Oh Regina, what are you up to now?
“Welcome. You are aware that this is your first therapy session, so feel free to ask any questions.” Regina sat with a nervous smile on the couch. She chose Dr. Mary Cervello based on her online picture, and before the doctor spoke, Regina felt scared that maybe she had made the wrong decision to set up the appointment. But Regina was glad that, like her picture that showed friendly eyes framed in red octagon glasses, an easygoing smile, and greying red hair, the doctor had a soothing, friendly voice as well, making her feel immediately comfortable. Regina was counting on Dr. Cervello to get her better, and if she did not feel comfortable, it would have been difficult for her to meet with the doctor. “I am recording this session, so please state your name.” “My name is Regina Albright.” “Tell me about yourself.” “I was an ER nurse, but a shooting accident at the hospital gave me so much trauma I couldn’t step foot inside the building. So I became a home-care nurse for Mrs. Benne
After her class, Regina headed to the market to get ingredients for a pasta recipe she was cooking. Her schoolmates invited her to have dinner, but after the incident back home, she seldom spent time out after dark, afraid that in this new city, something bad might happen to her again. At her new apartment, she opened the windows to the cool dry summer breeze and played the album she brought from an outdoor stall. She had purchased the record player earlier during the week and was happy it worked. Regina had the AC turned on during the hottest part of the day, but she wanted to hear the sounds of Paris at night. Under the moonlight, she began writing the letters she would send home. She would send each of her family members a letter for them to understand why she was in France. It was a tedious task, repeating the same reason four times and writing them by hand. It made Regina wish there was a way to write it faster, but using the computer felt impersonal. She owed her family a hear
“What makes you happy, Regina?” It was the fourth session with Dr. Cervello, and Regina was getting annoyed that she kept asking her the same question. ‘It will make me happy if you start with the hypnotherapy so I can forget the stupid shit I want to forget about and get on with my life.’“You’re just staring at me again, Regina. Give me those words you have in your head. Tell me what you feel.”“Going to class makes me happy. Sunday market, pasta, buttery croissants, latte, creamy cheesecake.”The doctor smirked. “You’re just mouthing off food again.”“I love food. It makes me happy,” she said with a smug look.“Tell me about your art. What have you been doing?” Regina tried asking the doctor why they never got started on the hypnotherapy nicely, and she countered by asking Regina about her romantic relationships. She did not want to talk about her love life, but something about the doctor’s kind, grandmotherly eyes made her spill everything.Then, Regina tried bullying the doctor,
It’s been two months since Regina left, and Owen had never felt more lost in his life. “Mom, are you there? Can you hear me?” He said as he sat on the chair beside his mother's bed. The TV was on, but he didn’t know if she was watching or not. “Sometimes I just wish you wouldn’t disappear all the time.” He kneeled at her bedside and laid his head near her hand. “I need you right now, Mom. I wish you could hear me.” Before his mother got sick, they would often have heart-to-heart talks, where he told her how he felt and what bothered him while she imparted knowledge and love. Owen sighed heavily. ‘What’s the use of being here when I can’t talk to you? I should leave before I wake you up.’ He wiped his tears with the back of his hand and was about to stand up when his mom’s hand shot out to grab his arm. “Owie, what is wrong? Who made you cry?” It was the nickname they used when Myles and Yvan were born. None of them could say Owen, calling him Owie instead. “Oh, Mom,” Owen brok
“Good morning, Regina.” “Good morning, Doctor.” “How are you doing today?” “Fine, I guess.” “You seem bothered. What’s going on?” “Well, today is our last session, but I still haven’t experienced what I came here for. It seems like I’ve wasted my time answering all your questions about my family, work, and life here in France, but nothing else.” “What did you come here for?” “Well, I came here so you can help me forget.” The doctor raised her brow. “Tell me, what do you want to forget?” “I wanted to forget about the accident.” “What accident are you talking about?” “Doctor, are we going to do this again?” Regina asked with an irritated tone in her voice. “Well, I am your psychiatrist, and it is my job to ask questions. So, what accident did you want to forget?” “I keep on telling you, it’s the…” Regina knitted her brows. “At the hospital, there was a shooting…” she looked at the doctor. The doctor raised both brows, urging her to continue. “But… I’m not afraid of that a
That night, our family headed home only after the other guests had all gone home. My parents wanted to show our support to Mrs. Bennet and their family, and though my two older brothers left earlier, Raffy and I stayed with our parents. I wanted to show Owen I was there for him, even though he did not know I was alive. In my haste to leave, I forgot the black elbow-length gloves I wore as part of my outfit. I had a black conservative knee-length short-sleeve dress with a funeral hat and veil to appear sophisticated. At sixteen, I wanted to be viewed as a young woman and not as a kid anymore, but being an adult was such hard work. I took the gloves off as it was getting hot, and my hands were getting clammy since I was not used to wearing such things. I found them on the seat where I left them, and I was thankful because my mother would have scolded me for losing something she lent me. Just when I was about to head out, I heard someone moaning. I froze, scared it was Uncle Richard
Every Wednesday and Sunday was market day in the city of Carbon, the pasta capital of France. During market day, farmers near the city, with artisans, bakers, and artists, bring their produce and wares to the market square to sell.Tourists flock around the stalls snapping pictures and buying souvenirs, but to the locals, it was a way of life. It is where they get their fresh and organic groceries.Until recently, Regina had only passed by the market. She was living alone, and buying produce usually meant they were spoiled even before she could consume them.Regina was not an excellent cook, so thinking of a recipe took forever. If she dropped by the market, she bought bread, cheese, and pastries, things that were ready to eat and easy to prepare.But today would be different, as she was shopping with the ladies from the nursing home. A few able-bodied individuals would come to the market so they could plan their meals, and the excitement of the people around the square rubbed off on
Dear Owen, I’m sending this letter to you three months after the first time I received the treatment to erase my unhappy memories. By this time, the letters I’ve sent to your mother might have lessened or stopped completely because I predict I won’t be able to recall any of the events that happened during the time I’ve worked for your family. I’m doing this because I want to forget all the bad things that happened last year. I know it is but a fraction of what we shared, but it made a big impact in my life and I want to forget it ever happened. I’m not talking about my abduction because I remember none of it, but I’m speaking about my lost baby. Yes, I was pregnant, and the appendectomy I had was for another type of surgery. It’s another discussion for later if I ever remember about it. When I learned I was pregnant, I wished it was our baby, but I could not face the fact that something happened during the days I was missing, and it might not be yours. I wanted us to have a futu