“Good.” I’ve learned not to ask him how he is; he’s made it clear that this time is for me. We both sit, him on his boxy square armchair and me lying back on the lounger.
“So…have you done everything I asked?” he questions me.
“Of course.”
“You haven’t been drinking?”
“Not one bit,” I blatantly lie.
“And you haven’t been looking up Arion and Bain online?”
I shake my head, embarrassed that at one point I did become a bit obsessed, but at least this answer is honest. And that is progress.
“So what’s new then? It sounds like things are going really well.”
“Well, not really. My mom’s health isn’t doing so well,” and I explain what we’ve been going through with that. He looks genuinely sympathetic, and I do appreciate that about ol’ Roger.
“I’m sorry to hear that. How does that make you feel?”
“Helpless. Like I just can’t do shit for her when she needs me most. It’s fucking awful.”
“What else?”
“Angry. I found her when she’d collapsed and it was really hard to see her that way.”
“Did it trigger any flashbacks from Afghanistan? Or otherwise?”
“It was a combination of everything: Arion, the war, and then really morbid thoughts of my mom.”
“I see,” he says to himself, taking methodical notes while we talk. “Have you been practicing your breathing exercises?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Why do you think you hold on to that moment with Arion so much?”
“I don’t know, probably because I feel responsible. It’s the same with my mom. Since I’ve been working so much, I wasn’t home to take care of her. Maybe, if I was there all day, I could have noticed the signs of her body declining.”
“You need to know that what happened with your mom is not your fault. You don’t have a crystal ball. You make the best decisions you can in each moment with the information you have right then, and you can’t be angry with your past self for not knowing what the future would hold.”
I adjust myself in my seat and nod my head, doing my best to process his words.
“Nathaniel, you’re a fixer. You take on everyone else’s problems to try and make them better. It helps you give the illusion of control and makes you feel safer, but it’s not really control. While in the process, you’re only neglecting yourself and what makes you happy.”
“It’s how I’ve always been, I put others first…plain and simple.”
“Have you noticed whether you’re more that way since coming home?”
“Maybe. Probably,” I admit.
“Then what about you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Until you’re not, then what?” I shrug my shoulders. “You’ve had to work really hard to get past the aftermath of what happened to you. I’d hate for you to have a setback because you’re too busy worrying about others, opening yourself up for your symptoms to come roaring back.”
“I won’t.” I snap. “I don’t want to relive being treated like an animal, beaten, starved, and tortured, all right? I think I’m doing fine on my own.”
“Nathaniel, please trust me on this.”
“I’m sorry, Roger, I can’t.”
He nods his head and drops the subject – for now – but given a little more time he’ll bring it up again. How is putting others first a fucking crime?
“How’s your sleep been?”
“Good,” I lie. Knowing it’s only from the liquor, and if I’m not drunk, I don’t sleep for shit.
“Are you taking the Ambien Dr. Remington prescribed you?”
“Nah, I haven’t had too for a while now.”
He stops writing and looks at me. Like he’s reading into what I am saying.
“Are you still seeing Andrea?”
“I am.”
“Is she still with her boyfriend?”
I nod my head. Roger doesn’t agree with my decision to be with her, and is the one that called me on my bullshit in the first place, seeing how I was using her. Quite frankly, sometimes I don’t agree with it either. But my dick wants what it wants and I’ll tell you my hand is not enough to satisfy it. Plus, her boyfriend is a goddamn loser. At least this is the shit I tell myself.
“Nathaniel, may I be blunt?”
“By all means,” I egg him on.
“What is the point of your life?”
I stare at him shocked. The old bastard has some fucking nerve.
“That’s what I want you to think about until our next visit. What is Nathaniel Wilcox’s purpose in life?”
That man has some motherfucking balls. Driving to Elania’s office, I’m agitated and could use a drink. His off-the-wall statement just keeps ringing in my head. What is the point of my life? Fuck, if I only knew, I sure as hell wouldn’t be seeing him. Why do I need to tell him anyways? My purpose is my business. I do my best to let it go, but still in the back of my mind, it nags me.
Pulling up to Elania’s office, she is standing outside and looks pissed.
“You’re late,” she barks at me.
“I’m sorry, I had an appointment on the other side of town and I didn’t take traffic into account. I should have called you.”
“Yes, you should have.”