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“No.” Standing, I follow him into his office.
“I don’t know about other people, but I don’t cozy up with my neighbors like that,” he comments, taking a seat behind his desk as I sit in the one across from him.
“Maybe you should try it sometime.”
“I’m surprised you brought her, even if she isn’t coming back here with us.”
“I didn’t have a choice. That’s not what we’re supposed to be talking about. The medication sucks.”
Dr. Stewart drops the subject of Olivia’s presence and starts discussing another medication. We agree to give a new one a test run, and he writes the prescription. Only, he holds it hostage.
“Have you made an appointment with the therapist yet?”
“No.”
“Why not?” he questions.
I want to yell, but I don’t. “I don’t want to.” Olivia’s words run through my mind, so thinking it will help, I add, “Olivia is in school to be a therapist. She said I could talk to her if I wanted. That’s what I’m doing. I know her, and it’s easier.”
“Then let’s bring her in here. That way I can really know how you’re doing.”
Every muscle in my body tenses. “No. I just told you how I’m doing.”
“Do you want help?” He levels a stare at me, and I want to punch him.
“That doesn’t have anything to do with Olivia,” I reply through a clenched jaw.
He is quiet for a minute. “Tell me why you’re having trouble, Corey.”
What? Is he high on something? What does that have to do with what we were talking about? My jaw aches from how tightly I’m holding it closed. I glare at him. He wants me to say it. He doesn’t know that I’ve talked so much already today, I’m nearly out of words.
“Tell me why you’re depressed, Corey,” he tries again, emphasizing that one word.
“Tell me how you managed to get a degree. Give me the prescription, so I can leave,” I snap. He doesn’t say a word. Only watches me with scrutiny. Each second ticks by louder than the next, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. When the words leave my mouth, it’s like I explode, combusting into nothing. “I can’t fucking play! I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I can’t play football and I can’t handle it, damn it!
“Football was my therapy and my medication and I lost it. I didn’t even have a choice! There. Are you happy now? I lost the last thing I had from—” My words break off and I stop, my chest rising and falling from the anger pulsing rapidly in my blood. “Keep your fucking prescription. I don’t need it anyway.” I stand and hurry down the hallway.
Thank God I paid before my appointment, so I’m free to leave. His footsteps are quick behind me, and he calls after me, but I ignore him. Olivia sits up when she sees me.
“Let’s go.” My voice is harsh with my order.
She stands.
“Corey, wait,” Dr. Stewart says from somewhere behind me.
I don’t.
Until Olivia puts her hand on my arm.
She doesn’t know what’s going on as she glances between us. We’re paused long enough for Dr. Stewart to walk over to me. A long exhale leaves through my nose. He has two seconds to get the hell away from me before I hit him.
“I pushed too soon and I apologize. Here.” He holds out the prescription, but I make no move to take it. Olivia does, though. “I’d like to see you again in two weeks unless you have trouble.”
Still, I say nothing.
“I’ll make sure he schedules something. Have a good day,” Olivia answers him, taking my hand and pulling me out the door. As badly as I want to yank my hand away from hers, I don’t. “I’ll drive,” she tells me.
I don’t object. All I want is to go home and go to bed. Today sucks. Olivia doesn’t pepper me with questions on the drive home, which is good because I’m lost in my mind anyway. He’s fucking right he pushed. He should be sorry. I should find a new psychiatrist because I don’t want to come back in two weeks to see him.
