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He looks serious. Thoughtful, like what I’ve just said tells him a lot about me. I sit forward, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. It’s not even about me, but I still feel exposed.
Then again, therapy has never been my thing. Not even after my dad killed our mom and then offed himself.
Did I mention my family was pretty messed up?
Things weren’t good before it happened, so though it wasn’t expected, if you had to choose a family capable of that kind of shit, ours would’ve been up there. It’s strange. I had a good relationship with my parents. They both had their issues, but we knew they loved us. We weren’t the problem. The problem they had was with each other.
They couldn’t stand to be together, but being apart wasn’t an option either. Mom had been more willing to move on than Dad was. It was after she insisted on a divorce that the cracks began to appear in Dad. His relationship with Brix is what really suffered and then ultimately, with Mom.
I look away, focusing on what I can see out of the small window, rather than let that part of my life back in. It took me a long time to get over that and the only way I could do it was to bury it beneath a thousand other emotions. Therapy wouldn’t have made a difference. It didn’t help me work through the physical abuse I’d suffered at the hands of my grandparents so I refused to even try. Eventually, those trying to help us gave up and let us deal with things in our own way.
“Let’s focus on your relationship with Nate today then, shall we? That’s obviously more important to you than your career.”
I swallow a laugh. I’m more important than his career? That’s news to me.
“You look amused. You didn’t tell me that in our last session?” he asks.
“If I did, then I must’ve been on something pretty heavy,” I murmur. “I’m joking,” I quickly add when he scribbles something down in his notebook.
He gives me a long, pointed look that makes me want to elaborate.
Fuck, this guy is good.
“I just meant that my brother would never believe that’s true,” I say.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m an asshole to him,” I say flatly. “I never call him, except when I need his help, which is all the fucking time. We’re the only family each other’s got, but I treat him like something I walked in. No, actually I think I’d show more respect for something I walked in than I show Nate.”
I clench my hands together in my lap to disguise the fact that I’m shaking. That’s how worked up this conversation has got me.
“You’re harboring a lot of anger,” he observes. “Is that directed at yourself or your brother, do you think?”
“Myself.” I swallow. “For how I treat him, I guess. And how I treat other people.” I pause for a moment to gather my thoughts about my brother and how I see him. “I guess I have some issues to work through when it comes to my brother,” I murmur, as much to myself than to him.
I’m not speaking in character when I say that, either.
In the space of a few minutes, I’m seeing my relationship with Brix from a completely new angle. I’ve always been so quick to blame him, but maybe it’s not all on him. Maybe the breakdown in our relationship is as much my fault, for not trying harder.
“Are you ready to talk about it now, Brix?” he asks.
I laugh nervously and rub the back of my neck, suddenly feeling all the pressure in the world.
“Sure. Let’s do it,” I finally say.
What’s the worst that can happen?
“Good,” Doctor Luke looks satisfied as he jots something down. “Can you think of a reason why you think your brother won’t accept who you are?”
“Who I am?” I repeat with a frown.
He nods. “Your sexuality.”
I frown, not sure I heard him right. Is he implying Brix is gay?
There’s no fucking way that’s true.
Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t care less if he were gay, straight or curved, but the idea of my womanizing, different chick every night brother being into guys is ridiculous.
He must’ve been messing with the doctor. Or me. He knew I’d say yes to doing this, so why not plant a few seeds just to mess with me? He probably wants me to straight out ask him if he’s gay so he can laugh his ass off. It’s just the kind of stunt he’d pull.
“Okay, I think that’s enough for today,” I say, getting to my feet.
“I’m sorry, Brix. You don’t get to decide that. Remember, it’s one of the stipulations of your plea agreement is that you agreed to address your issues.”
“And me being gay would be an issue that needed addressing?” I say with a laugh.
