Therapy session the second
“Welcome back, Isaac. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, you seemed quite confident after our last session. Please, take a seat.”
Isaac dropped himself back into the beanbag again, barely paying attention as Christina sat down next to him on the footstool in a rustle of skirts. “My house mate and I, we have a deal. When one of us comes, the other one comes.”
“Was it your idea to come back early?”
He nodded. “But not for me. I worry about him. I decided we should come back sooner because he was... he sounded like me, when I can’t resist going for a hit. So I dragged him back and made another appointment.”
“Do you worry about much in your life?”
“Um...” Did he? Not really. He didn’t care about enough to worry about it. “Not really. I do, but it’s like, money and work and keeping clean. Normal stuff.”
“And Peter.”
“Yeah. And Lacey.”
“Lacey’s the greyhound, right?”
“Yeah.” He worried about the dog when she was left alone. And Peter. Because Peter jumped off buildings to see if he would fly and cried when he thought Isaac wouldn’t know, but he’d found himself almost able to see it, staring at the wall and wondering if he house mate was awake.
“You care a lot about them.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you think about one of the things that you didn’t want to discuss before?”
He nodded, staring up at the photo again. “My family.”
“Do you want to talk about them?”
Not really, but he had a feeling she wanted to. “I guess.”
“How about you just tell me how many in your immediate family.”
“Father, mother, big brother, little sister, grandmother, bunch of aunts, uncles and cousins. I’m the middle child, second son.” And ten years on, he still sounded bitter saying it.
“All right. I said I wouldn’t make you talk about it, and I won’t. What do you want to talk about?”
He thought about it. He didn’t really want to discuss anything. He was here because he was worried about Peter, and the deal was that if one came, both came. “Dunno.”
“Have you slept better the last couple of nights?”
“Hm?”
“You said you didn’t sleep well last time. Has that changed?”
He shook his head. “Takes me hours to get to sleep, even when I’m exhausted. I wake up tired. I have nightmares a lot, dumb shit, but I wake up from it.”
She nodded. “You said it had been that way since you were a child?”
“Yeah. Nightmares, trouble sleeping, trouble waking up. When I got older, about nineteen, I started having periods where I just didn’t need sleep. I’d go four days without sleep easily.”
“Did you hallucinate?”
“Sometimes. It was weird, but not, it never worried me much at the time. I’d just draw, or paint or whatever. It happened less while I was using. I slept when I had a hit, woke up when it wore off.”
“Do you feel like you get enough sleep?”
“No. Never.”
“You said the alcohol helped?”
“I get to sleep easier. Quicker.”
“Does it make you depressed?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes, I guess.”
“Does it make Peter depressed?”
“Sorta. He’s usually depressed already. Then he gets drunk and hits on me and then he gets upset and more depressed.”
“He hits on you?”
Isaac shrugged again. “It doesn’t worry me, but he gets upset, because I’m straight and he thinks I’ll fuck off in a rage.”
“Have you ever given him a reason to believe that?”
“I don’t know. I was out of my head for the first two months of our friendship. I was pretty harsh about him and this guy he liked, but not because it was a guy. I just didn’t want to hear about someone else being in love or shit at the time. I was angry about Simone and the drugs sort of fuck you up about being with other people.”
“Does he know that?”
“I dunno. I’ve said it but I don’t know if he believes me.”
“That bothers you.”
“Hm?”
“That he doesn’t believe you.”
“Yeah. But I wouldn’t believe me either. He believes me when it matters, mostly. He doesn’t believe me, but it’s not about me. It’s about him and thinking like, that I’m just being nice about it about he can’t imagine anyone actually being okay with him being however he is.”
“But it still hurts.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t want to. It stung, but he didn’t blame Peter for it. Peter was fucked up by his family and fragile.
“Did you family often blame you for things that weren’t your fault?”
He snapped to look at her. She looked calm and gentle, as always. Waiting.
“I don’t want to talk about them.” He might as well have said yes.
“All right. How about we call it there for today?”
He nodded, pushing himself from the beanbag and offering a hand to help her up.
“Thank you. Will you think about something for me again?”
“I guess so.”
“I want you to think about your significant past relationships. They can be friendships, or family, or just a teacher. The relationships and people who have had the most impact on you and why. All right?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I’ll see you next time, Isaac.”
He let himself out of the office and looked to Zara. “I’m going for a walk. Would you tell-”
“I’ll tell him.”
“Thanks.”
He headed out onto the street.
Isaac dropped himself back into the beanbag again, barely paying attention as Christina sat down next to him on the footstool in a rustle of skirts. “My house mate and I, we have a deal. When one of us comes, the other one comes.”
“Was it your idea to come back early?”
He nodded. “But not for me. I worry about him. I decided we should come back sooner because he was... he sounded like me, when I can’t resist going for a hit. So I dragged him back and made another appointment.”
“Do you worry about much in your life?”
“Um...” Did he? Not really. He didn’t care about enough to worry about it. “Not really. I do, but it’s like, money and work and keeping clean. Normal stuff.”
“And Peter.”
“Yeah. And Lacey.”
“Lacey’s the greyhound, right?”
“Yeah.” He worried about the dog when she was left alone. And Peter. Because Peter jumped off buildings to see if he would fly and cried when he thought Isaac wouldn’t know, but he’d found himself almost able to see it, staring at the wall and wondering if he house mate was awake.
“You care a lot about them.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you think about one of the things that you didn’t want to discuss before?”
He nodded, staring up at the photo again. “My family.”
“Do you want to talk about them?”
Not really, but he had a feeling she wanted to. “I guess.”
“How about you just tell me how many in your immediate family.”
“Father, mother, big brother, little sister, grandmother, bunch of aunts, uncles and cousins. I’m the middle child, second son.” And ten years on, he still sounded bitter saying it.
“All right. I said I wouldn’t make you talk about it, and I won’t. What do you want to talk about?”
He thought about it. He didn’t really want to discuss anything. He was here because he was worried about Peter, and the deal was that if one came, both came. “Dunno.”
“Have you slept better the last couple of nights?”
“Hm?”
“You said you didn’t sleep well last time. Has that changed?”
He shook his head. “Takes me hours to get to sleep, even when I’m exhausted. I wake up tired. I have nightmares a lot, dumb shit, but I wake up from it.”
She nodded. “You said it had been that way since you were a child?”
“Yeah. Nightmares, trouble sleeping, trouble waking up. When I got older, about nineteen, I started having periods where I just didn’t need sleep. I’d go four days without sleep easily.”
“Did you hallucinate?”
“Sometimes. It was weird, but not, it never worried me much at the time. I’d just draw, or paint or whatever. It happened less while I was using. I slept when I had a hit, woke up when it wore off.”
“Do you feel like you get enough sleep?”
“No. Never.”
“You said the alcohol helped?”
“I get to sleep easier. Quicker.”
“Does it make you depressed?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes, I guess.”
“Does it make Peter depressed?”
“Sorta. He’s usually depressed already. Then he gets drunk and hits on me and then he gets upset and more depressed.”
“He hits on you?”
Isaac shrugged again. “It doesn’t worry me, but he gets upset, because I’m straight and he thinks I’ll fuck off in a rage.”
“Have you ever given him a reason to believe that?”
“I don’t know. I was out of my head for the first two months of our friendship. I was pretty harsh about him and this guy he liked, but not because it was a guy. I just didn’t want to hear about someone else being in love or shit at the time. I was angry about Simone and the drugs sort of fuck you up about being with other people.”
“Does he know that?”
“I dunno. I’ve said it but I don’t know if he believes me.”
“That bothers you.”
“Hm?”
“That he doesn’t believe you.”
“Yeah. But I wouldn’t believe me either. He believes me when it matters, mostly. He doesn’t believe me, but it’s not about me. It’s about him and thinking like, that I’m just being nice about it about he can’t imagine anyone actually being okay with him being however he is.”
“But it still hurts.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t want to. It stung, but he didn’t blame Peter for it. Peter was fucked up by his family and fragile.
“Did you family often blame you for things that weren’t your fault?”
He snapped to look at her. She looked calm and gentle, as always. Waiting.
“I don’t want to talk about them.” He might as well have said yes.
“All right. How about we call it there for today?”
He nodded, pushing himself from the beanbag and offering a hand to help her up.
“Thank you. Will you think about something for me again?”
“I guess so.”
“I want you to think about your significant past relationships. They can be friendships, or family, or just a teacher. The relationships and people who have had the most impact on you and why. All right?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I’ll see you next time, Isaac.”
He let himself out of the office and looked to Zara. “I’m going for a walk. Would you tell-”
“I’ll tell him.”
“Thanks.”
He headed out onto the street.