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“Talk to me about it,” he says, prodding me for more. He’s good at that.
“I don’t want to disappoint Jack, and I’m grateful. I still don’t know what I want to do, though.”
“Well, it’s only been a week and I’m sure Mr. Henderson wouldn’t have sponsored you if he thought you’d disappoint him.”
“We all know it was a favor to my uncle. I live off favors,” I say flatly, although I don’t look him in the eye. My gaze is on the ceiling fan in the center of the room. When I close my eyes, I can just barely feel the soft breeze. I wonder if anyone else in college feels as lost as I do. Like this is their last chance. I’ve been on my last chance for years now, so maybe this is my version of normal.
“Do you think you don’t deserve it?” he asks me and I lower my gaze so I can meet his eyes. His expression is one of curiosity.
“A free ride to college isn’t something I ever thought I’d get.”
“And anger management? How about that?” he says, shifting in the seat of his dark brown leather chair. “Is that something you thought you’d get?”
A low chuckle makes my shoulders shake. “Yeah, that makes sense to me,” I say with a grin.
“How do you think this is working for you?”
“I feel good,” I answer him and hope the gratitude comes through. “It’s nice to just say the shit I’m thinking.”
“Have you thought more about my last suggestion?” he asks me and I shake my head.
“Well, yeah, I’ve thought about it,” I say, correcting myself, realizing I was answering no to the wrong question. “I’m not doing it, though.”
I left my mother’s house six years ago. From there I survived by hopping from friend to friend. Crashing at my uncle’s when he’d let me. I haven’t gone back to that hellhole my mother calls home and I don’t plan on it.
She doesn’t want me there, so why would I?
“You don’t think your mother would be interested in seeing your progress?” he asks.
“I don’t see it as progress,” I say.
“Why’s that?”
The answer is obvious. College isn’t a job. There’s no worth to it. No value in it.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with my life. I’m not offering anything to anyone. I’m just … here. How is that progress? It’s better for me, don’t get me wrong. It’s not better for anyone else, though.
“I don’t see the point to it.” I pause and swallow thickly, bending forward and repositioning so my elbows are on my knees. I can feel the stretch through my back, loosening my tight shoulders and coiled muscles. “I like the team, I like the gym.”
“The physical release?” he asks me, and I can’t help but think of Allison.
My fingers interlace as I nod. “Yeah, the physical release,” I say and look up at him to keep from thinking about what I’d do to her if I got the chance.
“And you think you need this physical release?”
“I need something,” I answer quickly. I don’t tell him the truth. About how all that shit puts me on edge. How it makes me need more. How that alone will never be enough. Deep inside I know it, but I don’t admit it.
“Anything else?” he asks as if he read my mind.
“Nothing yet,” I tell him and falter, but decide to talk about her. Why the hell not? It’s better than talking about my emotions. How easily the hate comes out. How I can’t control the shit I say and the shit I do sometimes.
Well, maybe not so much that I can’t, but that I don’t want to.
“There’s this girl,” I start telling him while I pick up a fidget block from the glass coffee table. It’s pointless. A block of buttons and switches that do nothing, but it keeps my hands busy.
“She’s real flirtatious and cute. We have chemistry together.” After seeing his brow raise, I add to clarify, “The class.” It’s quiet as he scribbles on the notepad.
“I keep running into her,” I tell him. “I guess she’s on my mind because of that.”
