The liquid sputtered loudly as it dripped from the coffee machine at an agonizing rate. I contemplated whether it was even worth the wait as I stared longingly at the liquid. Not like it did much for me these days anyway. Coffee was not the elixir of life people said it was. No, coffee was just coffee. It couldn't solve my problems as much as I wished it would. Of course, I was still addicted to the stuff. Plus, there was something oddly satisfying about the routine each morning as I drank it.
Finally, the drip stopped, and I could pull my mug from under the spout. It was odd, but watching it dribble into my cup had become my daily curiosity. Every morning, I stood at the counter and watched the coffee trickle slowly into the cup, hoping it would magically fill me with something. Only problem, I didn't know what the ‘something'was.
Shuffling over to the couch, I plopped down on the seat, careful not to spill anything. Before, I'd been one of those fancy coffee drinkers taking pleasure in the fancy foam and flavors, but now, I drank it black. Just like my soul.
Sipping the scalding liquid did nothing to warm my insides as I stared out the large window of my high-rise condo. The view from here was the best thing about this place, even if I didn't always appreciate it. My window looked out over the cityscape and there was a dog park below. Often, I would get lost watching the owners and their dogs as they chased balls together. It was a bittersweet thing making me—
Better to not go down that line of thought, I scolded myself.
Today, it was winter and nothing could make it look appealing. The outside was barren, desolate, and dead, accurately reflecting the state of my life. A few remaining leaves scattered across the grass on their journey to find a better resting place. My thoughts should concern me, but these days, they were par for the course. When you lived in a constant state of despair, you got comfortable with the shadows.
The only sound in the room was the sipping of my coffee and the second hand of the clock. If I weren't already depressed, the absence of sound would send me there. According to Robert Blakesly though, "Silence is not the absence of sound, but the absence of self."
So, here in the silence, I was no one.
When I lifted my mug, and nothing poured out, I realized I'd already drunk it all. Shrugging to myself about the empty cup, I got up and shuffled back into the kitchen. Picking up my feet required too much effort, and at home, I had the freedom to be this way. Lethargy was my friend here.
In the safety of my condo, I could wallow alone without having to pretend I was okay. The moment I took a step out of my building, I had to transform into ‘The Loren Carter' the one who had it all together.
Quite frankly, she was fucking exhausting. I exhausted myself. What did that say about me? How people didn't hate me, I wasn't sure. They probably did, but were too polite to say anything.
Two years ago, my life had seemed as perfect as every girl dreamed it could be. Married to my high school sweetheart, successful in our careers, and living the white picket fence dream in the ‘right' neighborhood in Chicago about to start a family. Everything was at our fingertips ready for us to grasp it.
Brian was VP of a successful real estate firm, and, rightfully so, it was stressful. He complained about his job, but I thought it was typical job stress. We'd both been raised to believe if you worked hard, you would be rewarded. Well, that had turned out to be a crock of shit.
What had seemed manageable stress became a ticking time bomb. It was impressive how easily the house of cards collapsed at the first real presence of wind. When true tragedy struck, we discovered what we were really made of, which, unfortunately, wasn't enough to withstand it. My life crumbled, along with my belief things could be better.
The only thing I had now was my job, my practice.
Dressing for the day, I debated if I wanted to go work out this morning. In an attempt to curb my depression, I'd signed up for one of those barre classes. It was something to take my mind off things, but it wasn't as physically exhausting as I'd hoped. Most of the ladies in my class were nice enough, but they were just more people I had to be fake around. At least they didn't know me or my history, offering me a semblance of anonymity.
Smiling was exhausting when all I wanted to do was scream.
Grabbing my bag, I decided today was as good as any to make changes. I was a fucking therapist, I should be able to shake this depression, for crying out loud. But no one ever expected the therapist to be depressed. Jokes on them.
Just because I knew good coping skills didn't mean I was any better at using them. Knowledge, unfortunately, didn't make you immune to pain. In fact, perhaps therapists made the second worst type of client.
Locking the door, I headed down the hall toward the elevator. Being on the eighteenth floor, I was thankful for it. Having to climb that many stairs in heels would be murder on my feet. Bet my ass would look amazing, though, not that anyone saw it these days.
My neighbor in 18D exited his door right as I passed. I could time my mornings by where we were in relation to the elevator and one another. Today, based on my distance, I was running ahead of schedule and would reach it first. Getting there first was one of those minute things I took pleasure in each morning.
Besides, whoever got there first had the prime spot inside to avoid the stinky guy a few floors below. I wouldn't lie, the simple act of winning at something was a huge draw for me too.
My smirk must've been obvious today as I hit the down arrow because I heard him chuckle behind me. It was odd hearing him laugh and the deep rumble it produced took me by surprise. In the year I'd lived here, we'd never spoken actual words with one another, only exchanging the courteous head nod in greeting. Turning, the shock evident on my face, caused him to chuckle even more.
"I know, I know," he started, his voice hitting me even more head-on. "That's not part of our whole repertoire thing we have going on, but your smirk was just too cute and it erupted out of me unconsciously. I promise to swallow my laugh and return back to ignoring you, offering only the occasional nod."
I stared, even more stunned at his words. As I processed them, I wasn't sure how I felt. Taking the opportunity to truly look at him for the first time, I verified his smoky voice accurately reflected his classic rugged looks. His dark blonde hair was lightly tousled, shrouding his pale green eyes, and a light beard covered his face. He was probably a few inches taller than me, around 5'11" or 6 ft to my 5'9" height. The difference was hard to tell in heels. He smelled of clean cotton and soap. It was... nice.
My silent racing companion was dressed well in a navy suit and grey vest that fitted him snugly, emphasizing his build. It had to be tailored due to the exceptional fit emphasizing his body. 18D noticed me assessing him, and smiled wider, enjoying my perusal. He wasn't cocky, despite his handsomeness. In fact, I didn't detect any arrogance. It was more that he was enjoying me observing him.
The ding of the elevator pulled me from my assessment, causing me to jump a little at the sound. My momentary distraction resulted in losing the prime spot in the elevator as he zoomed in when the doors opened. Grumbling under my breath, I stomped in, causing Mr. Sexy Voice to chuckle louder. So glad he was delighted by my annoyance.
"I haven't been purposely ignoring you, you know. It's just, I tend to be oblivious, and besides our morning race to the elevator, I doubt I would've been able to pick you out of a line-up," I grumbled in defiance. He irritated me and I didn't know why.
"Well, let's remedy that, shall we, neighbor?"
He seemed sincere even if he was poking fun at me, so I let go of my annoyance and offered my hand in politeness to shake his proffered one.