I got home feeling like the shittiest person in the world.
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I looked in my dad's liquor cabinet to see if I could find something to ease up the flood of emotion coming. I found a bottle of Maker's Mark that would suffice for now. I poured it over ice in the kitchen and heard the front door.
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"Thomas?" I heard my dad as he entered the kitchen. He gave a disappointed sigh as his eyes turned from the glass to me.
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"Thomas, I need to talk to you."
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I nodded.
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"I need you to respond back to me with words this time." He said this time a little more stern.
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"Okay."
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He sat down on the chair pushed by the kitchen island and prompted me to do the same. I sat down taking a sip of my drink.
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"Son, I know I haven't been the best father in the world, but I tried my best to make you and your mom happy." He paused before continuing. "I need some effort from you to get better. There's only so much I can do for you."
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"I am trying."
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"As much as I would love to believe that you are, your actions show me different. So to ensure your efforts, you're going back to school in the fall. Real school, not that laptop you're always on. Also you're going to start therapy. I set up a consultation with Mrs. Meyers for Thursday and you are going."
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"Dad, therapy doesn't work."
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"Well something has to. I lost your mom, I can't lose you too."
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I remained silent after that. I couldn't retort anything back because there was nothing left to say. I nodded and looked at the glass before finishing every last drop. I put the glass on the table and went straight to my room. I laid on the bed staring at my ceiling a while thinking about what Frankie and my dad said.
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I sat up and went to my desk and took down the pinned card on the wall. I traced over the engraved name and numbers.
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248-434-5508
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Summer Meyers
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I hummed with curiosity remembering back to the night I met my fathers friend. She told me she wasn't the most expensive therapist but she helped her through hard times.
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I just hoped that it would be the same for me.
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The next couple days flew by me. My perception of time was distorted so I was never really aware that the day had changed until I checked my phone and realized it's been weeks.
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Thursday came and I felt anxious. I debated on whether or not I should go or pretend I went and lie to my dad but he was the one driving me. He forced me to ride with him to make sure I actually ended up going. We reached the building and I pushed my hair back in an attempt to keep my hands busy.
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"I've got work but you can call the driver to come get you." I nodded and looked back to the small red bricked building ahead. "You'll be great." The click of the car doors unlocking went off and I took that as a friendly please get out of my car from my dad. I walked over to the building and he zoomed off.
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The inside was nothing like my moms old building. Hers was bigger and the inside was all white almost hospital like.
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The lady at the front desk smiled and greeted me. I gave her my name and she gave me a lengthy stack of papers attached to a clipboard. I sat down and filled them out one by one not really paying attention to the information. Once I handed them back to her I took a seat next to a middle aged woman. She looked like she'd been crying.
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"Thomas Keen?" A female voice sounded from the door. I raised my head to see a small framed woman with short black hair and thick glasses standing by the door holding a notebook.
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She flashed a friendly smile and pushed her squared glasses up. I rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans and walked towards her.
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"How are you today Mr. Keen?" She beamed. She seemed too happy. Almost annoyingly happy in the fakest way possible.
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"I'm fine."
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"If you would follow me back to my office, we can get started." She turned over and started walking down the short hallway of rooms with different names on the door. We reached the last room in the hall and on the door it read Mrs. Summer Meyers .
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The room was small, humble looking and kind of home-y. A burnt orange couch sat in the center of the brown wall and two smaller lounge chairs sat across with a table in the middle.
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"You can decide where you'd like to sit." She gestured towards the chairs. I chose the most comfortable, the couch, and she sat across from me in the smaller chair. She flipped through documents periodically pushing her glasses up and examining some pages closer than others. After a few seconds she plopped the papers on the floor and opened up a journal like book.
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"It's nice to meet you Thomas, my name is Summer Evans but if you'd like you can call me Summer. Do you have a name you'd like to go by or is just Thomas okay?
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"Just Thomas." She nodded jotting a few words down.
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I don't know why I felt so anxious. It was like I was in a lab and was being examined by a scientist like I was some kind of freak of nature. I looked around the room familiarizing myself with her office. She had no pictures of family just nature and a brown cat picture hung from the wall.
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"Thomas, I want to preface our visit with something important. You aren't obligated to talk about anything you don't feel comfortable with. Our conversations are private and confidential. We go at the pace you're comfortable with, so if I ask a question you're unsure about we can switch it out with something else. Sound good?" I nodded still not being able to look directly at her.
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"Let's start with why you're here today. Can you tell me what brings you in?"
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"My dad and my ex girlfriend told me I should get help."
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"So this wasn't a personal choice, rather something you're doing for them?"
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I nodded and she jot down more words into her notebook.
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"Why do you think they wanted you to join therapy?"
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I shrugged. "My mom died."
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"I'm sorry for your loss." She spoke sympathetically but I couldn't tell if it was from a place of pity or if she was just doing her job well. "How long ago was this?"
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"Seven months ago."
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"That was quite recent. How have things been for you since her passing?" She continued writing.
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I stared at her notebook curious as to what she was scribbling in there. I shrugged in response to her question not really feeling like going in to detail. She stopped writing and pushed her glasses up.
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"Can I ask, how she passed?"
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"She committed suicide." I shared somberly.
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I looked out the window trying not to think of it too long. I focused on the cars passing by on the main road and the way the wind moved the leaves on the trees. It was calming and kept my mind away from that night. If I would have stayed up longer, or woke up earlier maybe I would've heard it. How would I have known it wasn't going to be like every other night? I could've caught it earlier on and maybe stopped it.
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"Thomas? Thomas?" Mrs. Evans repeatedly said my name but it wasn't till the last time I turned my head to give her my attention.
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"Yes?"
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"I asked if you wanted to continue talking about your mother?"
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"Oh. Let's talk about something else."
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She wrote down more notes and grabbed the pitcher of water on the glass table in front of us. "Would you like some water?"
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I shook my head. She sipped on her water in a pink coffee mug and placed it back on the table. The rest of the session felt like agony answering questions about myself. I barely said another word and avoided questions that couldn't be answered with a head shake or a nod. I left the office and called my driver to come get me and on the ride home I sat in silence staring out the window.
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