Growing Up & Rotting Away

As an African American woman born in Virginia, growing up as a person hadn't been easy for Alexandra Oshun. Even for those capable of following the right path, their journey gets obstructed by things as ridiculous as appearance. And being black wasn't the worst for her; it was her full-bodied figure, which she had carried from childhood into her thirties.

She did everything right, or at least by what’s expected from a woman like her; she surpassed the standards of success. She graduated with honors from high school, entered college on a scholarship to study psychology, where she would once again graduate with honors before completing her doctorate before turning twenty-eight. With her career solidified, she sat in her office with not much else to do. The famous "Now what?" had caught up with her.

Honors, employment, an apartment, a car, more than enough money for her needs. It seemed like the obvious next step was to find a partner, and yet…

She looked at that high school photo in her office. Years could have been easier if those brats had treated her better. Perhaps she wouldn't fear and hate men as much if it weren't for those cruel classmates who marginalized her in what was supposed to be the best years of her life.

"I was thinner”.

"Long hair didn't work out for me”.

"My breasts also grew”.

These were some things she told herself as she looked at her ten years younger face. She heard the doorbell and immediately stored the portrait on her desk, indicating for the next patient to come in.

"Good morning”, Alexandra greeted with formal authority, adjusting her glasses. "You must be the new patient Carla…"

Alexandra stopped as if time itself had halted. Her eyes didn't deceive her; it was Spencer Pellegrini. In an instant, as if time had rewound, she saw for a second that young man who had bullied her throughout her high school years. It seemed like a bad omen how she had just remembered him a few seconds ago and now he appeared again in her life, after a little over ten years.

"Chocolate milk cow”.

That's what Spencer used to call Alexandra in those years. The name returned to her present, along with the feeling of inferiority. Without realizing it, she had shrunk back to the girl she used to be. But Spencer sat down as if he ignored everything that was happening to her.

"Yes, Carla, the secretary, right? I met her at the gym, to be honest. I really appreciate her for allowing me a moment to get an appointment with you. I understand it's not easy to find a professional of your caliber”.

Alexandra was still trying to process the moment. Was it really him? She looked at his file for a moment to check the list of patients. And twice looked at the high school photo

"Of course, you must be Mr…"

"Pellegrini. Spencer Pellegrini Henderson. Pleasure to meet you, Doctor…" he glanced at the plaque on her desk, "A. Oshun”.

She couldn't believe it. It really was him. But even more incredible – not to mention offensive – Spencer seemed not to recognize Alexandra. She timidly planned a strategy, hoping to find out if this was all part of a cruel joke.

"How can I help you, Mr. Pellegrini?"

"I understand that you're a professional in your field. I have a series of personal problems that I would like to solve. I've tried conventional therapy and some alternatives, but they didn't solve my problem. But I heard about you and your incredible results in behavioral therapy. I understand you're quite a celebrity in your field, so your fees must be top-notch. I want you to know that none of that is a problem, and I'm very committed to this treatment…"

Obviously, money wouldn't be a problem for Pellegrini, the son of one of the biggest real estate owners in the region. He would possibly take the money from there, but he must have a very serious problem if he thought of spending that amount of money on such an unconventional therapy as…

"So, you're familiar with the fact that I practice hypnosis”.

"That's right. And I have no issue with it”.

Definitely, it was Spencer. So many years, and he was still the same in his attitudes. A respectful and fluent speech, masking false respect under a facade of superiority. Formal yet relaxed attire. He wore expensive shirt, pants, and shoes, but one size too small, so they looked tight on him. A watch peeked from under the shirt cuff. Rolex. Yes, evidently, he had money and liked to show it.

After all, this guy loved to drag attention. As in high school he dressed with bright colors and flirted with every girl. Maybe that’s where his nickname came from: “the Peacock”. Maybe he was a little ridiculous, yes, but he still possessed that athletic, heavy body, marked by muscles. Subtle shade beard, sharp jawline, light mane, and two stunning blue eyes.

Alexandra had forgotten how much she had stare looking at that jackass in high school years. But even now, his body was even more impressive, the result of physical maturity typical of his age.

“So, tell me, Mr. Pellegrini, what seems to be the problem?”