Page 28 of Just My Puck
After the exercises, the session comes to an end, and we say goodbye. I must say, this first therapy session was a great start. Dr. Stuart is understanding and calm, which I appreciate, and his advice was sound. I’m already feeling better about seeing him every day this week.
Ready to start my homework for the day, I grab my phone from my pocket and text Caleb.
Aria
Permission to do laundry?
My phone lights up with his call, and I sigh, picking up. “Hey, I didn’t want to bother you.”
“You’re not. But why are you asking me if you can do laundry? You know you’re welcome to use anything in the house.”
“I meantyourlaundry,” I say, my cheeks burning.
“Oh, um, I have a cleaning lady. She’ll be stopping by tomorrow, actually. Can I ask where this came from?”
“It’s for my therapy. The doctor suggested I do everyday, routine activities to get my brain back in motion, or something like that. Cleaning, laundry, and other household tasks would be on the list.”
“Um, sure, yeah. Help yourself to laundry and anything else. How was therapy?”
“Great. I really like Dr. Stuart.” I breathe in the brisk air. “He’s going to help me make progress, I can feel it. He did give me quite a bit of homework, though, so I’m going to start as soon as I get home.”
Caleb chuckles. “Wow, you’re on fire. Glad to hear that. Feel free to do anything around the house that might help.”
After watching some videos on how to do laundry—who knew it was so complicated?—I wash a load, then dust and sweep the entire lower floor and first floor. I want to keep at it and do the remaining floors, but I’m exhausted, and my migraine is making an encore appearance. So, I grab the journal and pen Dr. Stuart gave me,then lie on my bed to write down what I did today and the emotions I felt.
I didn’t think I’d have too much to say, but turns out, I ping-ponged between a myriad of emotions since this morning. I also really like the way the pen feels on the paper. It’s surprisingly soothing and freeing to unload it all on the page. The pen does scratch through the paper sometimes, which is frustrating, but I’ll ask Caleb if he has other pens I can try. I need one that glides better, with a more solid grip. This one feels a bit too loose in my hand. Still, writing seems to have helped with the migraine.
As I’m finishing my paragraph, I hear the front door opening, so I head back downstairs.
“Hey, you’re back,” I say when I spot Caleb in the living room. “How was your day?”
“Good. Practice stung at first, but it all fell into place. You?” His eyes widen as he glances around. “Whoa, this place looks spotless. Thank you for doing all that.”
“It’s the least I can do. Besides, I have to stay busy.”
“Did it help at all?”
I sigh, leaning against the handrail. “Yeah. It was good to focus on something outside of myself for a second, get out of my own head. And I’m now pretty sure I wasn’t a cleaning lady in my other life, or an exercise fanatic. I’m exhausted.” I chuckle, stretching my arms over my head.
“Well, I guess Janine won’t have much to do tomorrow.”
“Actually, I was thinking, maybe you could give her a few vacation days? The therapist said I have to do routine activities every day, and I only did the basement and the main floor today.”
He crosses his arms against his chest, his biceps bulging under his sweatshirt. “You’re not my cleaning lady, you know.”
“I know, but maybe we could try that, just for this week?”
He cocks his head to the side, then eventually nods. “Fine. I’ll give Janine some paid time off. I know she’d appreciate the chance to go visit her kids.”
“Great.” I clasp my hands. “I’m going to start on dinner, and then—”
“Hold on,” he says, raising his hands. “You’re making dinner now? Didn’t you just say you were exhausted? Let me cook. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried my mom’s lasagna recipe.”
My stomach gurgles at the thought. All this cleaning really worked up my appetite. “Lasagna does sound good. But I found this recipe online that’s been calling my name.”
“All right,” he says, dropping his arms. “Can I at least help?”
“No, no. You go rest, play—whatever you usually do. I’ll take care of this,” I say with a lot more confidence than I actually have. But it should be easy enough, right? I just have to follow the recipe.
