Page 47 of Stay
“You should be.”
For the next hour, we scrimmage. Even though I’m wearing crappy brown rental skates, I can’t think of a time when I’ve had more fun on the ice.
13
CASSIDY
“It’s nice to see you looking so happy. Things must be going well,” Dr. Thompson says with a smile as she continues to study me.
Her thin black framed glasses are perched on the bridge of her nose. Every hair of her blonde, shoulder-length bob is in perfect place. Her beige suit is carefully tailored and form-fitting. A thick strand of creamy pearls clasped around her slender neck completes the picture. She sits back, looking pleased with my progress.
I have to admit, I’m happy with it as well.
Her comment has a small smile blooming across my face. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this good. Even thinking back to before my life imploded, I’m not sure I was happy. I spent my high school years stressed out. There was always another game to excel at. Another test to ace. Scouts sitting in the stands that I needed to perform for like I was a circus act.
There’s no longer the same pressure to succeed.
But it’s more than that. A lot of my happiness has to do with Cole. I can’t believe what an amazing guy he is. It makes me laugh that I’d tried so hard in the beginning to blow him off.
“Tell me what’s been going on to put such a smile on your face.”
I decide to start with a safe topic because I’m unsure what Dr. Thompson will think about me getting involved with someone. The whole no-boys-rule has been chucked out the window.
Even though Cole and I haven’t made anything official, we’ve been spending a lot of time together, and I’ve been known to, occasionally, spend the night at his house. We’re still taking our relationship slow. But it works for me.
For us.
“School is great. I have A’s in all my subjects, and I’m not feeling overloaded by the workload either.” That’s different from last year when I’d been drowning in my classes.
Dr. Thompson smiles before nodding. “I’m not surprised. You’re very bright, Cassidy. I suspect these courses aren’t challenging enough for you.”
I shrug, even though I privately agree with her. I don’t feel especially challenged, but that’s okay. After my disastrous first semester last year, I wasn’t ready to dive headfirst into the deep end of the pool. I’ve been dipping my toe in the shallow end of the baby pool. Now that we’re nearing the end of September and I’m still doing well, I’ve considered speaking with a few of my professors to see if they can make recommendations for second semester.
“And your tutoring is still working out?”
“Yeah, I love it,” I say enthusiastically. “I’ve been able to pick up a few more hours each week. And I have a steady load of students who are requesting to work with me.
She settles back in her chair. “Okay. I’m happy to hear that school and tutoring are going well.” There’s a pause. “What about your anxiety attacks? Have you experienced any since we last met?”
I search my mind even though I know the answer. “No, none.”
It’s a huge relief.
I finally feel like I’m moving forward and making steady progress. The anxiety attacks were so frightening. Debilitating. The fact that I don’t have any idea when one will strike only ramps up my fear. I’m constantly on edge, waiting for something to trigger one.
“Hmmm. That’s interesting. Are you using your breathing techniques when you begin to feel anxious?”
“I do, and it helps calm me down. I’m always careful to stop when I start to feel agitated and mentally self-check. Lately, I’ve been feeling really good.”
Great, even.
I’m not used to feeling like this. As much as I hate to admit it, it feels like I’m waiting for the bottom to fall out. Life seems to be going a little too perfect.
She breaks into my thoughts with another question.
“And you’re continuing to run?”
“Yup. Three times a week.”
