CHAPTER FOUR: The Second Tuesday, We Talk About Feeling Sorry For Yourself

"Why do you frown so much, Chase? It's really not a good look on you. You look like Beaver Cleaver meets Tony from West Side Story. Although, I doubt you can sing," House said as we sat together the following Tuesday.

"Beaver meets Tony, eh? Not too bad, I guess. I thought you'd come up with worst," I said.

"You just wait for it," House remarked with a smirk. "So why do you frown so much?"
"Is this going to be a lead-in to another philosophical conversation?"
"Yes."
I sighed, knowing that when House had his mind set on something, it was wise

to just go along with it. "I frown because I'm unhappy. Okay?"

"Hmmm…okay…It's okay with me if you're unhappy. You can bawl like a baby every night for all I care. And it seems to be okay with you too, so I guess it's okay with everyone," House replied. "Is it okay with you?"

I didn't know how to answer. "Uh. Yes. No…I don't know."

"You better figure it out," House said.

I hated when he acted like my father, but I loved it at the same time. I thought about what he said, and although it was extremely difficult to admit, especially to House, I said, "It's…not okay with me."

"Good. Now we're getting somewhere. Why are you so unhappy?" House asked, twirling his cane in the air like he did so often.

"I thought you didn't care," I responded, not sure if I wanted to go into my depression.

House reiterated, "I don't. But now you do. So…why are you so unhappy?"

"I don't know."

House then got angry. "Don't tell me you don't know! You can't wallow through life and say you don't know why!"

"I don't!" I shouted back, then lowered my voice. "I really don't know why, House." I sounded like a lost little boy.

House's irate expression calmed down into his usual not-able-to-know-what-he's-thinking look. "When did you become depressed?"

"When? I, well, when did it start?" I asked myself. "I guess it really began the day I started my job with you."
House's eyebrows rose. "Oh, is that true? You start working with me and just like that, you're clinically depressed. Watching Schindler's List every night and listening to 'All is Fair in Love' every morning. Wow, I did all that to you? I can die happy now!"

I rolled my impeccable blue eyes. "No, House. It wasn't you. It was the realization that I would never become a priest like I wanted. That I was really going through with this whole medicine thing that I never desired to do in the first place."

House sarcastically replied, "Hmmm…so your unhappiness started the day your self-pity kicked in? Think there's any correlation, doctor?"
"No, I don't, because…" I started.

House quickly interrupted, "Oh, so sadness and feeling sorry for yourself are two symptoms that are unrelated? Man, this one's going to be tough then. Might have to call Dr. Foreman and Dr. Cameron to help us with our diagnosis."

"Before you interrupted me, I was going to say that I don't think they are two different symptoms. I think they come together due to something, not one creates the other," I explained.

"Beep! Wrong again!" House exclaimed. "Depression and self-pity don't just appear at once. It starts like this: you first start noticing all the little bad things about your day, then your life, then yourself, and voila! Depression."
"Yeah, you must be an expert, right?" I said, trying to get to him.

And I did get to him, I thought. His face changed. His eyes changed. But all he said was, "Yeah. I wrote the book on it."

"I'd like to read it," I replied, playing along.

"I'll let you borrow it sometime," House said quietly. "So what are you going to do?"
"About my depression?" I asked.
"Yeah."

"I guess I'll just keep coming to see you. Just last week you convinced me that there are others that have it much worst than I do. Today you told me about unhappiness. I won't become joyous overnight, of course, but I know there is a lot more to learn from you. And maybe someday I can be happy," I answered.

House nodded, not sure what to say. "All right, then."