With This Heart(8)

But that’s why I was at the life coach; I suppose she might illuminate it all for me.



“ So, Abby, tell me a little bit about yourself,” Dr. Lucas prodded with a gentle smile.

I wanted to be helpful, but nothing really came to mind other than pre-transplant information that I’m sure mom had already filled her in on. My hobby was being sick. My hobby was waiting. Waiting for the beeper to go off. There wasn’t room for anything else.

“ I’m not sure there’s much to tell,” I offered genuinely, no hint of teenage-attitude present.

Dr. Lucas dressed really well: J. Crew pencil skirt and slim-fitting blouse. Her outfit told me I could put my future in her hands. She wouldn’t steer me wrong.

“ I like your outfit,” I offered, because I felt bad about my lack of personal details to divulge.

She laughed shyly and then scanned over my outfit. “Thanks, I like yours too, Abby.”

She was trying to earn my trust and make me feel at ease. I looked down at my clothes. I never strayed from the basics most of the time: Jean cut-offs of various levels of distressing and pretty, summer tops. It was easy and I prided myself on taking 0.5 seconds to get ready in the morning. Brush hair, brush teeth, moisturizer, and hair in a messy bun or side braid— done. Makeup was for the birds (or you know, girls who were actually on guys’ radars).

“ Thanks…” I dragged it out awkwardly, not sure where the counseling session was going to go from there. Were we just going to compliment each other for 60 minutes?

“ Your mother told me you earned your GED a few weeks ago?”

I nodded. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“ Have you put any thought toward applying to college?” She broached the subject lightly, as if she didn’t want to offend me.

Of course I had. Everyone thinks about going to college. I had read enough New Adult Romances to know that the moment I stepped on campus, I would surely be noticed by the mysterious loner jock or hot nerd that didn’t get noticed in high school, or maybe the off-limits TA.

“ Yes. I’ve put some thought into it,” I offered plainly.

“ And?”

“ And that’s all. I’ve thought about it.”

She nodded for what felt like an eternity after that, scanning my face and acting as if she was reading between the lines. Could she discern something in my sage green eyes that had eluded me in the mirror that morning? Maybe my future career path was tattooed around my irises in plain view of everyone but me.

“ Abby, I’m going to have you take a career aptitude assessment. I always give this to individuals like yourself; those who find themselves unsure of what they would enjoy doing in life.” She didn’t wait for my response. She stood to retrieve the test and a pencil from her desk.

I blurted out, “Can anyone be a Life Coach? I’ve never heard of it before.”

She cleared her throat, obviously surprised by my question. I didn’t want to be disrespectful of her in her own office, but it just seemed silly to me in a way. Counseling is counseling and I’m sure people genuinely benefit from it, but life seemed to be quite a strange thing and to think that any of us knows enough to not only coach ourselves in it, but to coach others as well… it just made me think of that quote from Socrates that said: “true wisdom comes to each of us when we realize how little we understand about life, ourselves, and the world around us” or something.

Weren’t we all just faking it anyway?

“ There’s no real regulation of it, but I also have a master’s degree in family counseling and have had twenty years of experience in helping people meet their life goals.”

She had me there. She had twenty years of experience and I had only been alive nineteen years, so surely she knew more about what I should do than I did.





[page]CHAPTER FOUR





I was lying awake that Tuesday night, tossing and turning. Nothing seemed to lull me to sleep. I tried turning on white noise (it was supposed to sound like beluga whales under water, but it skewed more toward creepy and I turned it off), rereading a boring book, and suffocating my face a little bit with a pillow in hopes that I would pass out. I finally caved and texted Beck.



Abby : Are you awake?



I didn’t think to check the time until after I sent the message. It was two-thirty in the morning. Whoops. My phone vibrated in my hand and I thought he had texted back, but when I looked down my eyes practically bulged out of my face. He was calling me, like a real person would do. I played with the idea of ignoring it, but curiosity won out.

“ Hello?” I croaked, apparently my vocal cords weren’t aware that they were still needed for the day.

“ Abby.” I could hear his smile through the phone. I had forgotten the way my name sounded on his lips.

“ Hi,” I chirped for lack of any better conversational skills.

“ Hi.”

“ What are you doing up so late?” I asked.

He cleared his throat and then I heard rustling in the background. Was he on his bed? An image of him in boxers instantly flitted through my mind.

“ Watching The Walking Dead .”

Ten points for Beckindor. I loved that show. “Isn’t it a little late for that?” I asked, trying to sound aloof.