E Is For Empathy

[Heven]

E Is for Empathy

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When she was growing up, Malia dreamt of being a veterinarian. She had always loved animals, and felt a special connection to them. Her parents were supportive, to a point, but whenever she would talk about her future career, they would remind her that she needed to reach adulthood first. They did not need to specify further. The implication was evident on both sides. Malia took it in stride, being the obedient daughter that she was, but it still hurt. Her parents meant well, but shame was the last thing she needed.

+++

The man sat in relative silence. He tried to get comfortable on the plush sofa, but it was just slightly too large for his legs, so no matter how he positioned himself, it never felt quite right.

How typical, he thought to himself.

Needing something to occupy his mind, he decided to investigate the assortment of magazines on the nearby table. The spanned a variety of topics, but just like flipping channels on TV, none of them really seemed interesting to him. He compromised on a glossy one called "Boating Monthly," and began to page through looking at the pictures of people on yachts that seemed infinitely happier than he could ever remember being.

Just as the man was starting to daydream, the sound of a door opening pulled him back to reality. An attractive woman in professional attire took a few steps out into the lobby, then met his gaze.

"Mr. Gordon?"

"Luke, please," the man said, rising from the ill-fitting couch.

The woman took another couple of steps to meet him in, then shook his hand warmly.

"Malia. Please follow me."

Luke followed a few steps behind, wondering what he was getting himself into. He couldn't help but stare a little at the woman in front of him. Her cream-colored suit was a modern cut, and very form-fitting. The color accented her copper skin perfectly, and seemed to be chosen with great care. The tailoring accentuated the woman's sloping curves, and as Luke took all of it in, the darker thoughts started to invade his mind again.

This is the kind of woman I'll never have. All there is to do is look and dream.

As Luke followed Malia into her office, he caught a faint whiff of gas, but he was sure he hadn't let one go. It seemed unbelievable that the sophisticated woman in front of him would have farted, in his face no less. He chalked it up to mystery as he took a seat on another couch, as directed by Malia.

At first, neither said a thing. Luke wasn't sure if he was supposed to start, or if Malia was just waiting for the right moment. She simply sat in her chair and looked at him, not quite concentrating, but not daydreaming either.

Luke fidgeted on the couch, having second thoughts about the whole affair. In his head he was cursing his friend, who had recommended this woman to him.

As he was falling into another cycle of negativity, he began to smell the gas again, but stronger this time.

Bizarre…

Malia shifted in her seat, and then began.

"Luke, I suppose you're wondering what you're doing here, am I right."

"You could say that, yes."

"I understand that you heard about me from your friend Adrienne, correct?"

"She said you worked wonders…but she didn't go into specifics."

"If she had, you might not have believed her."

The questions were piling up in Luke's mind, but he tried to maintain a face of calm.

Malia continued, "When she spoke with me about you, your friend Adrienne told me that you aren't one for superstitions or spirituality. I personally could take them or leave them, but I want you to at least understand that I am not some kind of palm reader or astrologer, all right?"

"Okay…"

"Nonetheless, the nature of my work is a little out there, so please bear with me, Luke."

Luke swallowed hard, and again noticed the smell of gas. He was starting to wonder if he had stepped in something outside.

"I've tried a number of different approaches, but there is really no good way to say this. I am not any kind of doctor, nor am I some kind of mystic or healer. I suppose you could call me a sort of therapist, but that would only be approximate."

Luke was growing ever more curious and suspicious, and the smell was only getting stronger, if anything.

"You came here because you have been struggling with depression. You have unresolved issues in your life, and they have gotten to the point where they are getting hard to ignore, am I right?"

"That's right…"

"From our phone consultation, I remember you telling me that you tried going to a couple of therapists, but they were unable to really help you. As you've probably surmised, I practice a different sort of therapy."

Luke sat in puzzlement as Malia crossed one ankle over the other, shifting her long skirt slightly and revealing a little bit more of her shimmery skin.

"Simply put, I am an empath."

Luke was at a loss for words.

"Since I was young, I've had the talent of relating deeply to others. I can feel what they feel, and understand their joys and pains on the most basic of levels. More importantly, I can focus those feelings, and give them shape and substance."

Saying this, Malia almost seemed to blush slightly, interrupting her well-rehearsed explanation.

As Luke was digesting all of this information, and coming to terms with the ridiculousness of the situation, Malia finished her speech.

"So you're wondering where you fit into all of this. You want to know how all of this can possibly help you."

"Yes, you read my mind."

Malia smiled broadly at his little joke, and Luke felt a little wave of reassurance wash over him.

"I'm going to have to ask you to suspend your believe a little bit more, Luke, because this is the strange part."

"Okay," said Luke, not knowing how else to respond.

"When I said I give your feelings substance, I was being literal. I have no explanation to offer you, but simply put, my gift allows me to absorb your sorrows…and expel them out. You will see what I mean by this, I am sure."

Luke wanted to ask Malia what she meant, but he could not think of any correct way to ask, so she continued.

"Now that you understand how this works, let's get started. You're officially on the clock."

Smiling quietly, Malia adjusted herself in her chair, leaning backward. Luke thought he heard a sound like plastic rustling, but he dismissed it.

"So…where do I begin?"

"I can sense that there is something in your past that is causing you great distress, but it's hidden; buried under the surface. Why don't you tell me a little bit about your life, starting from your first memories as a child. No need to go into great detail, but I want to hear your life story."

Luke was taken slightly aback, but Malia gave him a reassuring look, and he found himself feeling more comfortable. After searching his memories for something from his youth, he started telling Malia his life's story.

It was slow going at first, but with subtle encouragement, Luke caught the rhythm of the activity and started going steadily through the events of his life.

Malia listened like a good friend, keeping mostly quiet, and asking an occasional question when she wanted more detail.

Luke found himself opening up more and more, and soon he was surprising even himself with his recollection of his life in high school, and then college. He was just starting to tell Malia about his particularly rough senior year exams when he noticed that she was acting strangely, holding her stomach almost as if in pain.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Please go on, Luke."

Luke continued with his story, but he was getting worried about Malia, who was definitely looking a little ill. As he was detailing his sleepless nights preparing for an oral exam, Malia groaned slightly, and then released a loud, rumbling burst of gas. The smell caught Luke immediately.

"Please excuse me, Luke," Malia said. "Go on."

Luke didn't know what to make of the situation, but Malia at least seemed to be feeling a little better, so he remembered his place in the story and continued.

"…I worked harder for that class than I had for any other, because I really wanted to impress the professor. He was one of those grumpy old men that hardly liked anybody, but there were a few times in class where I'd managed to say things that caught his attention. I wanted nothing more than to get his approval. At the time, I felt like it would lend validity to my majoring in History, which my Dad had always disapproved of…"

Malia suddenly gasped, and then shifted in her seat. Luke could see that she was actually sweating a little.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine, Luke. Please go on. This is important."

Luke set aside his concerns of Malia and tried to finish his story. He was starting to tell her about the night before the exam, when he had shut himself in his dorm room and unplugged his phone, determined not to let himself get distracted by anything. He wanted so badly to do well, to prove his parents wrong.

"Ohhh…" Malia whispered, as she grimaced slightly, then raised herself in her seat slightly to unleash another pungent blast of gas.

"Excuse me…keep going, Luke."

As Luke was starting to tell Malia about the next day's exam, he suddenly felt a sickening feeling washing over him, a dark cloud in his memories. It was then that he remembered. He was just getting back from his exam, which he was pretty sure he'd aced, and he was checking his messages to find that he'd missed three calls from home. The first was from his mother, asking him in a frantic voice to call her back. An hour or so later, she had left a message, this time from the hospital, telling him that his father had been in a car accident, that he was in critical condition, and that he needed to call as soon as he could. The third message was from his uncle, telling him that he had bad news, again asking him to call back. He could hear his mother crying in the background. The sound of her sobs was a clear in his memory as if it had happened yesterday.

As Luke was recalling the tragic events of the day, he noticed that Malia seemed to not be listening anymore. Her eyes were shut tightly, sweat was beading on her forehead, and he thought he could almost see tears in her eyes. She was bent forward now, holding her stomach tightly, and lifting up slightly from the seat of her chair.

Puzzled, Luke watched even as the lingering feelings of sadness and guilt seemed to depart from his mind, leaving everything plain. He had known on an intellectual level that there was nothing to be done about the timing of his father's death, that it was an accident, that it wasn't his fault. It wasn't until now that he was truly accepting it.

As Luke's revelation came over him, Malia grunted loudly, let go a sputtering fart, and then rose halfway out of her chair and bent forward, knees shaking.

Luke couldn't believe it, but there was absolutely no mistaking what was transpiring in front of him. Malia was shitting herself violently, right underneath her tastefully cut skirt, and Luke was watching from the couch, mouth agape.

The smell could only be described as overpowering, but there was nowhere to go. Luke was transfixed. He could hear the mess exploding out of her, and it seemed to go on forever.

"Ughhhh…oh God!" Malia said, bearing down one last time and releasing the final remnants from her bowels. Finally, she opened her eyes, took a few deep breaths, and then seemed to go weak at the knees, teetering forward. Luke rushed forward to catch her before she fell, and he got to her just in the knick of time.

By all rights, he should have been positively disgusted, but the feeling of calm that had come over him as Malia was having her accident had only deepened. He felt utterly at peace.

"Are you all right, Malia?"

Malia took a moment to respond. She was shivering slightly, still recovering from the episode. Her breathing was ragged, but it was clear she was improving.

"I'll be all right. How are you, Luke"

"I've never been better," said Luke, and he meant it.

With utmost calm, he did his best to steady Malia, then helped her stand up. It barely registered in his mind that what Malia was wearing under her skirt was much too thick to be a pair of panties. He was only partially there in the present. Most of his attention was elsewhere, reliving the events of his past and seeing things clearly, now that the curtain of guilt was lifted.

Malia walked slowly back to her chair, taking wide steps, waddling slightly, then sat down with an audible squish.

"So now you see what I meant, I take it." Malia gave Luke a sheepish grin.

"You were right. I would never have believed this if you'd said it outright."

"It's true, some things, you have to see to believe."

Luke nodded.

"I can feel that you are much more at peace, Luke. I'm very glad I could help."

Luke smiled, still lost in thought.

"Go home, and spend the rest of the day thinking about what you learned. We can meet again in a week to talk about it."

"Um…are you going to be all right?" Luke asked.

"It comes with the territory. As much as a person could be, I am used to this by now."

"I can't thank you enough, Malia."

"I'll be sending you a bill in the mail. That will be thanks enough, Luke," Malia said with a mischievious smile.

Malia then rose from her chair, waddled toward Luke, and shook his hand firmly.

"Thank you again for your help, Malia."

"It was my pleasure."

[Drillers]

Very Interesting story good job

[Frink]

Heven, you sure like the brainfucks, don'tcha? Niiice.