I want to be a good therapist. I am one. But there is more that can be done than the one hour a week I give them. Therapy should be looked at holistically, not just from the perspective of talking through our feelings. It should be implemented in our actions.
“I don’t want to waste my time with people who aren’t putting in the effort to enact change,” I lie.
The truth is, I want to be the best. My father is one of the most famous psychologists in the US. He wrote countless papers and articles on methods of therapy, running his own practice for thirty years. He did it all whilst being burdened with family obligations,his words not mine.
My mother, their three sons, all were deadweight that he was obligated to spend time with. Like unwanted fish in a bare tank, we weren’t entertaining to him or useful, yet he had to take care of us, regardless.
Imagine what I could achieve without the obligation of family life taking away my attention. Imagine the strides I could make within the field. All whilst not making anyone miserable in the process. Because that’s what he did. He made my mother miserable whilst I whined for attention. My younger brother Teddy took the middle-finger approach and acted out in rebellion, and our youngest brother Miles kept himself so small and quiet, he never dared ask for anything. That was his true legacy, despite being the acclaimed Dr. Arnold Adams. He never really did live up to his prestige. He’s still alive. Still working on his papers. Luckily, Mom divorced him and hasn’t seen him inyears. I see him at the occasional psychology association event, but I tend to avoid them so I don’t run into him.
“I call bullshit. I saw the way you ran after him. You enjoyed it.” Mia stares at me, assessing, calling me out on my shit like she can smell it. She’s a goddamn bloodhound.
“You’re one to talk. You grabbed him by the underwear so vigorously it was like you were trying to create a new Panama Canal.” She turns away now, attempting to hide the smile that's pulling at her mouth. “Where the hell did you learn that, anyway?”
“I’m not sure anyone teaches someone how to give a wedgie, but I did grow up with four brothers, so you can probably give credit to them.”
“Huh, no wonder you’ve never had a boyfriend.” She flinches, the smile that was playing on her lips vanishes, and I feel like an ass. “Or…girlfriend?”
She huffs a laugh, and the tension in my chest eases a little. “Just into guys actually, but my brothers are all in Texas still. And even if they were here, if I wanted to date, I would just date.”
“So, your perpetual single-girl lifestyle is a choice then?”
Why am I asking this?
Because she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, and you can't imagine how someone hasn’t snapped her up yet.
She purses her lips. “Let’s get back on track, shall we? Are you going to stop stalking patients now that you got your ass handed to you?”
I don’t want to lie. I detest liars, and I really couldn’t be so uptight about my patients lying to my face if I was just going to do the same to my employee.
Looking away from her officious glare, I contemplate my answer. Am I going to continue to follow patients? I have no doubt. The rush that comes with watching them is unmatched. I have been living too carefully, too rigidly for too long, and this isthe only thing that brings some semblance of excitement to my life. I can’t give it up now just because I’ve taken a few hits to the nose.
The ringing of my phone interrupts us.
Lottie calling.
“I need to take this.”
Does that count as a lie?
“We’re not done here, Dr. Adams,” Mia huffs, her lips pouting. Even when she’s irritated, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
I swipe to answer my phone, stepping out of Mia’s orbit.
“Lottie, everything okay?”
We’ve been friends for a long time, but we don’t often call each other. She’s the calmest of our group of friends, undoubtedly the most accomplished and that’s on her own merit, despite the value her family name brings to the table. She could have had a life of leisure if she chose to, her family status and funds would have allowed it. Instead, she earned her PhD in psychology alongside me and our friends. The group of friends we made in our first year of university have a standing dinner reservation at Lottie’s house once a month. Although we call itDinner Club,it mostly involves us drinking far too much, Lottie passing out, Caleb winding everyone up until Katie and Jonesy, who basically hate each other, end up in a near fist-fight. It’s my favorite part of the month, at least before I started my extracurricular activities.
“Alfie, I saw the news. Are you okay?” Her voice is high-pitched with worry.
“The news? What do you mean?” I glance at Mia, who is frowning but pulls out her phone.
“You got beat up by some man in an alleyway, and your girlfriend had to save you. We didn’t even know you had a girlfriend.”
“Are you calling because you’re more concerned about me getting punched or are you annoyed that I didn’t tell you I was seeing someone?”
She pauses for a moment before muttering, “It is kind of big news for you to have a girlfriend.”
“But not for me to get punched?” I spar back, knowing I’m only delaying the inevitable bullshit story I’m going to have to say. I don’t like liars, I remind myself.
