These are all things Mika should have conveyed when suggesting his brother.
I could have handled the bored, uninterested brother.
I could have worked with the hipster vibe.
But the lip ring? What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
The elevator dings as the doors part, opening up to a serene office space: white walls, white furniture, calming music, and plants everywhere. It feels like we’re walking into a couples massage rather than couples counseling.
“You must be Scottie,” the receptionist says as she stands from her desk. “We’re ready for you.”
“Oh, uh, great,” I say as I move forward.
“Can I get you anything to drink before you enter your session?”
“Water would be great,” I say.
“Do you have any Coke Zero?” Wilder asks.
“We do.”
“I would love one. Thank you.”
“Of course. Let me show you into Sanders’s office, and then I’ll bring you your drinks.”
“Thank you,” I say as we follow her down to the end of a hallway.
She knocks on the door three times and then pushes it open, revealing…
What the hell is this?
“Please take a seat on the leather couch. Sanders will be right in.”
We both shuffle past stacks and stacks of boxes, across a brown rug, right to a brown leather couch that is worn and torn in every manner. Tears in the seat. Tears in the couch arms. Even in the back cushions. Above the couch is a framed Knicks jersey, signed by who knows, as well as a Mets pin-striped jersey.
Mets, really?
You live in New York City, and you’re going to be a Mets fan when the Yankees are the clear option? Not sure Sanders can be trusted.
The rest of the office is filled with boxes, some opened, some sealed shut. Some are in pristine condition; some have seen the inner depths of postal hell. There is a desk tucked back in the corner that is covered in files and a computer and keyboard that has not been stroked since at least 1995. Chipped and stained floating shelves hang unevenly around the room and are decked out in sports memorabilia ranging from signed and encased basketballs to what I can only assume is a size twenty-two basketball shoe to a few hockey sticks and even some Jets footballs.
Okay, now I really know he can’t be trusted.
“Jets,” I mumble to Wilder. “Out of all the football teams to choose from, and he chooses the Jets?”
“Shows resilience,” Wilder says. “Because who would really be able to survive that kind of suffering without a heavy dose of enduring tenacity?”
I mean, he has a point. No one can be tortured for that long without building at least an ounce of resilience.
“This, um, arsenal of athletic archives was not what I was expecting when I was told Sanders is the cream of the crop of marriage counselors. Especially given the design aesthetic of the front of the office.”
Wilder scratches his jaw. “Think he’s going to pass around a hockey stick that must be held in order to talk? Because I’d be down with that.”
Seems like Wilder would be down for anything.
Before I can answer him, a door off to the left opens, and an average-size man in navy blue basketball shorts and a hot pink Hawaiian shirt walks into the office. His beard is peppered with gray, laugh lines define his face, and the sideways baseball hat he’s wearing is giving moreFresh Prince of Bel Airrather than esteemed marriage counselor of the Northeast.
This is Ellison’s husband?
