JOSEPHINE

Dr. Bradford took a slow sip from his cup, letting the warmth linger in his hands. The sunlight filtered softly through the window, illuminating the room with a gentle glow. I could hear the faint ticking of a clock in the background, each tick amplifying my anxiety. "I had to admit, I was caught off guard by Mr. Marini's call yesterday, especially after the conversation we had the day before. I wasn't certain if rescheduling our appointment was wise," Dr. Bradford continued, his voice steady. "Why did you choose not to come yesterday?"

I stopped chewing my lip, feeling a rush of frustration that made my stomach churn. "I don't know." The words felt inadequate, like I was trying to fit an ocean of feelings into a tiny bottle. Dr. Bradford's gaze remained encouraging, but I felt trapped in my silence.

"You seem tense," he noted gently. I snorted, the contempt bubbling up inside me like a shaken soda can. "Can you tell me why you feel angry?" he probed.

"I'm not angry," I shot back, my voice laced with irritation, as if saying it louder would make it true. Dr. Bradford nodded, unfazed, allowing a silence to settle between us. It was oddly comforting at first, but as the moments dragged on, the weight of it became unbearable. I resolved to remain quiet, but after three long minutes, I relented, my thoughts swirling chaotically. "What would I even be angry about?" The silence felt maddening. "I hate it when you do this!"

"What am I doing?"

I shifted in my seat, the upholstery creaking slightly beneath me. "This silence! How can you stand it?"

He smiled softly, as if he were sharing a secret. "It's like a ringing phone. You feel compelled to answer it until it stops, and then the urge fades. Sometimes, silence can nurture growth in ways words cannot."

Psychologists were peculiar, I thought, but who was I to judge? I glanced around the room, taking in the framed certificates on the walls, the neatly stacked books on the shelves. "It's nothing. I'm just-oh, this sounds ridiculous." Dr. Bradford gestured for me to continue, and I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the cup against my palm. "I messed up. I really messed up, and no one is angry or disappointed with me! But they should be! I destroyed their property and then tried to run away. But nothing I do seems to matter."

A brief silence fell again, but this time, I sensed Dr. Bradford carefully choosing his words. "Does it make you angry because it feels like they don't care?"

Surprise washed over me, like a light breaking through a cloudy sky. Something clicked. "But that's absurd!"

"Feelings often defy logic," he replied gently, his eyes steady on mine. "It's okay to feel that way. Have I ever told you about the poem my husband wrote in college?"

I shook my head, skepticism creeping in. "No. What's it about?"

"It's about how we sometimes push people away out of fear or pain, even when we crave connection. It explores why we hide our emotions to shield ourselves from hurt, yet sharing feelings can help us heal and strengthen our bonds. Ultimately, it suggests that breaking down our walls allows us to use the power of community to grow together." He smiled, his passion evident, and I found myself leaning forward slightly, curious. "He had literature as a minor in college."

"I didn't know that," I said, genuinely intrigued. "Can you still recite it?"

"In shadows deep, we build our walls, Afraid of whispers, of silent calls. We wear our pain like armor, tight, Pushing away the warmth of light.

With every word we don't reveal, We mask the wounds that need to heal. The fear of judgment, the weight of shame, We think it's safer to play the game.

But hearts, like rivers, long to flow, To share the burden, to let love grow. When we retreat, we lose the thread, Of laughter shared and tears unshed.

For in the openness, we find our grace, In vulnerability, a sacred space. To let them in is to share the load, A journey traveled, a lighter road.

So when the urge to push arises, Remember the light in shared disguises. For every heart that dares to show, Is a bridge to love that helps us grow.

Let's break the silence, let voices soar, In unity, we heal-together, restore. For in the bonds of trust, we see, That we're stronger together, you and me."

I stared at him, speechless, the words resonating deep within me, unraveling some of the knots I had felt for so long. "That's truly beautiful."

"It is. But let's return to you. I couldn't help but notice a certain tension between you and Mr. Marini in the waiting area. That surprises me, considering you just said no one was angry at you."

"Oh, that." The mention of Riccardo sent a jolt through me. We hadn't exchanged a word since our argument yesterday. Our already fragile relationship had hit a new low, and I couldn't deny it any longer. In our quiet home, only Matteo seemed aware of the strain, having witnessed it firsthand.Dr. Bradford's observation hung in the air, a soft weight pressing down. I shifted in my seat, grappling with the right words, but they felt tangled and elusive. "Riccardo and I... it's complicated," I finally confessed, my voice trembling slightly. "We had a fight yesterday-if you can even call it that-and since then, we haven't spoken."

Dr. Bradford nodded, encouraging me to go on, his gaze steady and supportive. "What was the fight about?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. "It was over something stupid-at least, I thought it was stupid. But it hit a nerve for both of us. What started as a minor disagreement turned into a shouting match, and now- I don't know how to fix it."

"Do you want to fix it?" he asked softly.

I hesitated, the question lingering like a weight in my chest. "Of course I do! But I'm scared to reach out. What if he doesn't even want to talk to me?" My frustration spilled over; I felt trapped in this endless cycle of conflict, a loop of hurt and silence and the worst part: I didn't know how to get out.

"That fear of rejection can be paralyzing," Dr. Bradford said, his voice calm yet firm. "But instead of focusing on who should reach out, consider what's truly important: the relationship itself."

I bit my lip, the thought settling uncomfortably in my mind. "I just don't want to be the only one trying."

"Relationships often require one person to take that first step," he replied. "And being vulnerable is a sign of strength, not weakness."

His words hung in the air, igniting a flicker of hope within me, mingled with anxiety. "But what if he doesn't feel the same way? What if I just make things worse?"

"Then at least you'll know," Dr. Bradford said. "Avoiding the conversation only prolongs the tension. You can't control how he'll react, but you can control your actions."

I nodded slowly, contemplating his advice. The thought of reaching out felt daunting, like standing at the edge of a cliff. But maybe-just maybe-it was worth a shot. "I'm scared."

Dr. Bradford nodded thoughtfully, then glanced at the clock, the soft ticking echoing in the quiet room. "We still have some time. How about we bring Mr. Marini in and take that first step together? Of course, only if he's willing." I paused, considering it. It was a good idea; after all, Dr. Bradford was practically a professional in these matters. Maybe this protected space could provide the right atmosphere. When I nodded, he stood up, left the room, and I could hear quiet voices outside. The anticipation built within me like a pressure cooker, ready to burst.

When he returned, I was surprised to see Riccardo with him. His presence filled the room, the air thick with unspoken tension.Riccardo looked confused as he caught sight of me on the windowsill. I quickly stood and moved to one of the chairs as Dr. Bradford pulled one for himself. "Please, sit down. Is it okay if I call you Riccardo, or would you prefer Mr. Marini?"

Riccardo took a seat, his posture rigid and defensive, a fortress of walls around him. "Riccardo is fine. So, what do you want to talk about?"

"It's about your argument with Josephine yesterday." The tension in Riccardo's posture intensified, and he shot me a glare filled with unspoken words, a storm brewing behind his eyes. Dr. Bradford chose to overlook it, his calm demeanor unwavering. "Since Josephine has been struggling with the tension between you, I suggested we discuss it together. Can you share your perspective, Riccardo?"

Riccardo looked at me, a mix of anger and vulnerability in his gaze, and I could feel my heart race. The air crackled with unvoiced emotions, and Dr. Bradford remained patient, waiting for him to speak. But I could sense the tension building like a coiled spring. "It's ridiculous," Riccardo finally said, crossing his arms tightly, his voice laced with frustration.

Dr. Bradford smiled gently. "That's something I've heard quite often today." Riccardo shot me another withering look, and I bit my lip, realizing this might not have been the best idea after all. "It's not ridiculous if it hurt both of you."

Riccardo stared at the floor, his voice quiet and heavy. "It was just a stupid fight. Why do we have to go through this now?"

"Because it wasn't just stupid!" I countered, my frustration boiling over, my heart racing. "Can't you just pull yourself together and handle this like adults?"

Riccardo shook his head, his expression tight, a storm of emotions brewing just beneath the surface. "Maybe that's my problem. Maybe I'm just not as mature as the holy Josephine, who seems to never do anything wrong."

I felt irritation bubbling up, my chest tightening. "Oh please. As if I could ever do anything right in your eyes."

Dr. Bradford interjected gently, sensing the rising tension. "Josephine, it's understandable to feel that way, but I get the impression that Riccardo feels the same. Am I wrong?"

I hesitated, crossing my arms defensively, feeling the weight of the moment. "I just don't want to feel like I have to apologize for everything."

"Understanding doesn't mean you're to blame," Dr. Bradford said, his voice steady as he tried to navigate the turbulent waters between us. The silence that followed was thick, each of us grappling with our feelings, searching for a way to break through the barriers we had built.

"I just want to be accepted for who I am. I don't want to feel like I have to change just to fit your expectations."

I crossed my arms, caught between defensiveness and frustration. "I didn't think I was asking you to change. I just thought you could try to be a little more... responsible?"

Riccardo's eyes narrowed. "Responsible? Is that what you think I lack? Maybe I'm just tired of feeling like I'm constantly under scrutiny."

Dr. Bradford intervened softly. "It sounds like both of you have strong feelings about this. Josephine, can you acknowledge how Riccardo feels?"

I hesitated, my irritation flaring again. "It's not that simple. I'm just trying to help. If you could see things from my perspective, maybe it wouldn't feel so tense."

Riccardo shook his head, frustration etched on his face. "You don't get it. I feel like I'm always walking on eggshells around you, trying to meet your standards."

"That's not my intention," I shot back. "But if you would just step up sometimes, it wouldn't be an issue!"

Dr. Bradford observed us calmly, sensing the rising tension. "Josephine, it's important to find a balance. Can you try to understand Riccardo's perspective, even if you don't fully agree with it?"

I rolled my eyes, feeling trapped. "I mean, sure, but that doesn't mean I have to accept everything. He needs to take some responsibility for his actions too."

Riccardo's expression hardened. "So, you're saying it's all on me? That's unfair."

As the silence stretched, the tension in the room felt almost palpable, like a tightrope straining under the weight of our unspoken emotions. I noticed Riccardo's jaw clench, frustration etched deep into his features. Dr. Bradford's presence felt like a steady anchor amidst the turbulence.

"Okay," Dr. Bradford said gently, breaking the stillness. "Let's take a moment to breathe. It's clear that both of you care deeply about this relationship, even if it doesn't always feel that way."

I nodded, swallowing hard as a wave of emotions threatened to spill over. "I don't want to fight anymore," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I feel so lost. Like I'm trying to find the right way to please all of you, Riccardo. And sometimes it feels lieke my efforts are invisible, like nothing I do is ever enough"

Riccardo shifted in his chair, his defensiveness softening just a bit. "I get that. But you don't have to please us, thats not what family is about."

Dr. Bradford nodded encouragingly. "Josephine, can you share what makes you feel supported? What do you need from Riccardo?"

I hesitated, the gears in my mind visibly turning. 'I don't know."

"Well I know what I need." Riccardo sat up. "Sometimes, I feel judged before I even get a chance to explain myself and it annoys me to no end."

A pang of guilt hit me. "I didn't realize you felt that way."

"We're all walking on eggshells around you, especially right now," he replied, his tone softer, almost vulnerable. "What happened to you is so messed up, and I get it. But for me, it's exhausting."

Dr. Bradford interjected with warmth. "That's a valuable insight. Josephine, how does that resonate with you?"

I took a deep breath, allowing his words to sink in. "I know I can be difficult, and I'm sorry for that."

Riccardo's expression softened further, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes. "No one is perfect, especially not me.", he chuckeld. "I don't want to shut you out and I don't want you to push me away either. I'm just sucking at expressing my feelings."

"Communication is key," Dr. Bradford reminded us gently, smiling. "How can you both work on this together moving forward?"

I exchanged a glance with Riccardo, the weight of our unspoken struggles lingering in the air. "Maybe we could set aside some time each week to just talk," I suggested hesitantly. "No judgment, just sharing what's on our minds?"

"I like that," Riccardo replied, his voice steadier now.

"And if either of you feels overwhelmed during the week, don't hesitate to reach out," Dr. Bradford added. "It's okay to ask for support when you need it."

As we sat there, the atmosphere slowly began to shift, the heaviness in the room lightening just a little. I felt a cautious sense of relief wash over me. "I want us to be okay." I said, looking at Riccardo.

"Me too," he said, a small smile breaking through the tension.



Sources:

[*] Mr Bradford, the night before he had to submit the poem