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“In a heartbeat,” I answer.
“For some people, it would be a burden. I won’t lie about that. However, if your siblings are just like you, then I don’t believe it would have that effect on them, even if they don’t totally understand. And you could always bring them in for a family session.”
My head shakes vehemently. No fucking way am I doing that. “I don’t want that label on me.”
“What label?”
“Depression. I don’t want it stamped onto my forehead for them to see it every time they look at me. They don’t get it. I tell them, and they think it’s all rainbows and sunshine if I’m having a good day, like it’s gone and over and we don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
“How do you know they would think that?” she interrupts. “If you haven’t talked to them, then how do you know that would be their reaction? That’s why I suggest a family session whenever you’re ready. It may help to have someone else on your side to explain things. But, we can worry about that later. Is there anything else you would like to talk about?”
Tilting my head, I say, “Seriously? I don’t talk.”
“For forty-five minutes, y
ou just did. Congratulations.” Ms. Cynthia smiles. “I’d like to see you every week for a while if that’s okay?”
Every week? Holy shit.
Wait, our session is over?
“Aren’t we supposed to talk about something helpful? All I get is forty-five minutes?” This is a waste of time if that’s all the time she can give me.
“We’ll do that next week. Today was mostly about getting some background and insight. And yes, a session is only forty-five minutes, which you should love since you don’t like talking.”
Oh, right. I nod and she wraps things up with me before sending me on my way. Nate texts me, saying that him and a few other guys from work are going to a bar if I want to join them. Yes, alcohol. That’s exactly what I need.
They are lined up at the bar, eyes on the hockey game playing on the TV when I get there. Nate slaps me on the shoulder as I lift my chin in a greeting at the rest of my coworkers.
“Do you like hockey?” he questions me, signaling for the bartender.
“Never watched it, but my sister says I should.”
He laughs. “Well, she’s right.”
Everyone’s attention instantly goes to the TV as a fight breaks out on the ice. I’m glad fighting isn’t a part of football. There’s enough ways to get injured without doing that. I avert my attention as the bartender comes over to me with a bright smile on her face.
“What can I get you, sugar?”
I order my favorite, Bourbon, and hope it’ll help me unwind after that therapy session. My phone vibrates in my pocket, so I pull it out.
Olivia: Where are you? Everything okay? Was going to see if you wanted to go out with me and my friends tonight
Me: Out with people from work. Sorry
Should I be sorry? Because I’m not with her instead? I mean, she’ll be fine without me and could probably use the time away from me anyway. We’ll both have fun tonight, just separately.
After the fourth glass, things slow down. Literally. Time fucking stops. I gaze at the TV, my eyes not quick enough to follow along. I’m so heavy and so tired. Wonder if I could just lay my head on the bar and no one notice?
“Corey? Corey? Hey, Corey?” A hand flashes in front of my face and I blink, slowly turning my head to find the source.
Nate.
“You okay, man?”
It takes fifteen seconds for his words to process with my staring at him blankly before nodding. I open my mouth, but forget what I was going to say.
“Are you high or something?”
