"Well sit."
The counselor signals to the plush, leather chair in front of him with a warm smile on his face. You begrudgingly sit down, trying to take as much time as possible.
The less time spent in Mr. Brooks' counseling sessions the better.
"So this is the…" He flicks threw a few pages of the clipboard in his arms, "Third session we've had."
He looks at you with that smile on his face again. The smile that says 'The school pays me for understanding, the pity is for free.'
And by God, you don't need any pity. Not now, not ever.
"You know, whenever I actually land a relationship with a girl she lets me kiss her on the third date and since this is a 'professional relationship' how about you open up to me seeing as this is our third session?"
You hold the glare. He probably worked on that joke for hours.
Part of you doesn't understand why you're so hard on the guy. It was him who put you in these stupid counseling sessions. No…that was your stupid principal's fault. And it's not like you did anything that screamed 'I NEED HELP', Principal Franklin just called you in one day and told you that you were to start counseling.
Even if you're perfectly well-adjusted.
It didn't matter. He saw something. A momentary lapse in the perfect mask you spent years refining and hiding behind. A mask that Brooks' is trying to break.
"Listen." He leans forward and above the rim of his glasses you can see his green eyes filled with concern, "I know you have trouble talking to people about…well…anything personal. I know you better than you think I do and not because I assume you're like the other kids in here, but because looking at you right now without the cover of your friends or your perfect disguise you built up…I can see you."
You stare at him, trying to take this is. You try, oh God, you try not to break down. Cos he's right, and not many people know how complex you really are. Nobody knows what your childhood was like…
"You don't know me." You manage to choke out trying to keep the sobs from your voice.
Mr. Brooks looks surprised that you actually responded to something.
"Well then...Let me know you."
He puts his books and notepads aside on the table and leans in, eyeing you closely. When you don't say anything, he mediates.
"How is iCarly going?"
"Great."
You mutter, it's a simple enough question which you provided with a simple enough answer. And it's not like you're lying because it's true, iCarly is going great and it's just about the best thing in your life right now.
"Tell me about your friends."
You look at him before answering in the same manner.
"Freddie is a bit dorky at times but he's still alright."
He smiles at you.
"What about your other friend? I heard she had a public breakup with her boyfriend he other day."
It was true. She did have a public break-up and it was the meanest you've seen her ever been.
"She's fine. She's just a bit sad over it but she's coping. I just need to protect her from jerks like…him." The poison is dripping from your words.
"Sounds like you're a good friend."
"People…think that she protects me when in actual fact she needs protecting more than anyone…" You stare at your shoes, avoiding his eyes at all costs.
He takes it as a cue to go on.
"Tell me about your parents."
"No." You answer quickly, too quickly you realize but oh well, "I don't…want to talk about them."
"If you want me to understand who you are, you need to tell me these things. Obviously your parents play a big token in your life. I want to understand that token so I can understand you."
You sigh. He wasn't going to let this go.
"My dad left a few years ago and now all I get are letters and postcards from him and my mom…"
"Your mother?" He asks a few seconds after you leave your sentence incomplete.
"She's not the same." You gulp. And it's true, probably not literally but it's hardly a lie.
"I understand. If this topic is making you uncomfortable…"
"No it's fine…It's just…"
You pause and look at him, looking for some sort of mistrust but theres only concern painted in his eyes.
"I don't talk about this. Not to anyone. Not my friends, not my teachers, not my siblings."
"You don't trust them?"
"No…" you sigh , "It's just that other people have problems and mine aren't that great."
"Kiddo, look at me." You look up into his eyes, "if you're problems aren't that great, why are you here talking to me? Not…here in this room. But here…"
There's a pause as you search for an answer. But you just crumble. You stare at your shoes hoping he doesn't see the tears in your eyes.
"People…don't see my suffering. I don't want them to. I don't want anyone to see it…"
"Why's that?"
You stand up and turn your back to him, looking at the neat stuff on his desk.
"Because…I've spent years refining this mask. Trying to create a perfect image nobody can see behind but I don't know why I just…I want somebody to see. I want somebody to know…I just…can't."
"Why's that?" I can feel his eyes on the back of my head.
"Because when people look at me, they don't see pain and anguish. They see…happiness. And that's all I want them to see. I don't want to show my real side but more and more I feel like I'm doing a bad impersonation of myself."
A beat passes…Then another.
"You don't have to hide behind your mask. It's ok to suffer, it's normal, it's human." He says, a veil of seriousness covering his face.
You sigh as you fiddle with one of the many objects on his desk before a Rubik's Cube captures your attention. Soon enough you take it off the stand and start shuffling it, releasing the awkward silence again.
"So…Are you comfortable with telling me about your parents?"
You gulp.
Seven years ago
"Goddamit!"
You hear your father swear before a loud crash causes you to jump in your bed. You haven't had a minute of sleep, the shouts and screams of your parents fighting keeping you up for hours. You clutch at the comforter, wishing, praying that your older sibling was here to hold you and tell you everything was gonna be ok.
You slowly rise out of bed, taking Mr. Fuzzypants with you. You approach the stairs, daring only to peek your head through to see what was happening. Surely enough, the vase has disappeared from the table and was now coating the wall.
Every time your parents fought the same picture would be painted.
Your mother, shaking and crying.
Your father, raking his fingers through his hair and pacing.
But this time…something was different.
"Go."
The silence was broken by a whisper from your father. One…simple…word.
Your mother looks at him, her eyes still red and puffy and it's when she turns around and grabs the suitcase that's been hidden by the couch that you realize what's happening. You hold on to Mr. Fuzzypants as hard as you can, stifling your sobs.
The doors shuts quietly and the house is filled with silence. Your father, now a complete wreck, sits down on the couch and drops his head in his hands before standing up and heading towards the fire exit.
You turn around and see that your parents' bedroom door is open and that your mom had left her favourite sunhat on the bed. Dropping Mr. Fuzzypants, you rush as fast as your nine year old legs can take you, grab the hat and rush outside the door.
"Mommy!"
You shout as loud as you can and rush down the stairs. When you reach the lobby, she's there but her back is to you.
"Mommy." You say, a little quieter. She turns towards you, tears in her eyes, "You forgot your hat. You can't go on a holiday without your hat."
She smiles at you before turning around and leaving the door into the night, the hat still hanging limply in your hands.
"Mommy!"
You shout again, running towards the door until strong arms wrap around you and pick you up.
You realize that you dad has picked you up and is walking you back to your room. Of course, that wasn't the last time you saw your mother. She came back, although she wasn't the same…
But then again, neither were you.
Present
The ticking of the clock fills the room after you tell him your memory. Mr. Brooks just sits there, quietly. You put the Rubik's Cube down deciding it was impossible and return back to your seat.
"Do you resent your mother for deserting you?" He asks after a long time.
"No…" You sigh, "I have to forgive her. She was my mother."
"You know, I once read somewhere that life, isolation, abandonment are battlefields which have their heroes."
He offers you a smile which you return genuinely.
"Thanks." You say.
"What happened to your father after your mother left?"
You blink.
Seven years ago
"Daddy! Daddy! You have to drive me to school today!" You shout, running down the stairs. You're really not looking forward to your first day back to school. It had only been two short months ago your mother had left and your father was still a mess.
"B-baby. Come over here for a sec…"
You look to the couch where your father is slumped with a half full bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. You know he shouldn't be drinking, you know he has a job…a career, yet you say nothing.
You kneel in front of your father and frown as he picks up your chin to look into his eyes.
"You have your mother's eyes…" He whispers before passing out of the couch.
You stand up and look grimly at your father. You wish you had someone to help you but your sibling was halfway across the world…what you would do to be with them.
You sigh and grab the keys before you leave. It was 8 blocks to school…
When you arrive at school teachers smile at you to which you return with a frown, the grim look still painted over your face.
"Are you ok?"
You look up at a teacher staring at you with concern in their eyes. You wish you could tell them that you weren't and just collapse and cry but you don't.
"I'm fine."
Present Day
"Are you-"
"I'm fine."
You answer Mr. Brooks. You didn't realize it but you were sobbing and crying as you finished your story. He hands you a tissue and offers another smile.
"What happened to your father next?"
"Well…eventually he sobered up and left for more important things."
"I apologize."
"Don't." You say with a laugh as you sob into the tissue, "I'm glad he left."
The bell signaling the end of school and your session rings.
"Listen…You can't hold onto the past, it's not smart or safe. Just…be yourself. Trust your friends and let out your emotions…Nobody needs to be perfect, kiddo."
You smile as you wipe your eyes and head towards the door and whisper loud enough for only you to hear.
"I do."
Closing the door behind you, you see your two best friends walk towards you with massive smiles on their face expressing their happiness of being released from school.
"Hey Carls!" Freddie greets and waves "You won't believe what happened in art. There was this-"
"What's wrong, Cupcake?" Sam asks, cutting off Freddie's long story. She stepped in front of Freddie with a quizzical frown and concern written across her face as she puts a consoling hand on your shoulder.
You think about telling her that everything's wrong. You think about telling her about your mother's abandonment then the news of her death. You think about telling her about your father's alcoholism and verbal lashing before he decided to leave his daughter and his personal life behind for his career. You think about telling her about how lonely you are sometimes, even if Spencer is around, he wasn't around when mom left and when dad was at his worse. You think about taking Mr. Brooks' advice and just letting out your emotions.
But you don't.
"Carls?" Freddie asks, pulling you out of you reverie, adopting an expression of worry.
"I'm fine. Everything's fine."
And you end where you began.