I snatch my jacket back, putting it on as I get out of the car. I walk toward the boxy clinic, which looks less like a serious institution and more like a daycare for future criminals currently still in diapers—gray bricks, garden-green window frames, and a dark blue door with sunrays painted around the knob. I don’t get what they’re going for, but I wish my parents’ insurance offered more than this.
As I walk in, I determine the best spot for me in the waiting room. I go for the chair on the wall opposite the entrance because the desk clerk and offices are all to my right from this position. Spread out on the table are bullshit tabloid magazines. A mother-type sitting next to the potted plant is reading a newspaper. There were a couple of times I tried getting into the newspaper after Theo and I broke up, because of something he said while we were dating: “Some people know a lot about a little, others know a little about a lot.”
I wanted to be more like him, someone who knew a little about a lot, so our conversations would never lose steam, so we could learn what makes this universe tick together. Pointless.
Dad walks in and heads straight for the counter, glancing my way like I’m someone who cut in front of him in line. I’ve seen his frustration a lot since getting home. I keep resisting his good guy–ness because I don’t deserve it, and that pisses him off. Dad signs me in and sits quietly next to me, to my right, picking up some magazine and flipping past pages of celebrity gossip and who wore the dress better until he finds the film reviews.
“Maybe we can go see a movie this weekend? Invite Wade?”
“No thanks,” I tell Dad.
The secretary peeks over her counter. “Griffin Jennings?”
She waves me toward an open door. Thankfully Theo is no longer around, because I wouldn’t want him following me into this appointment. Therapy is supposed to be private, and it’s hard to be fully open with a stranger as it is, let alone with my ex-boyfriend watching my every move.
I let myself in, closing the door behind me. “I’m Griffin,” I say.
The doctor comes out from around the desk. He has this otherworldly, wise-man thing going for him, with the streaks of gray in his jet-black hair and sideburns. His light-orange eyeglass frames are so distracting, I’m tempted to ask him to take them off, but striking him blind won’t do me any favors this session. He’s here to listen, and he’s here to rewire me.
“Good morning, Griffin. I’m Dr. Anderson, but feel free to call me Peter.”
There are five letters in Peter. I’m going to keep it formal with him.
Dr. Anderson invites me to have a seat wherever I’m comfortable.
I’m the compass arrow, trying to find my true north. There’s a blue chair, which is inviting, as well as a deep-green couch, which was Theo’s favorite color. Dr. Anderson sits in front of his desk with excellent posture. That spot is great because I consider that direction to be true north since it’s his office. I stand between the chair and couch, torn. “I’m going to stand for a bit,” I decide.
Dr. Anderson shifts to the edge of his seat. “Perfectly fine. Should I join you?”
“No.” He’s a few inches taller than me and is intimidating enough.
“Shall we begin? Care for a glass of water?”
His desire to make me comfortable is only making me anxious. I want to be able to talk to him because I have no one else, but I can already feel an itch in the center of my palm. “Let’s just do this.”
Dr. Anderson relaxes back into his seat. “Your parents have filled me in on everything you’ve been going through lately,” he says gently. “I’d love to hear everything from you.”
This is impossible because they don’t know everything. They don’t know I played a role in Theo’s death, and they don’t know everything I’ve been up to since breaking up with him. My face warms up. I scratch at my palm and pull at my earlobe. I turn away from Dr. Anderson, staring at the wall so he’s now to my right. I want to punch all the stupid certificates that supposedly credit him with powers to heal me. I want to tear the clock away that’s simultaneously crawling and rushing me.
This is not going to help. Dr. Anderson has as many true powers as a street magician. He’s just a dude with card tricks and hidden wires.
But I know I’ve been lying to myself, too. I know Theo is still out there, watching me. He’s followed me into his room, and this can’t be how he finds everything out.
I have to tell him myself.
Saturday, December 17th, 2016
I’m ready to talk again, Theo.