I tried to calm myself down from my rant. I understood parents had to work and all, but just one fucking track meet was all I was asking for. It was like pulling teeth to get it.
Elijah: What are your celebratory plans for this evening? Out with friends?
Why did my life seem so pathetic and even more shitty? I’d love to have a really close friend to drive around with and maybe we would go get something to eat and hang out somewhere. But I was home alone with a fucking Lunchable.
Elijah: Brandon?
I started to type out that my friends were coming over and that we were probably going to swim and get some food delivered. Just before I hit send, I remembered that he said everything that I told him was between us. I deleted what I had written and tried to be honest.
Brandon: I’m not doing anything tonight. I took a shower, ate my dinner, and I’ll probably go to bed soon. Maybe I’ll play some Madden. I have lots to occupy my time with.
I expected him to tell me to enjoy myself and kind of give me the brush off for the night, but he didn’t do that. Instead, his next text message made me feel like he truly understood me.
Elijah: It sounds like you have a lot of things. Lots of things were handed to you to make up for the time that your mother either couldn’t spend with you or didn’t want to spend with you.
Whoa, damn. My chest ached when I read that. It was true, though. I really thought he’d be one of these doctors that would tell me I was wrong and that I didn’t understand. But with that text, I felt like he did understand me, and he didn’t think I was all to blame for the issues with my mom.
Elijah: How about we’ll talk more about it on Wednesday?
Wednesday? No! I frowned and pounded on my leg, disappointed that our texting was coming to an end for the night.
3
Brandon
Sixteen-Years-Old
I staredat the downpour as my wipers glided across the windshield. My appointment with Elijah was in less than five minutes, but I was in no hurry to get out and get soaked. I checked my phone and found that the rain was expected to continue through the evening. As much as I didn’t want to, I needed to go inside. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go to the appointment; I had actually become friends with Elijah. This was now my fifth visit, and I liked having someone to talk to that gave me their attention. I just didn’t want to get wet. I pulled my hood up over my head and zipped up the front of my hoodie.
Pushing the car door open, I quickly got out and then bolted for the building. I was reminded of why it wasn’t a good idea to run between cars in a parking lot. Like an idiot, I darted out between two cars into the center drive and in front of an Escalade. I saw it right at the last second and turned my body away from it as I slipped on the wet ground and fell, landing on my ass. The tires skid to a halt, and the front bumper hit my shoulder, sending my pulse into overdrive.
“Fuuuuck!” I gritted out as I closed my eyes tightly while on the ground.
“Oh my god! Are you alright?” The lady got out of the driver’s seat of the Escalade and hurried over. “Let me call an ambulance! Oh my god!”
The woman was panicked and ran back to her SUV while I got my bearings straight. I was okay. I rolled over onto my knees and using both of my hands, I pushed myself up off the ground.
“I’m okay,” I hollered over to her.
She hurried over and asked me several times if I was okay.
“Oh my god, are you sure? How old are you? Oh my god, are you a child?”
“I’m fine. I’m nineteen,” I lied. I didn’t want her to think she hit someone under eighteen. “I’m fine. I just slipped on the slick pavement. Really, I’m fine. I just need to get inside.”
“Okay, do you want my number?”
“No, I’m fine. Sorry for the scare,” I said and walked the rest of the way to the building.
By the time I got inside, I was shaking and shivering. The receptionist commented brilliantly on me needing an umbrella.No fucking shit.Each time I’d come for the appointments, I always told the receptionist a joke. But today, I just walked toward the elevator.
“Out of jokes, dear?”
Even though I had pressed the button to call the elevator, I walked back toward the receptionist’s desk. She tilted her head to the side and stood up from her desk when I approached.
“Um, okay. Two psychotherapists walk by each other in the hall. The first one says ‘hello’ to the second one. The second one nervously smiles and nods. Once the second one gets around the corner, he says to himself, ‘I wonder whatthatwas all about.’”
“I love your jokes and look forward to you coming in each week,” the receptionist commented. Her smile slowly faded as her eyes took in my appearance. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asked.
