Anna was in no mood for therapy today. This morning she woke up in pain. Yesterday was tough. In addition to discovering she left her wallet at home when she attempted to pay for her groceries, she lost one of her favorite earrings and double double–booked two of her customers. By the time she was in for the night and ready for a relaxing evening of TV show binge-watching, her head was pounding. Since her stupid HMO only allowed for 8 eight migraine pills per month, she was always tryingalways tried to stretch the pills out as long as possible. Despite her best efforts, she was usually out of pills by the middle of the month. Often, caffeine, aspirin, and ibuprofen were used throughout the week until the pain became unbearable, and she had to give in and take the pill. It was ridiculous, because if she just took the pill at the beginning stages of the migraine, it usually helped. Every month she ran out of pills, she prayed her concoction would keep her from heading to urgent care or the emergency room with the pain.

What was the point of going there anyway? The fluorescent lights alone would drive her mad.

Last night’s migraine and morphed into a morning of even more pain. Luckily, she only had two haircuts scheduled in the morning, and wasn’t planning on returning to work after her therapy appointment. She managed to get through the cuts while maintaining a loose professional courtesy, and by the time she arrived at Sheila’s office, she was exhausted by the effort of just trying to get through the day.

While sitting in the waiting room, she opened a silver blister packet, popping the last remaining pill onto her tongue and letting it dissolve. It filled her mouth with the acidic false peppermint taste.

When Sheila opened her office door to let her in, Annashe was just opening a can of Mountain Dewsoda.

The satisfying fizzy pop filled the air.

“Tough day?” Sheila asked.

Anna set the drink down on a rainbow coaster and settled onto the couch. “You could say that.”

“What’s going on? You look like you don’t feel so great.”

“I’ve been dealing with a migraine since last night.”

“I’m sorry.” Sheila paused, a silence filling the air while she waited for Anna to

continue.”

“I think I made a mistake inviting Kylie to live with me. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Tell me more about that.” Sheila invited.

Picking at her cuticle, Anna sighed. “Well, it turns out she is pretty messed up. I mean, I know everyone has problems, but I’m not sure I can help her with hers.”

“Why do you think you need to be the one to help her?”

Anna knew this was a good point. She still had a bit of a Savior complex. It often started with her latching on to someone who needed her, her trying very hard to help that person, and eventually facing the realization there was very little she could ultimately do to help them. She took a swing of her Mountain Dew before continuing.

“Isn’t helping others a good thing?” She countered. “I mean, isn’t helping what we are here to do?”

Sheila just looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

Sometimes therapy frustrated Anna. It felt like Sheila already knew the answers to the questions she was asking her. She just wanted to hear Anna say it out loud. She’d been meeting with Sheila on and off for the past few years. Despite her level of comfort here, she still found herself filtering her responses before sharing them. A part of her always wanted to be a model patient by learning from her mistakes and, answering questions with great insight. Yet, she just keptep repeating the same stupid mistakes over and over.

“What are you thinking about?” Sheila asked.

“Henry.” As soon as she said his name, she regretted bringing it up.

“Hmm.,” Sheila nodded as she pushed at the bridge of her oversized glasses. “What about Henry?”

“I wasn’t able to help him,.” Sshe continued after watching Sheila raise her eyebrows. “I mean, I did help him, a bit…but then he left anyway.”

“Ahh. Do you think you are more concerned with helping Kylie, or with the fact she might

leave too?”

Anna stared out the window. She didn’t like the question.