“I—”
“I’ll talk to you at some point later, Denny. Bye!” She ended the call before he could reply.
“What in the fuck?”
He got himself some pizza and more water and started to scroll through good therapists in Chicago. Ones that were LGBTQ-friendly, because he wouldn’t feel comfortable talking to one who wouldn’t accept Josiah and Sammie one hundred percent.
Money opened doors. That was why Denny donated a lot of money each year for LGBTQ associations, suicide prevention, animal shelters and various others causes he felt strongly about.
The money also got him an appointment in a high-rise not far from his office. The therapist was called Dr. Kenneth Jarvis, and based on his photo online, he was around Denny’s age.
The receptionist, a middle-aged woman, greeted him with a friendly smile.
“Dr. Jarvis is ready for you,” she said after he’d waited for about five minutes.
“Thank you.” He got up from the comfy seat and knocked on the door she’d pointed him toward.
“Come on in.”
Denny felt nervous stepping inside the office. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see, but it wasn’t what it ended up being.
He closed the door, taking in the room.
Dr. Jarvis chuckled. “I know, it’s a bit different.” He stood up from behind the large desk he’d been sitting behind and took a few steps to the middle of the space. “Look around, then figure out where you want to sit and I’ll follow your lead.”
Denny, feeling a bit speechless, nodded. A comfortable-looking couch with a smaller loveseat and armchair stood nearby. They were obviously a set, except the colors varied from a deep brown, to gray, then the maroon loveseat. On the left, bean bag chairs and massive pillows were scattered close to the windows, and a hammock hung in the corner. A swing chair, also by the windows, called to Denny. He did not, however, feel like starting his therapy sitting in a deep hanging chair like a kid, so he turned and went to the couch.
“If you want to, you can take off your shoes and pull your feet up on the couch there. Take off your jacket too if you want. Whatever makes your comfortable.” Dr. Jarvis spoke as he grabbed a notebook from his desk and wandered to the loveseat adjacent to the couch. He didn’t have shoes on, and pulled his own feet up, sitting as if he was at home watching TV.
Denny removed his jacket and kicked off his loafers, then tried to get comfy.
“Okay, I think I’m ready,” he said, smiling sheepishly.
“If you want anything to drink, the end table is a mini fridge.” Dr. Jarvis pointed at what Denny had thought to be a blocky table.
“Oh, thanks.” He didn’t feel like having anything, so he settled deeper into the couch.
“All right, so, from the email you sent me, you’ve had a bit of a weekend?” The gentle amusement in Dr. Jarvis’s expression let Denny know exactly what kind of a man and a therapist he was.
Something relaxed inside Denny, and he grinned tiredly. “You could say that.”
“I won’t ask about your family or childhood, you basically covered the loss of your brother in the email and we’ll get to that. But you also mentioned what you called ‘my latest failed marriage’ and a problem with your best friend. Can you tell me about those things to begin with?”
Denny sat there, talking about Kristin, he mentioned Janet and even Stacey in context, and eventually he got to Josiah. He told Dr. Jarvis how he’d met Josiah and Sammie, and how they’d become a family unit of sorts.
“And now something is wrong with Josiah?” Dr. Jarvis penned in a few notes as he glanced at Denny.
“Yes. I… I just don’t understand what it could be. Kristin and Sammie were both… vague. They implied there was something I just wasn’t seeing.”
“Okay. Now, how do you want me to approach this? Should I lead up with questions to poke you to what I think might be the right direction, or would you prefer more of a ripping off the Band-Aid style?”
Denny closed his mouth with a snap. “I… what?”
Dr. Jarvis chuckled. “See, I fully believe in the slow approach. I just think you’re distressed enough that I can give you some starting points that might help faster. They might hurt more, mind you, but… Band-Aid.”
Denny thought for a moment. He’d already been sitting on the couch for over an hour and Dr. Jarvis wasn’t going to kick him out—he’d told Denny that he was his last patient for the day.
“I think I’d appreciate the Band-Aid technique.”
