Too Broke For Afterlife

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The coffee is hot and pumping new life intomy veins. With the laptop on my lap I have found comfort on my big lavender sofa, the September sun shines through the windows with as much energy as possible but now back in Queens, this puny attempt is underwhelming to me. 

Fall is approaching and New York is slowly turning into an unfavorable place to be but I couldn't care less. I'm finally back at work. 

I have already filled four entire Google Docs pages with information on NeYonCity - their business idea, employees, annual reports and so on. Anything relevant I'm noting down because in the end I'll need to come up with a winning strategy that will convince the CEOs to sell their startup instead of going the journey to success themselves.

I may not be allowed to enter Green Vision until I've gotten that superfluous evaluation but that doesn't mean that it's time for me to be lazy. 

I don't want to be bored. As long as I've got something to do, I'm golden. 

My phone vibrates, I grab it and unlock the screen. 

A text from Judy. 

'Contract is signed!! B is showing me around now. Wanna go out for dinner later and celebrate? x' 

A smile flashes across my face as I reply with 'definitely :)' and I can already imagine Judy jumping up and down in excitement over her new job. 

Which is the best dinner option? Or should I let her choose? It's a Tuesday so booking a table shouldn't be necessary for most places. 

My phone rips me out of thoughts and I groan when I look at my display

'Unknown Number' 

Again? 

I accept the call, hoping that I might get an answer this time. 

"Hello?" 

On the other end I hear heavy breathing. 

"Hello!?" 

And then, for the first time since this phone terror has started, I hear a voice. 

"Soon." 

The call ends. 

Soon? What is soon? Is this a threat? 

If I at least recognized the voice! 

The doorbell interrupts me and I take a deep breath, already knowing who is waiting on the other side. 

I'll have to  solve this phone mystery later. 

I walk into the hallway and check the small display connected to the security camera. It shows a dark-skinned 30 something year old man wearing glasses and a neat suit. 

One more sigh, then I unlock the door and open it. 

I put on a smile. 

"Hello! You must be..."

"Jeremy Hudson."

He extends his arm and I shake his hand. 

"Your employer asked me to have a few sessions with you to evaluate your current psychological situation."

I step aside.

"Come in. Do you want something to drink?" 

"Water would be nice, thank you."

Without having to ask, he takes off his shoes and steps into my flat. 

I make my way to the kitchen to grab a glass and a bottle of water. 

Once I'm back in the living room, Jeremy is still standing, looking at my picture wall. 

"You have a very nice home, Ms. Green."

"Please, call me Isabella." 

I grab one of the armchairs and pull it to face the other. Then I sit down, hoping he will do the same. 

Jeremy opens the bag he is carrying and pulls out a few papers as well as a notebook. 

"Despite these sessions being held on request of your employer, I can assure you that I will handle all information confidentially. Everything you tell me will stay between us two, I will merely pass on my evaluation stating whether you are able to work or not."

I nod. "That's good to hear. Although the company is almost like a second home to me, I'd like to keep some privacy." 

I chuckle but Jeremy doesn't seem to respond to my joke. 

"What is your relationship with Green Vision like?" 

Oh, going straight in. I see. 

I make myself comfortable in the chair. 

"Well, my father is the founder so it has always been present in my life. I started working there when I was 26, my dad had always talked about me taking the lead one day but that I'd have to work my way up first. And that's what I did, I'm currently the Creative Director and I lead my own team. Some don't seem to take me very seriously but I'm used to that. I always manage to prove them wrong."

Jeremy opens his notebook and takes out a pen. 

Did I say something worth noting down? 

"Why do you think some of your coworkers don't take you seriously?" 

"Well, it's because of me being their boss' daughter. My best guess is that it's easier to be jealous of someone's success instead of using it as motivation, especially when you're part of a group. I'm not necessarily smarter than anyone, I'm simply a hard worker and focus on what's important instead of trying to tear someone else down to make myself look bigger."

"Is that important to you? Being respected and taken seriously?" 

"Yes, very."

"And why do you think that is?" 

All this time Jeremy's eyes have not left my own and now they seem to be piercing themselves into me. 

"I...I don't know. I mean-" 

"What does it make you feel like when someone doesn't respect you the way you think is appropriate?" 

I take a few seconds to think about the question. 

"I don't really know, I guess-" 

"What's it like when I keep interrupting you? How do you feel?" 

I furrow my eyebrows. "It's annoying."

"Annoying? Anything else?" He leans forward a bit. 

"It feels like a personal attack."

"Interesting. What else? Listen to your body. What do you feel?" 

I do as he tells me and put my focus inwards. I can feel how my stomach has pulled together, turning into a knot.

"I feel tense."

He nods. 

"And...like I'm losing control."

"Are you used to being in control? Is that where you feel comfortable?" 

"Yes..."

I look down at my hands and stroke over my pants to fix the wrinkles. 

"Honestly, I always want to have control over everything. At work, at home. I like having...dominance, I guess? Because if I'm in control, I always know what's going to happen."

I look up at Jeremy. He smiles reassuringly. 

"Isabella, I think it's important that you said that out loud. It makes your feelings more tangible, doesn't it?" 

"It does."

Jeremy taps the pen against his bottom lip. Then he tilts his hand. 

"I wonder where that need for control comes from."

I can feel how I'm starting to get impatient. I shift my position. 

"But does that have anything to do with what happened? I thought we're supposed to talk about that?" 

Jeremy doesn't seem shaken by my question. "I don't know that, it might. I think we are exploring something important right now so why don't we stay there for a minute? Do you remember a time where you weren't in control?" 

Okay, he obviously won't budge that easily so I might as well go along. 

"Actually, yes. But this is not really a story I enjoy telling."

The thought alone makes me so uncomfortable that I scold myself right away for even mentioning it. 

"Remember, Isabella. Everything we talk about will stay between us two. I'm here to help so I can assure that I am being 100% objective and not judging you in any way."

I sigh. Now Jeremy knows where to poke for the wound because I lead him there. 

"Honestly, this isn't my first time talking to a therapist. I used to have pretty bad anxiety back in highschool. I got diagnosed with GAD and went to therapy for about two and a half years. Luckily we tackled the problem early so we could reverse most of it somewhat easily."

Jeremy slowly leans back, his calm eyes lying on me. "Do you know what caused you to develop GAD?" 

I nod. "School. I was close to graduating and I wanted to be the best. I wanted to go to a good college. But I couldn't keep up."

"And why was that?" 

"It's such a banal story."

I laugh nervously, trying to lighten up the situation but Jeremy stays focused. 

"Either way, it seems to be an important story. Sometimes the smallest things have the biggest impact."

I wish he wasn't right. 

I wish all of this was as silly as I've always painted it to be. 

I take a deep breath.

"Well, I had fractured my knee during a bike ride. I had to get surgery, nothing major but it kept me away from school, right when things started getting more intense. While my knee was still healing, I suddenly got pneumonia. But during that time, instead of resting, I studied like a lunatic, my friend brought me homework and notes every day and I tried to catch up the best I could but it didn't work. Instead, it slowed my recovery down. And once I was finally back at school, after a good 4 months, it only got worse."

I shake my head over my younger self's stupidity. It's shameful. 

"I studied day and night but no matter what I did, I couldn't keep my previous grades. I barely slept, ate, all I was focused on was school and I started having anxiety attacks until I was both physically and mentally drained."

I fall back into my chair. My shoulders slump. 

All this time Jeremy has been listening intensely, taking some notes in his book. 

"Let me word this theory and you tell me what you think. What you experienced, the stress and helplessness, created insecurities that you fought by focusing on the things you still had control over. You developed a need for having full control over your whole life to make sure something like this wouldn't happen again and even after fighting your anxiety it still persisted because you want to make sure you never have to feel this way again."

He looks at me. I look at him. 

And then it happens. 

I can feel a tear forming in my right eye. I quickly wipe it away. 

"Damn, Jeremy. You're good at this," I huff. 

The man chuckles. "I hope I am, I've been doing this for a few years now."

He takes a sip of his water and I, a deep breath. 

I look up at the digital clock hanging above the door. 

"Oh, would you look at that! Time passes so quickly."

But he just chuckles. 

"We still have fourty minutes left."