Sabina “Aziza” Pt. 1
“I must say, Sabina – I mean excuse me” – the woman cleared her throat – “Aziza that I’m usually the one scheduling our sessions.” She flashed Aziza a smile. “May I ask why you called?”
Aziza took notice of the veins protruding from the woman’s wrinkled hands. Age crept along the lines of crow’s feet underneath her eyes as she wiped the lenses of her glasses on her shirt. The notepad resting on the woman’s lap always made Aziza’s foot tap, anxiously. Seeing her scribble on the pad made her believe she really was crazy sometimes. She leaned back on the comfort of the cushioned seat, feeling the nice leather calm her nerves. The air humidifier she spotted in the corner of the room put her at ease. Breathing in and out became easier. She cocked her head to the left where the clock struck 12:04 p.m. A few minutes passed.
“Interesting,” the woman said.
Aziza fiddled with her thumbs, not responding. She noticed her study her foot briefly.
“You keep avoiding eye contact. Why?”
“I’m uncomfortable,” Aziza managed to blurt out.
“Uncomfortable? With me? We’ve known each other for years.”
“No, with what you’re about to see, Madeline.” Aziza shifted with unease.
“We don’t have to do this if you’re not up to it. I know what you’ve been through.”
“Doing the usual is fine.”
“We can talk about it if you’d like. No need to hasten the process.”
Aziza smirked. “We both know it would be easier if you just saw it yourself. Right, Madame Psyche?”
“Wow, I haven’t heard that in a while. You’re stirring up memories in this old woman.” Madeline chuckled and adjusted her glasses.
“I envy you.”
“Oh?”
“You’re just so” – Aziza averted her gaze for a moment to search for the right word – “together.”
“I wasn’t always this way.”
“I know,” Aziza said, tucking the piece of hair that fell out of place from her abaya.
“Being telepathic,” Madeline continued, “takes its toll.”
Aziza watched her carefully take her glasses off and look her in the eyes.
“You are stronger than I was. Even as a girl you believed your ability to be a gift. The explosion at your elementary school in the past could have deterred you, but it didn’t.”
Aziza observed the sincerity of her face as Madeline leaned forward in her chair.
“While hiding yourself from the dangerous people who chased you growing up, you still choose faith over fear. Your belief, your hope, and your heart are what make you a strong young woman. I wasn’t even half the person you were at your age.”
“What was it like being isolated from the world?”
“Scary.” Madeline’s voice cracked slightly. “Imagine hearing the whole world’s thoughts at once, caving in on you 24/7. The fact I could move things with my mind -” Madeline paused as the notepad on her lap floated. Aziza’s lips curled to a smile as the notepad turned to reveal, “No one can know of what we really talk about anyway. I’ll put the usual stuff down for your disability.”
“wasn’t exciting to me,” Madeline continued. “It was horrifying. The splitting headaches and nosebleeds sucked. There’s no other way of putting it.” She sighed. “I saw it as a curse.”
“You never did tell me what made you become the person you are today.”
Madeline was silent for a moment. Aziza observed the notepad float gently back down onto her lap.
“Oh my,” Madeline suddenly said as she fitted her glasses back on, “we did veer off topic, didn’t we? After all, this appointment isn’t about me.”
Aziza frowned. Madeline let out a sigh.
“Fine. I’ll make you a deal. If you show me what you came her for, I’ll give you a little peek inside how I became Madame Psyche. Deal?”
“Deal,” Aziza said as if she just won something.
“You still act childish sometimes, I swear,” Madeline said, shaking her head. “Come.”
Aziza leaned forward and moved her chair closer to Madeline’s. Her warm fingers felt comforting as she carefully placed it on Aziza’s temples. An aroma of perfume laced with the smell of peaches wafted up to Aziza’s nose as she loosened her shoulders. Her thoughts faded to a particular moment as she shut her eyes.
The world around Aziza stopped as an eight-year old. She woke up to her parents being perfectly still in the kitchen as if they were mannequins. She sprinted towards them, nearly slipping on the tile floor with her socks. Even after tugging at her mom’s blouse and pushing her father, she couldn’t get them to budge. Fleeing from the house in tears, she ran into the street to try to get neighbors to help them. To her amazement, a car on the street didn’t move either. She figured the car was just in park at first, but her jaw dropped as the driver stared blankly forward, not moving an inch. Water from a gardening hose on a neighbor’s lawn stood still in the air. A person walking their dog on the sidewalk were stiff like life-sized toys. It was as if someone pressed pause on life. Her knees dropped to the ground. Uncontrollable sobs came forth like rivers onto the pavement as she stared lifeless into the floor, not knowing what to do.
“I want it to all stop!” she screeched, closing her eyes.
Opening them again, she was dumbfounded. She heard her parents’ voices call her back in, the car was now at a stop sign down the street, water from the hose spurted out in a stream, and the person walking their dog stared at her, concerned. The dog cocked his head to the side as confused as she was, gazing back at her.
Aziza felt the two fingers retreat from her temples. Her eyelids opened to a blurry haze. It cleared soon enough to see a tear roll down Madeline’s cheek. Aziza saw her immediately wipe it away, regaining her composure. The room became deafeningly quiet for a moment.
“I suppose you did warn me,” Madeline managed to say, lightening the mood.
Aziza tried to smile but turned into a slight smirk instead.
“I must say I am concerned now.”
To her surprise, Aziza saw a worried expression on her face. “Concerned? Why? You’re usually the positive one. Don’t change on me now.” Her voice was shaken, almost rattled.
“In all our sessions, you have told me all of your episodes in explicit detail. Why keep this from me?”
Aziza peered down at her intertwined fingers resting on her lap and tapped her foot again.
It’s okay, she heard a voice say in her head. Her gaze met Madeline’s sincerity. You know you can tell me. No judgement here.
Aziza exhaled before uttering, “When I go home, all I see are four walls.” She made gestures with her hands as she was speaking. “I feel like there’s this… unspeakable hole. Every time I get that feeling, I flash back to the memory you saw.”
“I understand.” Madeline stood up from her chair, walked over to Aziza, and crouched down, putting her hands in hers. “In that moment you froze time as a girl, you felt lonely and you still feel that way when you go home. I need you to know you’re not alone. Okay?”
Aziza solemnly nodded her head. “But why did you create an alter ego just to help people, and why do I have to pretend to be on mental disability, hiding what I can do to blend into society, if we’re not alone.”
“Because you and I know too well the world isn’t ready for people like us. We do what we can to use our gifts, as you like to put it, to help people in situations we can.”
“What made you want to make the change to be more? To be Madam Psyche?”
Madeline let go of Aziza’s hands and stood up. “I inadvertently hurt my mom with my gift who happened to be the one person there for me growing up. She believed in me.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea,” Aziza said. “I didn’t mean to push -”
“It’s okay.” Madeline steadily made her way to the clock on the left wall. “Time sure does fly, doesn’t it? I wanted to honor what she saw in me, and I decided to help people as a vigilante.”
“I’m not sure if I could make that step you did and do what you did.”
“Small steps are a good way to start any journey. You don’t have to follow mine. Take control of your own.”
“Yeah, but where do I start?”
“Where all life stories start,” Madeline answered.
Aziza raised a brow, confused.
“With yourself,” she said, looking back at her smiling. “You just need to take control of your life and have the confidence that you can.
Those words echoed inside of Aziza’s head as she took a rideshare service back home. Trickles of rain plopped onto the other side of the window she was staring out of. Street lights illuminated the sidewalks, people were casually walking, and a car passed by with a family laughing in it. Sometimes she wished she could just be normal like everyone else, but she knew in her heart destiny had other plans for her.
The driver pulled over on the side of the street near her home. It was a low-end flat with paint peeling off the sides, dying plants at the entrance, and a broken window on one of the upper floors. The click to unlock the doors made Aziza collect herself again. She clutched her purse under her armpit, getting ready to leave his car.
“I hope you have a good evening,” he said.
Aziza gently touched his shoulder. She saw his stunned expression in the rearview mirror. Nothing but concern showed on her face.
“Thank you for the ride.” She took her hand off his shoulder. “Be sure to wait about a minute before driving onto the road again.”
He was confused. “Why a minute?”
“You’ll see.” Aziza stepped out of the car and shut the door. She dug her keys from her purse before approaching the apartment complex.
Immediately after, a loud screech came from the road. A pickup truck came to a halt too late and rammed a car in front of it near where the rideshare driver parked. Debris flew everywhere, but the driver was luckily unscathed as he swiftly made his way out of the car to see the wreckage. Aziza caught a glimpse of his pale face, looking back in disbelief when she made it inside her complex.
She nearly tripped up the staircase to her door. “After all these years, I’m still a klutz,” she said to herself. She held the banister with her right hand, which was shaking.
Before entering her apartment, she scanned all around her to make sure she wasn’t being followed. Her right hand was still shaking as she made her way to the bathroom. Two prescription bottles sat on a shelf in the cabinet. One contained clonazepam for anxiety; the other lorazepam for sleep apnea. She stared at the bottles, being surrounded by four walls and reliving the memory. Little did she know a journey was around the corner, which would decide if she was a hero of her own story or the catalyst of a foreseen destruction.
Reginald andah 