This was Joey's stupid idea. I was sitting in this therapists office, sitting in this green pleather chair with wooden arm rests. He was behind the desk. He had a narrow face and he wore a casual suit, like one of those people that used to go around selling Bibles or something.
"I don't want to talk abut this," I said. He'd asked about my father. What was the good in talking about this?
"Craig, you have a complicated relationship with your dad, it might help to talk about it," he said, looking at me with this sympathy that made me want to puke.
"How is talking about it going to help?" I said, and he just looked at me.
"It will help you to work through it-"
"How? By bringing it all up again? Talking about it is like reliving it. Why would I want to do that?" He had no answer. They never did. I knew Joey was sort of trying to help but what no one realized was that they couldn't help. There was no way to help.
"Okay. We don't have to talk about your father. How about Joey?" He had all these little nick nacks on his desk, little figurines and tiny sand trays and those five hanging balls that could click together. I stared at all that stuff. It was easier than looking at him.
"What about Joey?" I said, and I wished my time here was up. This is what sucked about being 14. Other people get to tell you what you have to do.
"How do you like living with him? How are things between the two of you? Any problems?" He said all this stuff and then leaned back and patiently waited for me to respond. And I thought about it. Joey. Well, he didn't beat the shit out me like my dad did, so that was a good thing. And he was less serious. You could fuck up and Joey wasn't going to look at you like it was the end of the world. I didn't have that wound up tight feeling, that feeling like I could hardly breathe. I didn't feel like that around Joey.
"Things are fine," I said. I just didn't want to talk to this guy. Tell him my deep dark secrets. Like, I couldn't tell him that I thought my mom left because of me, and now that she was dead and I was older and sort of realized she left because of my dad I couldn't shake the earlier belief. And I couldn't shake the belief that if I'd been a better kid and not such a terrible kid my dad wouldn't have hit me. And I couldn't tell him that me staying at Joey's was only temporary and that I'd go back with my dad and probably nothing would change. Oh, he'd probably be good for awhile. But old patterns would resurface, I knew they would. So it was just a matter of time before I'd be right back where I started. And I couldn't tell him that I felt like an outsider at Joey's, like I just stayed at some guy's house. He was Angie's father but he was my dead mother's husband. That was it. I wanted the connection to be deeper but it wasn't. I knew I didn't really belong with them. I was like a refugee from some bloody war torn country, and they were sheltering me. And that sucked.
"Do you ever think Joey could hurt you?" he said. Crafty little question. I hated these guys.
"No. Hurt me like hit me? No. Joey wouldn't do that," There. Maybe that answered his question. I glanced at the clock, wondering where we were in our 50 minute hour. Not far enough.
"How about Angela?" he said, and I didn't quite get what he meant.
"What about Angela? Joey would never hurt her, of course not. Look, I'm not crazy. It was my dad. He hurt me, not Joey. I know that. I'm not generalizing it to all parental figures or father figures or authority figures or whatever. Okay?" He just nodded. Mild mannered. Like Clark Kent. But these guys didn't fool me. They were superman somewhere underneath. They knew what to say to get a reaction. All that voodoo psychology that they studied. And damn him, now I thought of how I did fear Joey. If I screwed up somehow and I knew whatever it was would make my dad angry, I'd be all nervous until I was sure that Joey wouldn't have the same reaction. And sudden movements from almost anyone had me flinch away, I was all jumpy. Even when my dad wasn't around, and I knew it was some kind of animal conditioning. Sudden movements at my dad's house resulted in pain and fear. Beatings. So I had generalized it to any and all sudden movements despite knowing if my fucking father wasn't around I'd probably be okay. So that sucked, too. Damn Joey for making me come and see this guy.