La Forte, A Chance

Sabrina glanced over her shoulder and watched Oscar tread his way out of the car, dragging his feet as he shuffles towards her. She rolls her eyes, knowing he would make more difficult than it would need to be. He had almost convinced her to avoid it. Almost. But this has to be done. Something needs to change.

Sabrina stopped short of the door, her eyes fixing on the directory posted on the glass. She glanced down at the pamphlet in her hand. Was she ready to take this step? She has to be . What other options were there for them?

"Lexicon Counseling," she whispers. She looks back at the directory, comparing each line for the right suite number indicated on the pamphlet. Where is it? She squints. The rows of suite numbers and company names seem to just blend together. Did she take them to the wrong place? Oscar wouldn't let that go. She would never get him to another. He would find an excuse.

"Here it is."

Sabrina jumps at the sound of Oscars voice. He taps a line on the directory sign and smirks as he makes his way indoor.

"Gotta be faster than that," his voice trails inside.

Sabrina scoffs as she follows him in. This is why we're here. She begins to recall the past several months as they continue down the hallway. Staring at the back of Oscars head, her own filling with a sea of recollection. As they reach the elevator each fight and painful memory starts to visualize itself in front of her eyes. Oscar presses a button the panel. The buzzer rings on the elevator as the doors come to a close.

"We're sorry Sabrina. Unfortunately we have to terminate you. False accusations are just as serious as real ones." What a load of bullshit. There were witnesses. The buzzer rings. The number on the elevator panel lights up. Floor two.

Oscar pushes Sabrina lightly with his hip as if to playfully apologize. A faint smile appears for a moment on Sabrina's face. She wraps her hand around his. He means the world to her. He would never admit the same. A momentary pressure between their clasped hands. That's as much emotional support she'll get from him here.

Even Oscar wouldn't listen to me. I might as well be mute. It took a month for us to finally talk about it. But even then. "You may have just overreacted," Oscar dismisses, "Frank is a decent guy." He acted like he didn't even care. I must be emotional. The buzzer rings. The number on the elevator panel is distractingly brighter. Floor three.

Sabrina looks over at Oscar. Oscar has his other hand in his pocket and seems to be examining the craftsmanship of the grouting in the tile. Doing anything to keep from making eye contact. Naturally. He has never been good at expressing himself, at least to share a feeling. If it's not a joke or a sarcastic remark he's fairly quiet. Being so reserved, Sabrina often felt she had to push him to always do more, be more. Oscar never left his comfort zone. At least they finally reached the boiling point last week.

"You're just a big fucking baby! You always have to be right. You get to be righteous all the time. But yet can't be bothered when it really matters." Through tears, Sabrina slammed the bedroom door.

"God damn you, whore." Oscar scowls at her through the walls. "I've been working nonstop to keep us going while you do nothing but mope around at home in your underwear, barely able to stand upright." He hadn't wrong. Though it's not like he really hated her being half dressed.

The buzzer screaches and Sabrina snaps back to reality as the doors open. Floor four. A moment passes and neither of them exit the elevator.

Oscar looks down at Sabrina, waiting for her to make the first move. He can't risk making a wrong move now. This is her place. Her idea. A beat. She hasn't moved. Is she changing her mind? Maybe he should make a move. Press the ground floor button. Go home. No. She needs this.

Another beat. Counseling, Sabrina's brother had said, would be beneficial for her mental health. And, hopefully save their relationship. Her brother had been her rock. Somehow he was able to convince Oscar into doing this after Sabrina failed numerous times. Why didn't he listen to her? Why was it easier for him to talk to her brother? It didn't make the bright white room that seemingly went on forever with only the slightest of decor seem any less intimidating.

Sabrina let's go of Oscar's hand and exits the elevator. A chair that didn't belong in this decade and a couch straight out of an episode of the Brady Bunch sat opposite each other on the far side of the room. Between them, a door that simple read "Lexicon Counseling Office" with a small handwritten note to take a seat. Oscar and Sabrina approached without a sound and sat on the couch, with but a few inches between them.

No clock, no television, no weird assortment of inspirational posters on the wall. If Oscar didn't know better he would believe they were in a doctor's office. He wondered how long they had sat there, staring blankly around the room at everything he could to avoid her glaze. Oscar was nervous. She knew that. Right? So why would he let her see it. Besides, as far as he cared he wasn't there for him. Just her. She needs to get better. Be better. He can't do everything himself, Oscar tells himself quietly.

Despite what Sabrina may think, Oscar has always been the money maker. The doer. But he stays within his lane. She doesn't understand her place, and is always making him out to be the bad guy. He knows when to take risks and when to not, Sabrina does not. A man of the straight and narrow, and a man of God. He knew this nonsense would pass once she had gotten it out of her system. A counselor would hopefully help her see that.

Oscar raised his arms and stretched, letting out an exaggerated sigh. He lowers his arms, laying a hand on Sabrina's thigh. Sabrina slowly meets his hand with hers and gives it a small squeeze. Oscar smiles at the acknowledgment. At least there's still some attraction, some ounce of allure toward one another there, she still notices and appreciates him. Yet there he is again. Jumping to what he things is happening.

Sabrina slowly massages the edge of Oscar's hand with her thumb, deep in her own collective thinking. The room around her vanishes. There is just her and the single light dangling above her, illuminating a wall of filing cabinets filled to the brink of thoughts, memories, and fears. She sifts through the assortment. She tries to organize her thoughts into what she might say to the therapist. Where to begin?

Oscar begins to fidget in his seat. It feels like they have been still and silent for hours. He tries to fight the urge to break the tension with a joke, he knows this is supposed to be a serious time. Sabrina is impressed he hasn't already done so. But if she were to bet he would last longer - she would lose.

"Oh, I get it, we're supposed to talk it out ourselves." Oscar, with a smile, cautiously throwing a joke at the wall to see what might stick. Sabrina pulls her hand back and rolls her eyes. Expressionless.

"You're the worst. I was enjoying the silence."

"Now my dear Sabrina, is that how you really feel?" Oscar stands and makes his way to the chair across the room. He, proudly, assumes a pose of power and authority in the chair. He brings his hands up as to mimic a pen an pencil.

Sabrina follows his every movement with her eyes, quietly judging, yet curious. Knowing where this was going. He always found ways to simultaneously enrage yet amuse her. It was only a matter of time until he couldn't help himself. Typical.

"How does the silence help you?" Oscar says in his best impression of an educated German.

"You really want to know?" Sabrina raises her brow at the question. She knows it's an act. It's always a facade. Fun and lighthearded - never any depth behind the man's stained-glass blue eyes. Might as well play along.

"It allows me to organize my thoughts," she says, sitting up straight and forming a slow smirk on her face
"Before I talk to someone who knows what they're doing."

Oscar returns with a smirk of his own. He pretends to tap his chin with the tip of his invisible pen.

"Mhm, mhm, and these thoughts - have they been organized? Do you know what to say to 'ze professional?" This is too good. What an opportunity for Sabrina to push the underlying issues. Even if it's a skit.

Sabrina bats her eyes. She pushes her fiery bangs away from her face, stroking her hair to rest it all behind her shoulder. She clasps her hands together. In her best Southern Bell accent, she replies.

"Why yes, Sir. I have, Sir. I'm just a crazy old broad and should just do as the mighty Lord demands me to, and do as my man commands."

"What a breakthrough!" Oscar throws his bullshit pen and notepad across the room, and stands up in feign enthusiasm.

For a moment they share a genuine laugh. Oscar lets his eyes meet hers for the first time in a long time. Soaking himself in the hazel twists and twirls, he lets himself drift away into the gaseous void.

Sabrina's mind is clear for a minute. She misses feeling this way with Oscar. She misses feeling this way at all with anyone. If only this moment could last longer. Two moments. Three. Eternity. A selfish desire that she would never be allowed to have. Not since...no don't think about it. Don't ruin the moment.

The trance doesn't last long. Oscars eyes begin to slide their way to the floor again. Sabrina, still locked into him, can't help but notice. Back to the normal, secluded and distant feelings. But there's a little more, she noted. His eyes don't dart to the floor immediately. It's a slow crawl.

She tries to depict what he sees as his eyes trail downward. What does he notice? My hair? It took me forever this morning to curl. No. My chest? Of course he notices. Besides his feet it's probably the only other thing he ever sees anymore. Does he even notice I cut my hair? I'm wearing his clothes? I've been dieting...no...not dieting, just not eating. Does he know that? Does he care?

She stops herself. What about him? What did she notice. Tall. Blonde. Overweight - not by much. A dad bod. Did he want to be a dad? His beard still isn't growing. He still looks like a high schooler. I wish he still acted like he did then...I'm doing it again. He's still handsome though. I'll never understand why he's always dressed like he's prepared to go to a grand French ball. Sabrina fails to prevent herself from dwelling again. Her mind again returning to break-neck speeds of debating every detail and moment. The silence was gone. Again. It was nice while it lasted.

She hasn't smiled like that in a while. Oscar thinks to himself as he positions himself back in the chair. She looks good with that. Well, she always looks good even in she has poor taste in attire - why are you wearing one of my shirts, unbuttoned over an ugly graphic tea, and a skirt. What's so wrong with wearing one of the dresses I bought you. Oscar took his time comparing the two. He had never thought they would be at a place like this. Why would they need it?

Their life was nearly perfect as far as he was concerned. At least that was until. - Oscar begins to assume the same pose as before, setting up another bad "therapy" session as the elevator buzzes obnoxiously loud. Sabrina leans back on the couch and quickly motions for Oscar to join her again. Too late. The elevator door opens and out steps a woman with unusually circularly framed glasses.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" Says the woman as she ruffles through her purse, barely inching towards them and without so much as a glance in their direction.

"Normally I would be in my office but I was attending this conference and -" the woman's brow raises toward Oscar. Oscar shuffles towards Sabrina, hoping to avoid awkward conversation about how he was able to obtain and utilize invisible writing utensils. Sabrina pinches Oscar in his bum as he stumbles next to her, playfully of course, in an attempt to keep that moment going.

"Now," the woman begins as she slides down onto the chair, "we were supposed to have an hour long session but it appears we've only got," she checks her watch and a page in an unusually neatly organized tabbed notebook, "five minutes until my next appointment."

Sabrina growls, "Seriously?"

Oscar, calmingly patting his girlfriend on her thigh, "That's perfectly fine, we understand. We'll just be on our way."

He could feel Sabrina's glare burning the hair off his neck. Sabrina couldn't believe this. Of course he's ready to dash. He's a pushover. She's ready to fight to stay until she gets the help she - they - needed.

"No it's not "fine", we came here for help and it's not okay to just blow us off - "

"Ma'am," the woman shushes Sabrina, "I understand and completely agree with your feelings. I would be happy to reschedule."

Sabrina looks to Oscar, a look of victory and what he thought was a devilish grin upon her face.

"However -" the woman continued, adjusting her glasses. Sabrina slumped back in the chair. A quick glance at Oscar confirmed, as ever, that he remains fully intent on hightailing it.

"- I can offer you an alternative session method for today. It's an exciting new mobile application from our headquarters they just rolled out today."

The woman pulls out a pamphlet and reaches it across to the couple. Oscar skims the cover, not particularly interested. Sabrina nearly snatched it out of the lady's hand.

"Forte the Game from Lexicon Counseling and TIX Enterprise," Sabrina reads aloud, ensuring Oscar can't escape.

"A video game?" Oscar asks to Sabrina's surprise. Well, not really. It's a game. But any spark of interest will help her here.

"Precisely. Its built from the ground up with couples in mind. Supposedly, and I'm not quite aware of the finer details, the game is designed to pit each partner against one another in a goal to learn more about the other while participating in a one of a kind experience. When the game is complete, the couple should have a new found respect and connection unlike ever before."

"And this helps us how?" Sabrina wondered aloud. Why would a game that forces people to compete be beneficial to a couple who only ever seems to be competing.

"Well," the woman glances at her notebook, skimming her fingers along its lines, "based on my notes from your initial applications, you, Oscar -" the lady looks up at the young man sternly,

" - have a strong desire to lead, yet lack the courage to do so. In addition, the same lack of courage to take any sort of initiative contributes to a veign superiority complex on those you deem lesser than you. Which based on your extreme religious upbringing as noted by Sabrina in her assessment - "

Oscar's eyes meet Sabrina's again. Another moment. Another beat. Sabrina's mind is clear. But this is different. The woman continued.

" - seems to manifest a disregard for women in an inherently, although muted, misogynistic attitude. A combination of which results in a respectable yet utterly boring lifestyle."

Oscar's face might of well have been made of pepperoni. Sabrina had never seen him so red before. She covered her mouth to hide her unbridled joy. With his mouth agape, and a wicked furrowed brow, he snapped back at the woman.

"Now wait that's a lot of assumption from one lousy ten question assessment. What makes you so all mighty that you get to - " the woman raises a finger to Oscar, and without missing a beat further reads from her book of harsh truths.

"Sabrina, on the other hand, is a bit of a wild child. And somewhat of a mystery."

Sabrina beings her knees up onto the couch and to her chest. Watching the woman examine her notebook. She leaves only her eyes visible to Oscar and the woman. Eager, yet fearful, to hear her own brutal emotional summary. Oscar leans back in the couch and makes himself comfortable. He appears, from Sabrina's quick observation, as if he is preparing to watch an exciting new episode of the newest hit reality show.

"Sabrina," the woman taps her notebook, "appears to require absolution and structure just as much as you Oscar. However, where she differs is what seems to be a strong lack of self assurance and in its place, an over abundance of self awareness. Oscar, you indicated that Sabrina often, as you put it, "zones out" and has difficulty returning to the real world."

Sabrina watches as Oscar squirms where he sits. Avoiding eye contact with her again. He... notices that? I didn't think...

"While those are not unusual, and fairly normal for women in their early twenties figuring out their place in the world, the additional notes I have incline me to believe that Sabrina is inflicted with Post Traumatic Stress."

Sabrina's eyes begin to water. She didn't even mention - it - in the application she submitted. Was it that obvious? How does he not see it then? Well she is a professional. Sabrina wipes the faint stain of water off her face. Her peripheral vision captures what almost looks like a lightbulb going off in Oscar's head. And a hint of remorse. With maybe a dash of empathy. Maybe.

"Lastly, these accumulate and appear to manifest themselves in taking abnormally risky behavior, including by Sabrina's own self-admittance, an over indulgence of alcohol and illegal substances."

The woman closes the notebook, sharply, effortlessly. It makes a crisp sound as it folds. Sabrina swears she feels a light breeze brush her cheeks. Oscar shivers at the sensation. There is a new invisible force pushing both of them further into the couch.

"I understand you wanted to come here today for easy answers. But there is no immediate answer for what you," she says firmly to Sabrina, "experienced and how you coped and how you," she says sternly to Oscar, "are unable to assist her and be the man you think you are. It is a slow, and sometimes painful, process to address and deal with trauma and stressful changes in ones habituals. As such, it is in my professional opinion that," the woman leans forward, barely sitting on the edge of her chair and taps onto the Forte pamphlet, "this new technology may be beneficial for both of you."

Sabrina's heart beats. And there is silence. Another moment. Oscar and Sabrina, together holding the pamphlet, lock eyes once again in a silent conversation. Quietly, without words an agreement is made. For Oscar, a chance to prove himself the man he thinks he his. For Sabrina, proof that she can be more than her trauma again.

"So is the app free?" Oscar says to the woman with a new confident grin that Sabrina had never seen before. Sabrina's lips form into a smile. His lips had quivered as he spoke. It's a start, but he won't change overnight. He's still my whimpering Oscar. For now.