Ellie's Therapy

I lay on a soft leather couch

at a therapist’s office

as I told Dr. Lisa all about it—all about

why I was the way I am.

The woman had long, red hair

and dark-framed glasses

that magnified her easy green eyes.

She wore a dark skirt

that smoothed below her knees.

Dr. Lisa had me put my shoes

on the tan carpet, as Ellie had me do.

I was like Sixpence, 

none the wiser to kiss her.

I attended six months of sessions, 

breaking cliques of insecurity for sunrays

and days when the Seattle 

thick clouds don’t mean a bad day.

Ellie strung me along 

as though I didn’t know what I knew,

so I played along to drown indecision, 

as though changing her appearance 

could erase her raspy voice 

and empathy for apathy.

It must be lonely caring 

for no one or nothing.

But I cared about Ellie back then, 

just like I do now.

A waterfall flowed on the glass coffee table.

Soft jazz played on her stereo

and her evergreen candle

filled the room with warm pine.

I put my hands behind my head as a pillow,

without a case, but it’s better than

missing what’s wrong with me.

I moved my eyes around the cream walls,

the brown window trim

with light blinds half-open, half-closed,

and the charcoal paintings hung evenly

spaced stared back at me,

as Dr. Lisa noted my thoughts 

to break them down

like a jackhammer separating what matters.

She said it behooved me to,

but how would I be the same

after Ellie’s makeup stained my white pillowcase?

I told Dr. Lisa all about it.

She had nothing much to say.

She listened and said little of anything.

Ellie left nothing to hide from her scent

each night before I washed my bedsheets,

I closed my eyes to imagine her lying next to me.

Ellie breathed softly in my dreams,

but my heart quickened within.

I was younger then,

thirty years younger,

but I’m supposed

to be older by now.

Ellie loved ’80s music.

I didn’t.

And we made it work

I was supposed to have a life by now.

I tried once or twice,

but it blew up in my face.

It always blew back onto me.

Life’s fingers pointed mine back at me.

I had it in me that I’d be over

the taste of Ellie’s lipstick

and rum that saturated her kiss by now.

And for whatever I’ve done,

the forgiveness couldn’t be this expensive.

But it was, and it is,

and I’m the person she sees smile at her

at the grocer or the mall

or some fancy restaurant;

I’m there for the ride

that I couldn’t afford, so I jumped

a freight train to follow Ellie’s footsteps

and forgot why I can’t forget our bodies

connected that hot July northwest night.

Our parents skipped town one weekend

for a mid-life crisis.

I won’t pretend that the sky

has changed since we parted ways

when Ellie moved to New York.

We’d chat on the phone until graduation.

She’d return my call from a payphone,

asking about a guy for advice.

I was glad she couldn’t see my glassy eyes

release a downpour of heartbreak

after God forgot to answer my prayers.

Ellie taught me love,

and I learned to doctor

a broken heart with more

than a bandaid and her hand.

The happiness I searched 

for resided within me.

No one can fill the void, 

but the life void

of fault washes across your heart 

to say screw reality

you’re loved, whether you believe it or not.

Dr. Lisa removed her glasses, 

her wig, and her contacts.

“Ellie?” I said, more surprised 

than she was to see me.

My eyes ballooned. 

I went to stand, 

but Ellie stopped my motion.

“Just listen,” she said, shaking out her hair.

I waved, my face red to rush and flight. “What’s this all about?”

“I run Contemporary Mental Health Care,” Ellie said.

“And?”

“When I heard you were looking for a therapist, I knew it had to be me.” Ellie moved strands of her hair from her face.

“I wasn’t stuck in the past,” I said.

“Could have fooled me,” Ellie said, giving me a tight-lipped stare.

“I measure every woman by you,” I said.

“And they couldn’t live up to young love, could they?” Ellie sat beside me.

“My dad had plans for me.” She sighed.

“Plans that included getting you away from me, right?”

Ellie lowered her chin and nodded. “That’s basically what happened.”

“Over our sessions, I’ve told you all about me,” I said.

“You’re hiding one thing,” Ellie said, moving a tissue across her eyes.

“What’s that?” I said, knowing what she meant.

“That you still...” Ellie choked back a lump in her throat.

“That I’ve never—”

“—stopped—”

“—loving—”

“—you.”

“And me you,” Ellie said, cupping my cheeks to kiss life into us again.

By Andy Cooper

From: United States

Twitter: AC0040