Comfort and Safety

Paige

I folded my legs underneath me on Lauren’s bright blue couch and scratched Francis’s head. It felt like I hadn’t been here in a month, but I’d only missed one session.

“So, London?” Lauren said.

“And Paris,” I replied. “For a night.”

She hummed. “How was it?”

“It was—” The answer caught in my throat, too bulky to possibly escape. One word, a sentence, a whole therapy session couldn’t sum up how it had been. It had been everything and nothing at all. My whole world was different, and I didn’t know if anything had changed.

“Fair enough.” She smiled. “Let’s start smaller. You saw McKenna, right?”

“I did.” I sank my fingers deeper into Francis’s fur. “And she seemed good. I mean, not good. She looked like someone had run her through a woodchipper. But”—I shook my head—“she seemed good with everything?”

Lauren frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Like, she wouldn’t stop talking about it.” I shrugged. “And always with the same excitement she had when saying hi or talking about her family.