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“I’m sorry I got angry.”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees again. “I’ll let you into a little secret—I get angry too, sometimes.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Most guys do. You know what testosterone is?”
“It’s a hormone?”
“That’s right. Your mum’s told you about what happens during puberty?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Boys’ bodies produce thirty times more testosterone when they enter puberty.”
His eyes widen. “Really? Wow.”
“It makes you grow tall and strong, it deepens your voice, and it makes hair grow everywhere. But it also changes your behavior and mood. It makes you feel angry and fed up and frustrated. It’s normal, and it’s happened to every guy you know. But being grown up is about learning how to handle those feelings. Being an adult is about staying in control of your temper, your behavior, and your language. Does that make sense?”
He nods. He’s quiet for a minute, and I take the lid off my water and have a few mouthfuls. When I look back at him, he’s watching me.
“Dad had a temper,” he says.
I meet his eyes. Slowly, I put the lid back on the bottle.
“A lot of men do,” I say carefully.
“He shouted a lot,” Finn says. “He used to get really angry when things didn’t work. You know, cars and computers.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want to have a temper,” he says.
“Well, it’s good that you recognize that. Once we understand the things that frustrate us, we can work on how we react to those feelings. We had a male teacher at school in our Health class who used to tell us ‘out of reaction and into observation’. It means learning to recognize when those angry feelings start bubbling up, and analyzing them and working out why we feel that way. He’d tell us ‘to turn and walk away’ if we were upset or angry.”
“Don’t tell Mum,” Finn says, his brows drawing together. “She doesn’t like me talking about it to people.”
“I won’t. It’ll just be a secret between us, okay?”
He hesitates, his eyes meeting mine.
I debate whether to say anything. I’m not a therapist, and I can’t imagine Missie would be happy with me talking to her son about this.
But I can see he wants to talk, and he told me a few sessions ago that he doesn’t like his therapist. He said Missie doesn’t have any brothers, and it doesn’t sound as if he sees his dad’s family much. Most primary-school teachers are women. Who else is the kid supposed to talk to?
“How did his anger manifest?” I ask gently. “Did he just yell?”
“He threw things. He punched a hole in the wall once. And he kicked over the table.”
I let it fall quiet for a moment. Then I say, “Was he ever physical… with you?”
“No.”
“With your mum?”
“Sometimes.”
Ah, jeez.
