’t control their reactions. But that doesn’t take away from the step you took.”
I burrow slightly farther into my hoodie. “The weird thing is that they didn’t act relieved. At least, Paige didn’t. She’s the girl I met in class. Turns out she’s in my lit class too. She was waiting for me there today.”
I look up in time to see Dr. Jacobs’s eyebrows rise slightly. “Really? Did you speak with her again?”
I tell her all about it, how Paige was so nice and how they even invited me to road trip with them this summer. I pause, not knowing how to bring up the real crux of the issue. “But here’s the thing; this wasn’t just a random meeting.”
“What do you mean?”
“She started talking to me in class because she saw me with a magazine… with a picture of Daltrey.”
“Ah. She’s a fan, I take it?”
“Yes. That’s what the road trip is all about. They’re following the tour on the east coast. And they want me to come with them.”
“And how do you feel about that idea?”
I laugh bitterly. “Obviously, it isn’t going to happen. How could I go? I’d have to see them.”
“And that would be a bad thing?”
I gape at her. “Come on. You can’t expect me to actually see those guys.”