one...
"I guess I could go back to school."
That's a great idea!
"We'll see what happens."
No, don't see what happens! Make it happen!
"I'll see you tomorrow, Max," and I hear her footsteps dim and
disappear...
"Good to see you, Max," says a woman whose name I know only by
writing strewn across her door: Dr. Lisa Trevor. "How are you?"
"Okay," I mutter, closing the door behind me as I walk into the
room, searching for a suitable place to sit down. "How are you?"
"I'm very well, thank you for asking!"
"Where should I sit?" I finally ask.
"Right there is fine," and she motions at a blue chair across
from her desk. It is big and cushioned and looks extremely
comfortable for office furniture.
I sit.
"So, tell me a little about why you're here?"
"I don't know," I whisper.
She looks confused.
"You don't know?"
"No." I truly don't...
"Then what brings you to my office?"
She is tapping a pen on her cheek.
"I guess I just wanted to talk."
"What would you like to talk about?"
"I don't know," and suddenly I feel quite silly.
I should know...
"Then let's start by talking a little about your home life. Are
you married?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"Fourteen years, this winter."
"That's a long time."
"Not long enough," with a quick smile, then no more, my eyes on
the floor. She makes me nervous.
"Are you happy?"
"Are we happy?" I echo her.
"Yes, are you happy, with her, with each other?"
"Yes, very. She's a perfect wife."
The tapping stops. "Perfect?"
I nod, softly, continuously. "Perfect."
"Well, you must be a lucky man!"
"I certainly am," my eyes still on the ground.
"Do you have any children?"
More nodding. "A son. Brian."
"How old?"
"He's..." I pause, doing quick math. "Nine."
"That's a good-"
"No, wait..." My hand up, my head shaking out the cobwebs. "Ten.
He's ten."
She nods.
"He's ten," I repeat.
"How is he?"
"He's..." I smirk, shake my head. "He's a much smarter boy
than I ever was. So very smart."
"You seem very proud."
"I am. Very proud."
I'm still smiling.
"Okay," and she wipes a strand of hair behind her ears. "What
do you do for a living?"
"I'm... in between jobs now," I admit.
"Were you laid off?"
"Not exactly," I confess.
"What happened?"
"Well," I grumble, not wanting to admit the truth, to anyone,
much less a stranger. "I just..."
"It's okay, Max."
"What?" I finally catch my eyes to hers.
"Whatever it is, it's okay."
"How can you know that?"
"Because you can tell me anything."
"Can I? Are you sure of that?"
"I am." She sounds so very confident.
I sigh, rub my chin, run my fingers through my hair, cupping my
ears. "Well," I start, taking another deep breath. "I was
caught by my manager under the influence... on the job."
"Oh, I see," and she stops tapping and starts writing on
something laying across her desk, furiously. "What were you under
the influence of?"
"Pain killers."
"Why were you on pain killers?"
"Originally, for a broken leg."
"Why didn't you stop?"
I shrug. "It hurt."
"Your leg? Does it hurt now?"
"Sometimes," I lie.
"Are you still on pain killers?"
"No."
"How did you get clean?"
"I just... stopped..." And I shrug.
"Cold turkey?"
"Yep," and I nod, slowly, bobbing up and down.
"That's impressive!"
"I suppose."
"How did you do it?"
I cough, adjust in my seat. "I... had an incident. I ended up in
the emergency room, almost dead."
"What happened?"
"I just... took way too much, and then I couldn't remember how
much I'd taken, and took more. I passed out and woke up to my
father."
"Your father?"
"I don't know why he was there."
I'm now looking to the left, very left, avoiding her eyes as
fiercely and deliberately as possible.
"Why did you take so much?"
"To kill the pain."
She shakes her head. "The pain would be long gone by the time you
took enough to overdose. You were killing another pain, weren't you?"
I chortle. "You mean emotional pain?"
"Yes, I do."
I stop chuckling, sniffle, rub my cheeks. Eyes back to the floor, I
run my
"I guess I could go back to school."
That's a great idea!
"We'll see what happens."
No, don't see what happens! Make it happen!
"I'll see you tomorrow, Max," and I hear her footsteps dim and
disappear...
"Good to see you, Max," says a woman whose name I know only by
writing strewn across her door: Dr. Lisa Trevor. "How are you?"
"Okay," I mutter, closing the door behind me as I walk into the
room, searching for a suitable place to sit down. "How are you?"
"I'm very well, thank you for asking!"
"Where should I sit?" I finally ask.
"Right there is fine," and she motions at a blue chair across
from her desk. It is big and cushioned and looks extremely
comfortable for office furniture.
I sit.
"So, tell me a little about why you're here?"
"I don't know," I whisper.
She looks confused.
"You don't know?"
"No." I truly don't...
"Then what brings you to my office?"
She is tapping a pen on her cheek.
"I guess I just wanted to talk."
"What would you like to talk about?"
"I don't know," and suddenly I feel quite silly.
I should know...
"Then let's start by talking a little about your home life. Are
you married?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"Fourteen years, this winter."
"That's a long time."
"Not long enough," with a quick smile, then no more, my eyes on
the floor. She makes me nervous.
"Are you happy?"
"Are we happy?" I echo her.
"Yes, are you happy, with her, with each other?"
"Yes, very. She's a perfect wife."
The tapping stops. "Perfect?"
I nod, softly, continuously. "Perfect."
"Well, you must be a lucky man!"
"I certainly am," my eyes still on the ground.
"Do you have any children?"
More nodding. "A son. Brian."
"How old?"
"He's..." I pause, doing quick math. "Nine."
"That's a good-"
"No, wait..." My hand up, my head shaking out the cobwebs. "Ten.
He's ten."
She nods.
"He's ten," I repeat.
"How is he?"
"He's..." I smirk, shake my head. "He's a much smarter boy
than I ever was. So very smart."
"You seem very proud."
"I am. Very proud."
I'm still smiling.
"Okay," and she wipes a strand of hair behind her ears. "What
do you do for a living?"
"I'm... in between jobs now," I admit.
"Were you laid off?"
"Not exactly," I confess.
"What happened?"
"Well," I grumble, not wanting to admit the truth, to anyone,
much less a stranger. "I just..."
"It's okay, Max."
"What?" I finally catch my eyes to hers.
"Whatever it is, it's okay."
"How can you know that?"
"Because you can tell me anything."
"Can I? Are you sure of that?"
"I am." She sounds so very confident.
I sigh, rub my chin, run my fingers through my hair, cupping my
ears. "Well," I start, taking another deep breath. "I was
caught by my manager under the influence... on the job."
"Oh, I see," and she stops tapping and starts writing on
something laying across her desk, furiously. "What were you under
the influence of?"
"Pain killers."
"Why were you on pain killers?"
"Originally, for a broken leg."
"Why didn't you stop?"
I shrug. "It hurt."
"Your leg? Does it hurt now?"
"Sometimes," I lie.
"Are you still on pain killers?"
"No."
"How did you get clean?"
"I just... stopped..." And I shrug.
"Cold turkey?"
"Yep," and I nod, slowly, bobbing up and down.
"That's impressive!"
"I suppose."
"How did you do it?"
I cough, adjust in my seat. "I... had an incident. I ended up in
the emergency room, almost dead."
"What happened?"
"I just... took way too much, and then I couldn't remember how
much I'd taken, and took more. I passed out and woke up to my
father."
"Your father?"
"I don't know why he was there."
I'm now looking to the left, very left, avoiding her eyes as
fiercely and deliberately as possible.
"Why did you take so much?"
"To kill the pain."
She shakes her head. "The pain would be long gone by the time you
took enough to overdose. You were killing another pain, weren't you?"
I chortle. "You mean emotional pain?"
"Yes, I do."
I stop chuckling, sniffle, rub my cheeks. Eyes back to the floor, I
run my
Similar Books
