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I narrow my eyes. Doubtful, I want to say, but I say nothing.
“I know this is a very difficult time for you. It’s a difficult time for me, too.”
I nod, so he knows that I’m at least listening. My hands twitch and I feel this desperate need to either text Millie back or message anyone from my contacts list about any parties going on. All I want to do is drown out everything going wrong in my life.
The door opens and I tilt my head to the side, watching a woman in her forties walk into the reception. Her curly black hair is up in a bun and she smiles at me with dark eyes, gesturing towards a dimly lit room behind her. I see the hint of a white couch through the cracked door along with some white carpeting.
“Alright, Hunter,” she says in a soft, soothing voice. “I’m ready for you.”
My dad pops up from his seat and holds out a hand. “I’m Hunter’s father, Tom. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He holds up the papers awkwardly while I slowly rise from the chair. “I haven’t finished filling everything out.”
“Totally fine. You can hand them in when you’re finished.”
I roll my eyes while I shuffle into the room, hearing Dad call after me, “I’ll be right outside. Maybe we can go for ice cream after.”
My shoulders tense at the thought as a memory pops up of a time when I was about twelve years old; when we all went to get ice cream after my football practice. I sigh and wipe a hand over my face, trying to will the memories and the pain away as I dump my exhausted body into the couch across from Dr. Forrester’s desk.
She pads in and closes the door quietly behind her. Her heels make zero noise on the carpet and she smiles at me while she strides towards her desk. I wait for her to take a seat, but she only grabs a stack of papers and a pen before walking back to the couch and taking a seat on the other side.
I move immediately, trying to put at least two couch cushions between us. I feel awkward. This whole thing is frustrating. I don’t need to talk to anyone. I’ve been having a touch semester. Everyone eventually gets a tough school year. How am I any different?
“So, Hunter,” says Dr. Forrester. “What brings you in today?”
I shrug. “Nothing. My dad thought it would be a good idea.”
Dr. Forrester nods. “So your father is worried about you.” I watch her write something down, suspecting it’s about my father. I fight the need to roll my eyes at how cliché all this seems. “Why is he worried Hunter?”
I scoff. “I don’t know. It’s not like he really cared all that much before.”
She writes again. The sound irritates me so I quickly look away, finding several candles lit around the room. There’s a lamp and a light above us, however they’re not on. A book shelf sits to my right, behind the therapist. It’s stocked full of books on relationships and parenthood, among other things. The scent of vanilla wafts towards me and I wrinkle my nose as I recall another memory of my mother lighting candles for Christmas.
“Well, he seems to care now,” comes Dr. Forrester’s soothing voice, drawing me back to her dark, soft gaze. “Why do you think he cares now? Did something happen?”
I open my mouth, but I don’t know what to say. Yes, something did happen. I fucked up and got so wasted my friends and family couldn’t find me. A drug dealer beat the shit out of me for now being able to pay. I can’t say that.
I clamp my mouth close and go to rise. “I don’t think this is going to work,” I say while trying to turn away. I notice out of the corner of my eye that the therapist has stood. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
“It’s not a waste at all Hunter. I think it’s actually quite brave that you were able to come in today.”
I stop on my path towards the door. I turn around, completely confused. “How is this brave?” I ask, cringing at the bitterness in my voice. I’m angry and I don’t know why. I shouldn’t be taking it out on her. She’s only doing her job. Of course she doesn’t want me to leave. She won’t get paid if she loses a client. I should just go.
“It’s hard to talk about one’s feelings,” she says. “Especially men. Most men have been raised with the belief that feeling anything but rage and joy is a weakness and shouldn’t be discussed. It’s brave of you to come in today.”
My hands shake. I want to shout, to hit something. I’m fine, I want to scream. Everything is fine. I still when I feel my cellphone vibrate and my thoughts immediately go to Drew, wondering if he’s messaging me about another party. My teeth grind together and my fingers twitch as if there’s a rope wound tightly around me and Drew is yanking on it furiously; dragging me back into his depths.
“Hunter, are you okay?”
I wobble on my feet.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Dr. Forrester gestures back to the couch and I take the three steps towards it before dumping myself on the cushions.
My gaze focuses on the candles resting on the coffee table in front of me. I hear some clinking, but I don’t turn towards the noise; needing to find some semblance of calm while I try to control my fingers.
It could be from Rachel, I tell myself. It could be absolutely nothing. Still, I don’t reach for my phone, worried that I will lose all my strength and give in to that dark need.
“Here.”
I look up and see a glass filled with water in front of me. Grabbing it, I guzzle down the liquid, enjoying the coolness against my throat. However, it’s only a temporary fix and I find myself fidgeting again, trying to steer my thoughts away from Millie and Drew. My leg bumps up and down while my gaze returns to Dr. Forrester. I grimace when I find her leaning against her desk, watching me.
