Beautiful Rose by Missy Johnson

asked, glancing around.
    “He’s at the gym. He gets free workouts in exchange for running some wrestling classes.”
    “He’s a wrestler?” It didn’t really surprise me, he was built like the Hulk.
    “Was. In high school he was on the state team. He was on track for a scholarship to college until he injured his back pretty bad. But Benj being Benj took it in his stride and moved on to another path. He did some security for some well-known singers, then eventually he wound up at the bar.”
     “From protecting performers to working in a dingy bar. That’s a bit of a step down. “Is that where you met him?” I cringed when I realized how insulting that sounded. Thankfully, Darcy didn’t seem to mind.
    “Yeah. I applied for a job as a waitress, and that’s how we met. He started off just doing the odd shift, but then he and Jack got into performing. He was enjoying the bar more than his other work, so he bit the bullet and quit.” She glanced at her watch. “Ha, it’s almost lunch time already. I have no idea where the morning went.”
    Crap. If I didn’t get moving I’d be late for my appointment. I chugged back the rest of my drink and stood up.
    “Look, I have to go. I have an appointment, but I'll come back later if that's okay?”
    “Of course,” Darcy smiled.
    “Thanks Darcy, for everything,” I said, hugging her. She squeezed me back.
    #
    My parents had paid for ten sessions with Doctor Jensen, which were apparently non-refundable. I say that because I was sure they would've done just that if they had the option. I had talked myself in and out of going about ten times already, but here I was, standing outside his office. What harm could it do to use them up?
    I walked in, shutting the door behind me. I was the first appointment of the day, which suited me because it meant I didn't have to make small talk with other people waiting. I grabbed a magazine and took a seat in one of the armchairs, crossing one leg over the other.
    I'd barely flipped it open when Doctor Jensen appeared and smiled at me. I nodded in response, then stood up and followed him into the room. The couple of sessions I'd had with him had been awkward. It wasn't that he wasn't a nice man—quite the opposite actually. He had a grandfatherly feel about him, his graying hair, and the soft wrinkles around his eyes adding to his age. I just found it hard to open up to people I didn't connect with right away. I didn't like putting myself on the line, which was basically what his sessions forced me to do."
    Rose, how are you today?" He walked around and sank into his office chair whileas I sat down in one of the two chairs that faced the desk. He was soft-spoken, and so calm that part of me just wanted to shake him to get some kind of reaction from him.
    "I'm okay," I said. "How are you?" I added. How are you? Who asks the psychiatrist that? What, were we on a date? Or two friends catching up for coffee?
    He chuckled. "I'm fine, thanks Rose. What do you think we should talk about today?" I sighed. He we go again.
    How would I know what was best to be talking about? He was the doctor. It wasn't my choice to be here. Well it was my choice, but it wasn’t how I wanted to spend my spare time. The sessions may have been paid for, but it was up to me to attend. Nobody was holding a gun to my head. I was there, accepting help of my own free will and I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. I’d never been forthcoming about treatment before because I was adamant that nothing could help me.
    "I hear the Red Sox are a good shot at winning this weekend; maybe we should talk about that?" I suggested, only half joking. I groaned internally. I didn’t even like baseball.
    He let out a loud laugh. "Were not here to talk about sports. We’re to talk about you. I want to start today with something heavy—is that okay with you?" I shrugged.
    Sure, why not? How heavy could it get?
    "How old were you when you first attempted suicide?" Ok a y, that was