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“I have a problem,” I say quickly. “I don’t really know how or why it happened. It just… started and then got worse as time went on.”
Dr. Forrester nods. “Most bad habits start off that way.”
“I don’t want my dad to know,” I say harshly.
“Whatever is said in my office doesn’t leave my office,” she says. “I’m legally bound to keep whatever you say private.”
I nod vigorously while tapping my fingers against my knees. “Okay, well, I…” I don’t even know where to begin. I’m searching for words but all and none come to mind at the same time.
“Why don’t we start with the phone,” says Dr. Forrester. “Who texted you? Or… who do you think texted you?”
“Millie,” I say while leaning back in the couch. “She messaged me right before our session.”
Dr. Forrester perks up, her eyes lifting in interest. “Is Millie your girlfriend?”
“No,” I say while shaking my head. “Definitely not.”
“And do you want her to be your girlfriend or…”
I make a face and Dr. Forrester stops speaking. She purses her lips and walks behind her desk, sitting in her chair. She leans forward while resting her chin in her hands, blinking back at me. “Did Millie do something to you?”
“No, not really,” I say while lowering my gaze to my lap, feeling awkward and embarrassed. “I didn’t want to be alone. And she made it so I didn’t have to be.”
“Did you have fun with this girl?”
“I don’t remember,” I say softly. I grimace as I realize it’s the truth. This entire time I have been partying it up and I can’t even recall what happened or if I even enjoyed it. The parties have always been the perfect distraction from my problems. “I just didn’t want to think about it anymore. About my mother and her cancer.”
“Did Millie help you forget?”
I shake my head. “No. I kept thinking of my mother which made me drink more.” I release a shuddering breath while my hands grip my knees. “And eventually… I did more than just drinking.” I lift my gaze and watch Dr. Forrester nod.
“Did it help?”
I purse my lips, remembering passing out in bathrooms and on floors, being unable to find my wallet and shoes, losing my coat, getting yelled at by Millie and hit by Jerry. “No,” I say while shaking my head. “It didn’t.” I sniff, remembering getting a phone call from my dad and throwing my cell into the snow. “Actually,” I say shakily, “it made things worse.” Tears slip from my eyes and I quickly wipe them away. I try to regain control of my body, but I can’t. My lips are trembling while I try to swallow my sobs. “I wasn’t there for her,” I rasp. “I wasn’t there for my mom when she died.” I bury my face into my hands. “I’m a terrible son.”
“You’re not a terrible son.”
I lift my gaze and see Dr. Forrester holding out a tissue for me. I snatch it from her hands and quickly blow my nose, hating myself for letting myself go. Strangely, I feel better after crying and dab the tissue against my eyes. “I don’t think I can ever forgive myself,” I breathe.
“Cancer is hard. Losing a parent is hard, especially at your age. I can’t snap my fingers and make everything difficult disappear from your life.”
I nod while swallowing another sob.
“But I can give you the tools to help you take one day at a time.” She nods towards the outline of my cellphone in my pants. “Starting with that. For our next session, I want you to write down a daily schedule you intend to adhere to and the names of the people you can trust to help you.”
I chuckle bitterly. “You’re giving me homework?”
Dr. Forrester nods. “If you want to feel better, you’ll do your homework.” I watch her grab a small note pad and write something down before tearing it out and handing the note to me. “I’ll see you next week. Same time. Same day. Don’t forget your homework.”
I take the paper and nod before heading towards the door, already feeling a tiny bit lighter.
