Standing outside the brick office building I wanted to stomp my foot and cross my arms over my chest. Suddenly, I was ten years old again and I knew exactly what was coming. Lots of questions, lots of bullshit suggestions. I wanted none of it.
Flynn stood, not so patiently, just outside the door, frowning at me.
“My meeting is in ten minutes. I like to go inside and have a glass of water and read the new magazines. I always do that,” Flynn said, his hands jammed in his pockets and I knew it was so he wouldn’t rub them together. My attitude was clearly bugging him.
My feet wouldn’t budge. I wasn’t moving.
I think I very well may be on the brink of a panic attack. I had therapyphobia. Was that a thing? Because I thought it definitely should be.
Flynn let out a grunt of frustrated annoyance and then left me outside. He literally slammed the screen door in my face.
I took a deep breath and finally went inside. Flynn was standing at the water cooler, filling a plastic cup. The receptionist looked up at me as I entered.
I jerked my thumb in Flynn’s direction. “I’m with him,” I muttered, ducking my head and sitting down quickly. I wanted to blend into the upholstery and not be noticed. The waiting room was uncomfortably full.
Was ittalk to a shrinkday and I hadn’t realized it?
I had never been to Wheeling before. I had lived my entire life less than thirty minutes away and this was my first time here. Too bad it was too see a freaking therapist. I was feeling grumbly and cantankerous.
Flynn came over and sat down beside me. He sipped on his water and picked up a magazine that lay on the small table in front of him. He skimmed through the pages before dropping it and picking up another one. He never said anything. He was completely engrossed in his routine.
“Maybe I would have liked some water,” I remarked, embracing my surliness.
Flynn handed me his full cup. “We can share,” he offered but I shook my head.
“I thought you were thirsty,” he replied.
“Never mind,” I huffed.
I started tapping my fingers on my leg nervously. Flynn glanced at me, obviously irritated. “Can you stop that?” he asked sharply.
I curled my fingers into my palm and bit down on my lip. Why was I so worried? What did I think was going to happen? That Leonard, super shrink, was going to cut open my head and pull out all of my horrible, ugly secrets?
I was being ridiculous. But something about being there triggered an instantaneous fight or flight response. It reminded me too much of being a little girl, sitting in waiting rooms just like this, with a frazzled social worker beside me, hoping one day I’d be all better.
“Flynn,” a male voice said from across the room. Flynn didn’t get to his feet right away. He continued to look through the magazine in his hand.
“Flynn, I think you’re being called,” I whispered. Flynn ignored me, thumbing through the rest of the pages.
Only when he was finished did he put the magazine back on the pile on the table and got to his feet. He looked at me and nodded his head towards the man waiting for him. “That’s Leonard,” he said and I was surprised. Leonard looked nothing like I expected.
The therapist was much younger than I had imagined him being. I remembered the counselors I had seen as a child looking positively ancient. But Leonard appeared to be in his mid-thirties with thick, brown hair and kind eyes that matched his blue shirt. He sported a hipster beard, groomed and immaculate. He was good looking in a totally non-threatening way and when Flynn and I approached him, he moved aside, waving us into the office behind him with a smile.
“Flynn, good to see you,” he greeted, his voice deep and pleasant.
Flynn didn’t respond. He simply walked into Leonard’s office, and I followed, wondering how far I’d get if I made a run for it. Leonard closed the door behind us and went to have a seat on a comfortable looking armchair.
“You must be Ellie. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Leonard said and I actually thought he meant it. He didn’t put out his hand for me to shake and he didn’t seem to expect me to respond. He was completely casual and laid back. Like the kind of guy you’d go have a beer with.
That is if you wanted to have a beer with a therapist who was waiting to pick you a part.
I didn’t smile. My face felt frozen. I joined Flynn on the small love seat that was pushed against the far wall. Flynn immediately repositioned the cushions and then proceeded to take his shoes off, tucking his feet under the couch.
What in the world? Was there some sort of rule about taking off your shoes? Should I take mine off? I didn’t like the thought of sitting around in my socks.
“You don’t need to take your shoes off, Ellie. Flynn likes to because it makes him feel more comfortable when he’s here. It’s not a requirement.” Leonard explained. His voice, smooth and low made me want to curl up and take a nap. How in the hell did Flynn stay conscious talking to him for an hour?
“Why do you take your shoes off?” I asked Flynn. He was sitting up, perfectly straight, his hands folded in his lap and his sock covered feet flat on the floor.
