Blue

Read these first: Red Orange Yellow Green

Six months after the funeral

The blue couch sinks under my weight as I adjust my body again, trying to find some sort of comfort. The woman, unfortunately, focuses on watering her jungle of succulents rather than on me. Otherwise, I could blame my growing anxiety on the weight of her stare and not on what she just asked me.

"What happened on the day your sister committed suicide?"

Dr. Ria Stanton is quite blunt, something I normally appreciate and find helpful in dealing with my feelings of losing Andrea. But while I have been open about a lot in the last three months, my body suddenly wants to run whenever we tip toe nearby this line I've drawn, blocking me from reliving that day.

"Gabriel, I am going to be blunt now."

"You weren't before?" I nervously laugh.

"Not about this."

Stanton puts down her watering jug and turns to me. "I get it. Something like this can be nearly impossible to talk about. But you have to get it out somehow." She passes me a dark colored journal with a pen. "Even if you aren't ready to talk or write about that day just yet, this will still be good for you."

With clammy hands, I take and flip through the book, pages empty and waiting.

"I know, probably not the manliest color, but that's beside the point."

"It's fine, it's...she was wearing this color," my voice cracks, "that day."

An eerie silence fills the space. "I could give you a different--"

"Don't." The word comes across sharply. "I'm sorry, Dr. Stanton. It's just...I never told anyone that." Stanton silently places a supportive hand on my shoulder.

Even though it's not much, voicing that small detail feels like a start.

Yeah, maybe someday.

Word Count: 295 words

***

Dear reader,

Before you assume that I am about to go on some big spiel about therapy, be assured I'm not. Therapy is an option, but ultimately that's your decision.

Someone explained therapy to me like this - you are talking to someone who is not a friend and family member about anything. A purging without bias.

Now this doesn't mean you can't talk to your friends and family about your problems. In fact, I encourage it (which sounds kind of funny from someone who struggles with doing it, but I am slowly learning).

If you haven't figured it out, I have grappled back and forth on going to therapy and ultimately, I don't know if I ever will. Maybe someday.

Now something you may have noticed is that I didn't mention the color of the journal Gabriel received in the story, but I'm sure if you've been following the story, you might be able to figure it out. Comment below if you do.