R. Griffin - Seamless

“You don’t pay me the big bucks for nothing,” he said and hung up.

She remotely linked to her firm’s server. She’d heard back from Christine and the press conference was set up for the next day; she’d be handling a statement from a Senator that was alleged to have had an affair with a minor. Fucking awesome. This was the part of her job that she actually liked, using the law to create an argument that suited her; developing something unique out of the law and making it personal enough that the judge would rule in her client’s favor. She pulled up her brief, turned her music up and started building her argument.

After a few hours of researching and writing, Stella took a few minutes to check her personal email and saw over a hundred notifications of new tweets. Reluctantly, she logged into Twitter and saw it all over her page.

#stellamurphydeaththreat

#testimonyspursdeaththreatsforfbibeauty

#norestforthewearystellamurphy

#somebodykillthatbitchalready

It’s all starting again. She inhaled sharply and emailed Greg; she wasn’t capable of going through this again. His response was immediate.

We’re handling it. I’ve put out a statement that you’re working with authorities and I emailed you a statement so that you can put on Twitter and Facebook if you wish. Stay low and let me handle rest.

She slammed one of the desk drawers closed, then made her way out of her office and down the hall. This was the last thing she wanted to be doing right now, but she’d rescheduled three times already. Fuck. She tried to slow her thinking. She waved at Brenda and made her way onto the elevator, where she tapped her red five-inch heel to the beat of the particularly horrible Backstreet Boys song that was playing. Anything to get her mind off her appointment.

She didn’t even know where to start today or what issue was most important. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how fucked up she really was at the moment. Opening the door to the psychiatrist’s office, she immediately felt unwanted tears threatening the backs of her eyes. She closed her eyes and counted until she reached thirteen and the tension faded. Then she walked up to the window and smiled her perfected fake smile. She didn’t care what George said, it was just the right mixture of lips and teeth to make people believe she was okay.

Signing her name to the pad, she said, “Hi.”

Beth, the receptionist, smiled back at her. “Hi, Stella. Go on back; Denise is ready for you.”

“Thanks.” Stella opened the door and walked back to what she’d come to think of as her room, because Denise always had Stella’s session in the same room. Stella walked over to the loveseat and pulled her shoes off before folding her legs underneath her body.

“Hey, Stella. Glad you could make it.” Denise’s smile immediately put Stella at ease as usual.

Stella found Denise oddly comforting—her face was wrinkle free and warm, a direct contradiction to her stark white hair, and she almost always had vibrantly colored glasses (today they were red) balanced on the bridge of her nose. Stella half-expected, when she began her visits, that Denise was a strange hippie shrink she could never trust, but it turned out that Denise’s no-nonsense demeanor and non-threatening appearance were the perfect fit for her.

Stella only shrugged in response. She’d put off this session for three weeks after she got home from the trial. With the bomb threat and work, she just hadn’t wanted to deal with her feelings or the lack thereof. Ever since she realized Jamie was crazier than she thought, she’d tried to stamp out any shred of fear in her body; her walls went up and she was a walking zombie with good fake smiles. Talking about everything was only going to bring it back.

Denise sat down in her chair and took a long sip of her tea. “So, how have you been doing?”

“The trial went okay.” Stella chewed her fingernail for a few seconds. “I mean, it was definitely harder than I thought it was going to be and I had nightmares and threw up before, but I did okay. He was convicted. He got 120 years.”

“Well, that must take a burden off you now that it’s done,” Denise prodded.

“Sure, one of the dozen boulders weighing me down right now is gone,” Stella agreed easily. “Eleven to go.”

Denise put down her mug and smiled. “Stella, let’s talk about these other boulders. I know this trial was weighing on you and you now have a new threat.”

Stella raised her eyebrows at Denise.

“What? I watch the news.” Denise shrugged. “Now what are the eleven other boulders?”

“Look, I need more medication for sleeping. The dreams,” Stella interrupted. She shook her head. “They’re so real and painful.”

“Okay, we can get you a new prescription for something to help you sleep better, Stella.”

“Okay.” Stella noticed she was leaning forward on the loveseat where she was sitting.

“Why are the dreams getting worse?” Denise asked.

“I don’t know.” Stella looked out the window. “I don’t know if they’re worse. They’re scary and have started to include George. I don’t know if they’re really worse or different or I’ve just been having them for so long they’re starting to wear on me.”

“That’s understandable.” Denise nodded. “How do you feel right now?”

“Anxious,” she admitted.

“Why?”

Stella laughed. “You just want one reason?”

“Yes, just one.”

“I have a big brief I’m working on and I need to be at work,” Stella snapped.

“Stella, I understand you’re busy, but you must know that your work and life overall will be better once you’ve worked out all of your...issues,” Denise said gently.

“I have no faith that my issues will ever be worked out,” Stella replied, thinking about the note on the clementines.

“Okay, so let’s start somewhere else. How are you and George doing?”

“Good,” Stella answered. They were good. “He knows me better than I know myself.”

Denise smiled warmly. “That’s a good thing to find in a mate.”

Stella grimaced at the term. “Mate?”

“Sure. You’re here because he asked you to come or he would leave. So you wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t your mate or potential mate.”

Stella stared at her.

“Someone you want to stay with,” Denise nudged. “Forever.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Stella refuted, not ready to allow herself to think about future, forever, whatever. That wasn’t something in her scope of reality right now.

“Stella, the information you share in here is only to let you begin to explore where you are in your life. You’re obviously in love with George. Why can’t you admit that George is someone you want to be with for the long term?”

“Because I don’t have a long term,” she stated matter-of-factly, without thinking.

This was the first time Stella had seen any reaction by Denise. Her eyes went wide for a millisecond and then back to her normal inquisitive expression.

“What do you mean when you say you ‘don’t have a long term’?”

Stella looked out the window for a second. “I mean it like I said it. I can’t live long term anymore. Any time I let myself think that way, even for a fucking second, some insane shit happens. My fiancé dies, I almost die, a car bomb is planted in my car, which was stolen months ago…never mind the fucking media circus. I don’t have the emotional capability to believe in forever.” That felt…freeing to say .