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You’re going to give me grey hairs, I swear. What thing? It better not be illegal. Who was the guest?
Me:
You know I can’t say because we have those NDAs but no it was nothing illegal so your hair’s safe
Rory:
Without anything else to go on, all I can suggest is that you talk to them. I’m assuming that this is something to do with a woman, knowing you. I feel the need to remind you that you’re not there on holiday, you’re there to learn how to get on with your teammate. How is Theo anyway?
Doing his best to avoid me.
Me:
He’s fine. Thanks for the help. How’s everything at home? Did my Offside issue come out? I guarantee it’ll be their biggest seller this year
Rory:
Your ego knows no bounds. But no it hasn’t come out yet. When it does I’ll buy you a copy
Me:
Thanks for the help. Got to go to my therapy session now. Wish me luck
Rory:
You don’t need luck. Take care of yourself J
Me:
You too
Pocketing my phone, I scanned my wristband to enter the main building and made my way to Dr. Weaver’s office.
As soon as she asked me if I wanted to share any of the names from the list in my notebook and why they were important to me, I found Theo’s name coming out of my mouth. What the fuck was that all about?
“He thinks I’m a brainless, cocky asshole. Sorry for swearing. He’s made a lot of comments about me being shallow and a poser and, y’know, insinuating that the only thing I’m interested in is myself, which isn’t true at all.”
Dr. Weaver scribbled something on her notepad and then studied me from behind her wire-framed glasses. “Why do you believe that he has those thoughts about you?”
Instead of letting more words escape unchecked, I thought about it. “I post a lot of selfies, and I put a lot of effort into making myself look good, I guess. I also landed an endorsement for an underwear brand when I first signed with the team, and I suppose that didn’t help. Then there’re the tabloid stories.” I gritted my teeth as I thought about the headlines. “They like to paint me as a shallow party boy with a grudge against Theo.”
“What do you believe?” Her tone was gentle, and there was no judgement in her eyes.
“I…I think that I am those things. But I think there’s more to me.” Biting down on my bottom lip, I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Therehasto be more to me. Thatcan’tbe all that I am.” To my horror, my voice cracked, and I blinked rapidly, desperately trying to hang on to the fraying threads of my composure.
Dr. Weaver thankfully remained silent while I gathered myself. When I eventually sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, giving her a small nod, her lips curved upwards.
“There’s so much more to you, Jordan. The picture you’ve painted is…a simplistic scene. Every single human is made up of many complex layers, and there are always far greater depths beneath the surface.” Tapping her pen on her pad, she hummed. “I’d like to use an iceberg analogy because it’s easy to picture. Let’s imagine, for a moment, that you are an iceberg. Someone may look at you and see the parts of you that are visible on the surface. What do you think those might be, if it were someone who didn’t know you?”
“I guess…if they knew of me…then probably the things I already mentioned, and me being a footballer?”
She gave me an encouraging smile. “Now, have you ever seen a diagram or photograph of an iceberg? The view from the surface is only a tiny fraction of its mass. It goes far beneath the waterline, into the deep, layer upon layer of ice, all packed tightly together, strong and solid in the depths of the ocean.”
I exhaled harshly, her meaning hitting me all at once.
Tears filled my eyes once again.
* * *
