“You see his hairline?” this nigga whispered.
Ignoring Zoo, I tried not to focus on Dr. Holiday’s hairline, which was talking to the back of his neck.
“I’m Dr. Holiday! Who’s Mr. Smith?”
“We’re both Mr. Smith. I’m Brooklyn, this is my cousin, Zeus.”
“Perfect! I see you’re here because you’re having some issues with anger.” Dr. Holiday sat, flipped open my empty chart, pulled out a piece of paper, and started scribbling shit on it. I hadn’t opened my mouth yet.
“Yeah,” I simply answered.
“How long have you noticed you’ve had issues with anger?”
Zoo grunted.
“A few years,” I vaguely answered.
“What happens when you’re angry?”
I remained quieter than a church mouse, and so did Zoo.
“Do you find yourself enraged? Do you become combative?”
“Nah, I go off into myself.”
Zoo pointedly stared at me. His eyes burned a hole in the side of my face. Dr. Holiday nodded his head as if my word was law.
“When you go into that place, how do you feel?”
Again, Zoo’s eyes bored into me. His eyebrows lifted in question.
“Exhausted,” I answered.
“Exhausted with life?” Doc asked.
Frustrated, Zoo huffed. “Look, mane. My cousin ain’t suicidal, aight? He’s angry. He just gets mad as hell and needs some assistance on how to deal with his anger. Don’t be in here tryna plant no seed in his head that heissuicidal. ‘Cause if something happens to him, I’m comin’ after—”
I elbowed Zoo hard as fuck to stop him from threatening the damn doc whose weird-looking ass looked like he was about to shit himself.
“Sure… Let’s move on.”
Doc continued asking questions, and I answered the best way I could without implicating myself in anything illegal. Every so often, Zoo shook his head or grunted at whatever I said. His ass wasn’t any damn help.
My session ended with Dr. Holiday wanting to see me back in two weeks. I wasn’t sure if I’d come back or not, but if this was the only way to keep Bronx happy, I was going to endure this shit.
Back in the lobby, the receptionist handed me my appointment card.
“Excuse me, Sir,” she said to Zoo, who was on his way out of the door. He came back to the desk with a funky expression. “Dr. Holiday told me to give you this.” She handed Zoo a card that resembled mine.
“The fuck,” he mumbled. “I’ain ask for no appointment.” He tried to hand the appointment card back to the receptionist, but she declined it.
“Can you please tell me your date of birth?” she requested, unfazed by the mug on Zoo’s face.
I rambled off his birth date, chuckling to myself because his ass got himself into this.
“Alrighty, you’re all set.” She smiled chipperly, not realizing Zoo was about to come across her desk.
Grabbing Zoo’s shirt, I dragged him out of the building. That’s what his ass got! As for myself, I guess counseling wasn’t too bad.
