Chapter 9
After rebuilding their friendship a few nights ago, Carla had finally agreed to start going to counselling. Lisa had promised to support her through it and with that support, the thought of counselling didnt seem so scary.
As she waited for Lisa, her heart fluttered nervously. Today was about change; it felt monumental. The thought of seeking help for her drinking and her emotions held a spark of hope that had been buried under layers of shame and pain for far too long.
The loud buzz of the door jolted her from her thoughts. Carla’s pulse quickened, and she rose to answer it, smoothing her shirt as she approached the door.
“Hey,” Lisa greeted, her eyes warm and her smile bright, like the short break in their friendship was long forgotten. Dressed in a simple navy jumper and black trousers, she looked relaxed yet alert.
“Hi,” Carla replied, giving a small smile, though she could feel the knot in her stomach tighten. “Thanks for coming with me today.”
“Of course,” Lisa said, stepping inside. She wrapped her arms around Carla in a gentle hug. She whispered softly into carla’s hair “Like i said before, i’m here for you.”
As they broke apart, Carla caught sight of Lisa's face; behind her composed exterior lay shadows of her own. Memories of loss and grief lay under the mask. Somehow, the shared pain somehow solidified their friendship, forming an unspoken pact between them—a promise to be there for each other.
“Shall we get going?” Lisa asked, giving a reassuring nod.
“Yeah, let’s,” Carla replied, her voice trembling slightly.
They stepped out into the crisp morning air, the sky a brilliant blue dotted with fluffy white clouds. The car ride to the counseling center was soothing but charged with unspoken emotions. Radio tunes filled the space, but each beat seemed to highlight the gravity of what lay ahead.
“I didn’t realise how much I had spiraled until you helped me to see it.” Carla broke the silence, hoping to ease her own tension.
“I was just… in a really bad place,” Carla said, her heart lurching as she recalled the night she was arrested and everything that had happened since.
“Sometimes we need a wake-up call,” Lisa said gently, her brow slightly furrowed. “You’re making the right choice today.”
Carla looked out the window, letting her gaze drift. She could feel Lisa’s unwavering support. “It feels so selfish to keep leaning on you.”
“Hey,” Lisa interjected, her tone firm yet tender as they came to a stop at a traffic light. “We all need someone sometimes. I’ve been there.”
Their eyes met briefly, and the shared vulnerability sent a jolt through Carla. She nodded, taking in Lisa’s words, grateful yet apprehensive. “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling the warmth in her chest expand.
When they arrived, a surge of nerves coursed through Carla. “What if I can’t do this?” she breathed out, staring at the building looming ahead.
“Just take it one step at a time,” Lisa encouraged, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Remember, I’m right here with you.”
They walked into the center, and Carla’s heart thudded in her chest. The waiting area was filled with people—each of them identifiable by their own struggles, each story untold, identity masked by a shared purpose.
“Let’s just breathe for a second,” Lisa said softly, taking a deep breath and exhaling, encouraging Carla to mirror her. “In… and out.”
Carla followed suit, though her heart raced. “Okay, I think I’m good now,” she said, swiping her sweaty palms on her leggings as they approached the reception desk.
After checking in, they took a seat in a quieter corner of the waiting room. Carla could feel her palms growing clammy again as she noticed the ticking clock on the wall. “What if they laugh at me?” she muttered, anxiety creeping back.
“I seriously doubt that,” Lisa reassured her, a playful glint in her eye. “I’ve seen and heard more than you can imagine as a detective.”
“True, but I’m just a… knicker factory owner,” Carla murmured, burying herself in self-doubt.
“Who makes fantastic knickers, I might add,” Lisa said, giving her a gentle nudge.
Just then, a staff member stepped into the waiting area, calling Carla’s name. Her heart dropped, surprise tangled with despair.
“Okay, here we go,” Lisa said, standing up beside her. “Do you want me to come in?”
Carla hesitated, glancing back at the door to the counseling room. “I… I think I should do this alone,” she decided, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her resolve.
Lisa studied her for a moment, and then smiled warmly. “I won’t be far. Just down the hallway. You can do this.”
“Right,” Carla nodded, though her hands trembled. “Thank you,” she said genuinely.
After a final, firm squeeze of encouragement, Carla stepped into the room, the door closing softly behind her. The counselor smiled, and as they began to speak, Carla felt herself start to unravel, layer by layer.
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Outside, Lisa paced, her mind running in circles. She waited for what felt like eternity, unsure of how much time was passing inside that room, her heart heavy. What if Carla was struggling more than she let on? The lump of helplessness in her throat made it hard to breathe.
When the door opened finally, Carla emerged, her face a mix of determination and vulnerability.
“How did it go?” Lisa asked, moving closer but keeping some space, sensing the weight of what had just transpired.
“I cried a lot,” Carla admitted, her eyes shimmering. “But it felt good to let it out.”
“That’s a good thing,” Lisa said, her voice gentle but excited. “You took the first step.”
“I think I’m scared of what it means to really face myself,” Carla said, her voice dropping. “Each time I thought about drinking, it was like I was running from… from my own life.”
“Carla,” Lisa said, her voice steady, “facing life can be daunting. But you’re not alone in this. I’m right here.”
“Why are you being so great to me?” Carla asked, her brow furrowing slightly.
“Because you deserve it,” Lisa replied honestly. “You’ve supported me in ways you don’t even know.”
There was a pause, tension dancing in the air around them. Carla felt warmth bloom in her chest, grateful for the depth of their friendship, yet also aware of the stirrings of something more complicated, something that had been simmering beneath the surface.
“Are you sure it’s okay to… lean on you?” Carla’s voice cracked, the admission hanging heavy. She felt vulnerable but liberated, tension releasing ever so slightly.
“Always,” Lisa said, her gaze unwavering. “But don’t forget that you’re strong, Carla. Lean on yourself too.”
“Yeah,” Carla said, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly. “I wish I could be as strong as you.”
“Strength comes in many forms, but believe me, i am not as strong as you think.” Lisa reassured her, the weight of her own grief evident in the shadow of her eyes, even as she offered support. “We’re a team, right?”
“Right,” Carla affirmed, and in that moment, their friendship solidified further, a bond stitched together by vulnerability and support despite the shadows of their pasts.
“Do you want a coffee? Maybe we can grab ourselves a cake from Roy’s?” Lisa suggested, her playful tone bringing a little lightness to the moment.
“Oh yes, I’m definitely treating myself,” Carla said, her smile widening. “After all that crying, a custard slice feels like a necessity.”
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After grabbing their coffees and cakes, they settled into a cozy corner of the café, bustling with laughter and chatter.
“You know,” Lisa began, taking a sip and watching Carla over the rim of her cup, “we’ve both been through our share of trauma. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we found each other.”
“You’re right,” Carla replied, feeling a lightness in her heart. “It’s like fate or something. We’re both kind of perfect messes.”
“Yeah,” Lisa chuckled, her eyes sparkling, the moment temporarily lifting the heaviness around them. “But we’ve got each other. That’s what matters.”
“Agreed,” Carla said, her heart swelling with affection. “Lisa…… I really appreciate you.”
“And i appreciate you,” Lisa said, her voice softening. “And, you know, if you ever feel like you need space or extra support, just tell me.”
“Okay, but what if I just want to borrow your strength sometimes?” Carla jested, her eyes playful.
“Borrow away,” Lisa replied, laughter brightening her face. “Just bring it back in one piece, alright?”
As Carla gazed into Lisa’s eyes, a flicker of something—was it attraction?—passed between them, once again igniting uncertainty within her. She quickly looked away, feeling the heat creep into her cheeks. Damn it, she mused internally, why does she have to be so wonderfully supportive?