Same chair, same window, same day of the week. Would this ever end? I kind of thought it would never end.
I shifted my weight in the seat, stared out the window, tapped my nails on the wooden armrest. Bored. But it wasn't exactly boredom. I was trying to ignore the whole point of this thing. I was trying to ignore the fact that I was screwed up and I needed therapy. I didn't want to be that screwed up kid. I just wanted to be normal. I wanted to pretend that none of it had ever happened. What was wrong with that?
"Craig, have you given any thought to what it will be like when you move back in with your father?" he said in his calm therapist's voice. Great. He was going for the jugular.
"Not really," I said.
"Well, what do you think it will be like?"
I sighed. Maybe if I talked a little more I could stop going here, since Joey never seemed to agree with me that I didn't need it. It was like eating vegetables, the real gross ones like Brussels sprouts or turnips, they were good for you but hard to get down.
I closed my eyes, felt the warmth from the sun coming through the window. This was so annoying.
"Uh, I think he'll be nice at first, trying to not lose his temper and everything, and then, I don't know," I said.
"You don't know what?" he said.
"I don't know! He'll lose his temper, things will be the same, because maybe he can't change, maybe nobody can," I glared at him.
"You don't think people can change?"
"Sort of. I don't know. Maybe I don't think he can change, because, because, well, if he could, why didn't he change already? Why didn't he, since he knew things were bad, and he knew that it was all screwed up, so why didn't he change before he practically killed me?"
"Maybe he needs help to change," he said. I nodded.
"Yeah, maybe," I said.
"So are you afraid of going back to living with your father?"
I hadn't really been thinking about it. It wasn't like I even knew when it would be happening, and I'd just moved out of there. I didn't give much thought to moving back.
"Afraid? I don't know. I guess, I mean, it'll be weird. He's gonna change, but I might, too. I'm already different. I do things and say things at Joey's house that I never would have at my house. Like, I never had people come over when I lived with my dad, because I couldn't. It was too unpredictable. But at Joey's it's no big deal. So when I go back am I going to have to change that? Or will my dad be okay with it, and I won't have to worry anymore? I just don't know,"
"You've spoken a bit about his anger, your dad's, but what about yours?" he said. I blinked. Mine?
"My what?" I said.
"Your anger. You must be angry, too," he said, and I had to admit, at least to myself, that he was right. I was beyond angry. It was like this, I don't know. This rage filled creature that was inside of me, and I'd see red. I'd slam doors and throw things and clench my fists and it tensed every muscle and I really felt like I could kill someone. At those times, when I was so pissed off over whatever it was, I thought that it was probably how my dad had felt. It was scary.