Ross loathed the hallway leading to Dr. Crowe's office. Each step felt like that of a condemned man on his way to the gallows. On this day it was worse. Ross made the trek accompanied by a cacophony of voices.
That's just great...The idiots are crazier than usual...
Ross stopped in the doorway. The cause of the raucous sat directly opposite, a new girl. A long platinum haired, deeply tanned, violet-blue eyed beauty who had the men in his therapy group vying for her attention, the previously desired women fighting for their property and the rest shooting hateful stares.
Ross uttered a sotto voce curse and looked for an available seat. He found a corner chair and once ensconced he shot surreptitious glances at the new girl.With each, he saw her either uncrossing and recrossing her legs, shifting her weight from one hip to the other or pulling her short, skintight dress down. All of which made her ample chest bounce.
Why are you here?…A smile here, a bounce there and every door opens…
Ross rebuked the girl after the session and was thrilled that it left her speechless.
******
One Year Later
Ross startled at the sound of his name. He stood and angrily tossed his newspaper aside. He was about to chastise his disruptive interloper, a conservatively dressed brunette, when he noticed her violet-blue eyes.
"I'm so glad to see you," she gushed.
“I couldn't care less.” Ross interjected before he stormed off.
The following day's therapy session started with an announcement. “Kari Swenson, a former member of this group, was killed yesterday by a hit and run driver." After a pause, Dr. Crowe added, "We'll have a short meeting at the cemetery after her funeral...That way I can be available to those who need me and I can give my mandatory clients a session credit."
******
Ross feigned illness the day of the funeral. He employed this ruse so he could stand apart from everyone, in a place he could avoid grief filled interactions and where he could endure the goings on, mostly out of earshot of any sobs or wailing, and kill the time until his hated meeting.
After the service, an elderly woman--one of the few females present-- cleared her throat and said in a shaky voice, “I am Helga...Kari's grandmother.”
“Kari had been a wild child," Helga continued. "But over the past year, she'd cleaned up her act…She wanted to thank the boy who caused her change and then ask him out."
Helga's revelation infuriated Ross.
Dammit...All of the idiots are going to claim he's the one...
Ross's anger was so consuming, he didn't notice Helga's approach.
"Hi...,"
"Dammit, don't...,"
"Sorry...You're...,"
"No...It...,"
"I'm not mistaken...You're...,"
"Dammit lady...It isn't me...I couldn't stand her."
"Shame on you...I don't know why Kari even tried," Helga huffed. "She was right...The damage to your psyche occurred long before the burn marks on your face and hands."
That's just great...The idiots are crazier than usual...
Ross stopped in the doorway. The cause of the raucous sat directly opposite, a new girl. A long platinum haired, deeply tanned, violet-blue eyed beauty who had the men in his therapy group vying for her attention, the previously desired women fighting for their property and the rest shooting hateful stares.
Ross uttered a sotto voce curse and looked for an available seat. He found a corner chair and once ensconced he shot surreptitious glances at the new girl.With each, he saw her either uncrossing and recrossing her legs, shifting her weight from one hip to the other or pulling her short, skintight dress down. All of which made her ample chest bounce.
Why are you here?…A smile here, a bounce there and every door opens…
Ross rebuked the girl after the session and was thrilled that it left her speechless.
******
One Year Later
Ross startled at the sound of his name. He stood and angrily tossed his newspaper aside. He was about to chastise his disruptive interloper, a conservatively dressed brunette, when he noticed her violet-blue eyes.
"I'm so glad to see you," she gushed.
“I couldn't care less.” Ross interjected before he stormed off.
The following day's therapy session started with an announcement. “Kari Swenson, a former member of this group, was killed yesterday by a hit and run driver." After a pause, Dr. Crowe added, "We'll have a short meeting at the cemetery after her funeral...That way I can be available to those who need me and I can give my mandatory clients a session credit."
******
Ross feigned illness the day of the funeral. He employed this ruse so he could stand apart from everyone, in a place he could avoid grief filled interactions and where he could endure the goings on, mostly out of earshot of any sobs or wailing, and kill the time until his hated meeting.
After the service, an elderly woman--one of the few females present-- cleared her throat and said in a shaky voice, “I am Helga...Kari's grandmother.”
“Kari had been a wild child," Helga continued. "But over the past year, she'd cleaned up her act…She wanted to thank the boy who caused her change and then ask him out."
Helga's revelation infuriated Ross.
Dammit...All of the idiots are going to claim he's the one...
Ross's anger was so consuming, he didn't notice Helga's approach.
"Hi...,"
"Dammit, don't...,"
"Sorry...You're...,"
"No...It...,"
"I'm not mistaken...You're...,"
"Dammit lady...It isn't me...I couldn't stand her."
"Shame on you...I don't know why Kari even tried," Helga huffed. "She was right...The damage to your psyche occurred long before the burn marks on your face and hands."
