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“Alison?”
A door opened, and a woman with straight blonde hair stood in the entry.
Ali stopped rubbing her arm. “Ali,” she said, standing. “You can call me Ali.”
“I’m Linda. Come in.”
Stepping into Linda’s office, Ali took in the clean, calm space. In the back of her mind, she worried she might find a plethora of signs from Home Goods littering the walls. Relief hit Ali when she didn’t see any signs that said anything along the lines of “Eat. Pray. Love.”
“You look a lot like your mother,” Linda said as she motioned Ali to sit on the cream-colored couch. “We met a few years back. At the hospital gala.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”
“If I remember correctly, you had just gotten engaged.”
“Yeah, well… ” Ali held up her left hand, showing her bare ring finger. “It’s been a while.”
Linda tilted her head. “Is that what brings you here? John just gave me a heads up you were coming. He didn’t say why. And I’ll tell you that everything here stays here. This is a safe zone. Nothing will leave the room.”
Ali nodded, clasping her hands in her lap. “No, I’m not here because of him. A lot has happened since then.” Her eyes drifted over to the white orchid that sat on Linda’s desk, identical to the one Cornell had bought her and later over-watered. She smiled. “I have a boyfriend. Not a fiancé. His name is Cornell.” Ali wasn’t sure why she was telling Linda that. “We live together. And work together.”
“You’ve got a pretty nice smile on your face,” Linda said, “so I’m having trouble imagining he’s the reason you’re here.”
“He’s not,” Ali responded immediately.
Linda sat back on her chair. “Is there a particular reason?”
“Well, my mother kind of made me. I guess you know she can be pretty demanding.”
“Is there a reason why she thought it might be good for you and me to meet?” Linda politely prodded.
Ali shrugged. “More like a series of unfortunate events,” she muttered with a heavy sigh.
I’d like to go back to the part where I forgot about it all.
“I had a car accident. A kind of bad one.”
Linda looked sympathetic. “I’m sorry. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Ali said. From the accident at least.
“Are you having issues that stem from that?” Linda asked, reaching for a notepad. “Concerns about driving again?”
“I’m not here because of the car accident,” Ali said, playing with the hem of her shirt. “I’m not afraid to drive.”
Linda waited for Ali to continue.
She pursed her lips, shifting her mouth from side to side. “I’m here because something happened before the accident.” Her stomach began to turn. “Something happened, and it’s kind of like if I think about it, I’m, I don’t know… ”
Ali’s arm began to throb so much that when she looked down she expected to find the bruise still there, still fresh and angry. But her olive-toned skin was just the same as before—unmarked—as if nothing ever happened. So why does it still hurt so much?
“Reliving it,” Ali spat out. “It feels like I’m reliving it. I don’t really know how to explain it better than that. I need to do something because it’s… paralyzing.”
“There’s a word for that, you know.”
“What’s that?”
Linda placed the notepad in her lap and rested her hands on it. “Trauma.”
