With This Heart(10)
“ My mom has me going to some career counselor tomorrow,” I began, hoping the situation would make her laugh, “but I’ll stop by after that and if you’re out by Wednesday, let’s get coffee somewhere. We’ve never done that before. Y’know, just sitting somewhere and chatting about real-life guys… not just movie stars.”
I could hear her smile through the phone when she replied, “We’d have to actually meet them before we did that.”
“ I’m working on it…” I murmured.
“ Alright, I’ll see you then.”
“ Bye, Caroline.”
…
Precisely thirty minutes before my counseling session, Mom picked me up in her fancy silver SUV. I slid onto the cool cream leather, and she gave me one of her isn’t-life-grand smiles. My dad made enough at his job so that we never had to worry about medical bills, which in turn allowed my mom to devote every ounce of her spare time in the past nineteen years to making sure I was happy and healthy.
“ Mom, thanks for picking me up and coming with me today.”
A smile spread across her face and I knew it was the right thing to say. Sometimes I got so lost in the cynical side of life that remembering to feel extremely freaking lucky about certain things just slipped through the cracks.
Oh yeah, I should apologize in advance. If you’re reading this because you thought I was inherently selfless, you might want to turn back now. Most of my worldly knowledge comes from quotes from famous books, minimally acclaimed documentaries, and Reddit.
We drove downtown to a shiny new medical complex. I’d never been to any sort of counseling, but I’d looked Dr. Lucas up last night and she seemed to know her stuff. The little plaque beneath her office read: “Dr. Patricia Lucas: Life Coach, Career Counselor”.
I was still mulling over that bit of information when we strolled into the waiting room. Above the shiny granite check-in desk, there was a massive stenciled quote: “ Clear your mind of can’t ”. I tried to do just that, but nothing really happened. I shifted in my Keds awkwardly before taking a seat. I wasn’t quite sure what it really meant, because it wasn’t as if I had a dream to be an astronaut and I was sitting around thinking: “Now, Abby, you know you have to have perfect vision for that job and you only have 20/50…so you CAN’T be an astronaut”. Having a career goal in life would have been a luxury for me. Every time I tried to think about the future, I felt an overwhelming pressure in my chest. How could I make a career decision when there were so many people depending on me to do something noble with my second chance at life?
But that’s why I was at the life coach; I suppose she might illuminate it all for me.
“ So, Abby, tell me a little bit about yourself,” Dr. Lucas prodded with a gentle smile.
I wanted to be helpful, but nothing really came to mind other than pre-transplant information that I’m sure mom had already filled her in on. My hobby was being sick. My hobby was waiting. Waiting for the beeper to go off. There wasn’t room for anything else.
“ I’m not sure there’s much to tell,” I offered genuinely, no hint of teenage-attitude present.
Dr. Lucas dressed really well: J. Crew pencil skirt and slim-fitting blouse. Her outfit told me I could put my future in her hands. She wouldn’t steer me wrong.
“ I like your outfit,” I offered, because I felt bad about my lack of personal details to divulge.
She laughed shyly and then scanned over my outfit. “Thanks, I like yours too, Abby.”
She was trying to earn my trust and make me feel at ease. I looked down at my clothes. I never strayed from the basics most of the time: Jean cut-offs of various levels of distressing and pretty, summer tops. It was easy and I prided myself on taking 0.5 seconds to get ready in the morning. Brush hair, brush teeth, moisturizer, and hair in a messy bun or side braid— done. Makeup was for the birds (or you know, girls who were actually on guys’ radars).
“ Thanks…” I dragged it out awkwardly, not sure where the counseling session was going to go from there. Were we just going to compliment each other for 60 minutes?