Confusion has him frowning. “Then why go?”
“Because I have to. It keeps the parentals happy.” I shrug. My parents and I made an agreement afterthe incident, as they like to call it. I live at home for one full semester. I attend classes. Get good grades. And I go to therapy twice a week. I tried to get out of that last one, but they were sticklers and I didn’t care enough to fight them on it.
“Therapy is good, right? It helps?” The way he says it lets me know he himself isn’t a fan. But it’s sweet that he wants to be supportive.
“Not really. For therapy to work, you have to trust your therapist. Be willing to open up. Share your secrets. Bare your soul. All that jazz.”
His eyes flick between mine, looking for something. “So get a different therapist.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Why not?”
Huh. I don’t know. I never really gave much thought to it before now. “My parents picked this one.”
“So? Do they go to the sessions with you?”
I shake my head. It’s bad enough when I’m alone, I can only imagine how much worse it’d be if either of my parents joined me.
“Then it doesn’t matter who they pick or who they want. If you’re going to therapy, it’s for you, not them. Find someone else.” It’s not a bad idea.
DidI mention I hate therapy?
“Cecilia?
Like really, really, whole bodily hate it.
“Cecilia?”
If I could climb under my covers, curl into a ball, and not wake up, I would, just so I never had to come here again.
“Cecilia?”
My eyes flick to hers before quickly looking away, but not before catching sight of the deep frown etched into her face. I smile to myself. Dr. Tabitha Walker used to wear this serene mask on her face during our sessions. I’ve dubbed it hereverything is sunshine and rainbowsexpression.
No matter how long I ignored her, it never slipped. It was like remaining tranquil was her super power. I was sorta jealous of that. Of her ability to mask her frustration. Her impatience. Because she’s not a robot and I’m not an idiot. I know when I’m being rude and annoying.
I’ll give it to her, though. She made it longer than I thought she would. But all good things must come to an end, and six weeks into our sessions, her mask has slipped.
Dr. Walker taps her pen against her notebook. A sign of her growing impatience.“Cecilia, are you listening to me?” Her voiceis filled with exasperation. I check the clock. Five more minutes and she’ll call it, ending our session fifteen minutes early to put an end to the silence.
I sigh and look out the window. I can ignore her for five more minutes.
“Cecilia, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
I don’t want her help. I’ve said so before. She just doesn’t listen.
“Wouldn’t you like to get better?”
Unable to help myself, I snort. What kind of question is that? Of course I want to get better. Does she think I enjoy this? I don’t. But, I’ve been coming here for six weeks and not once after an appointment do I ever feel better.
She can’t fix me. I used to think no one could. But things are getting better. Gabriel and Felix and Julio, they make everything a little better.
“How’s school going?”
It’s an innocent enough question, but I know what this attempt at small talk is and I’m not falling for it.
“Are you enjoying your classes?”
