LJ Idol Season 9, Week 14: Confession from a Chair
Kenji sits in the waiting room, fingers tapping against his dirty jeans. He avoids eye contact with the others sitting in the waiting room and picks up a magazine, flipping through it. Advertisements line the pages, many featuring people gathered together around various glasses and bottles.
He shuts the magazine and slips it back onto the small coffee table in front of him. Sighing, he leans back in the chair and turns his eyes towards the ceiling, then towards his phone. A slight frown forms on his face.
Kenji tipped back a bottle, draining it of its contents before tossing it onto the dining room table in front of him. His phone sat beside him, buzzing incessantly, a random number staring back at him. Once the phone stopped its buzzing, he reached for it, fingers fumbling to pick it up and bring the phone close to his ear.
“Hey, Kenji, it’s James...” started the voicemail. Kenji’s brow furrowed, his whole face one exaggerated wrinkle. “I -- look, I’m really sorry for calling you so late, but --”
“Kenji?”
Kenji blinks and looks up from his phone. A woman stands beside his chair, dressed in a light blue button-down blouse and slacks, a severe expression on her face. “Dr. Griffin,” he murmurs.
“I’m ready for you now,” she says, the expression dissolving into a slight smile.
Kenji nods and stashes his phone away in his pocket. As he pushes himself out of his seat, he stumbles forward his body sways even once he regains his balance. Dr. Griffin’s smile fades as Kenji places a hand to his head and gives himself a little shake.
The two of them head back to her office quickly, Kenji leading the way. Her office is a small room with various nondescript paintings adorning the walls. Kenji settles into the loveseat, rests one arm along the edge of it, and looks anywhere but at Dr. Griffin.
Dr. Griffin clears her throat. “You missed your appointment last week, Kenji. Everything alright?” she asks, settling into the high backed arm-chair directly across from him. She picks up a pen and holds it between her hands, rolling it with her fingers.
“Sorry about that,” Kenji says, giving Dr. Griffin a shaky smile. “I forgot to reschedule.”
“I see,” she says, pursing her lips together. She looks away from Kenji and frowns. “You don’t look to be in good shape.”
Kenji winces, clearing his throat. His fingers trace along a stain on his jeans, his nails picking at it dutifully. Dr. Griffin turns her attention back to him, and he opens his mouth to speak.
"I need your help,” the voicemail continued as Kenji got up and stumbled his way towards the fridge, pulling out another beer. James’s voice shook. “I need to get out of here, Kenji. I know you’re not my therapist anymore -- and I guess we aren’t even really friends, either, but -- please, you’re the only person I know that he doesn’t, and --”
Kenji frowned and tapped his screen, ending the voicemail with one hand before focusing all of his attention on the bottle and freeing it from its metal cap.
“I’ve been... alright,” he begins, faltering. A visible tremor runs through his body, and he grimaces, his body going rigid for a moment.
“Why don’t you fill me in on the past couple of weeks -- how’s your practice going?”
“Well,” Kenji says, and his presses his lips together in a thin line. “It’s going pretty well, actually.”
Dr. Griffin nods, no longer twisting her pen between her fingers. Instead, she holds it in the fist of one hand, her thumb resting along the cap. “Kenji. You’ve been coming to see me for the past year, now. You have never missed a session, not even at the beginning,” she says. Her tone is soft with a hard edge. “What happened?”
Kenji gulps, runs his fingers through his greasy hair, and drops his eyes to the floor.
“I’ve -- I’ve been drinking again,” he whispers.
Kenji crawled into his bed and dropped his phone on the nightstand beside him. He didn’t remove his glasses as he closed his eyes, letting sleep overcome him.
When he opened his eyes again, his whole body rebelled against him, stomach turning and head pounding. He groaned and sat upright, finding his whole body felt off as he did so. He scrambled towards the bathroom, fingers scratching at the porcelain as he emptied the contents of his stomach. Once finished, he rested his head against the edge of the toilet and closed his eyes, willing his stomach to settle.
Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet and headed back towards the bedroom. His phone lit up with another text, and his stomach clenched as his fingers wrapped around the phone.
It was a text from James.
“Why?” Dr. Griffin asks.
Kenji opens and closes his mouth, fingers still picking at yet another stain, this one on his shirt. “I don’t... I don’t know.”
“Ah.” Dr. Griffin sits back in her seat, tapping her fingers on the arms of her chair as she looks towards the ceiling. “How’s your friend -- Jordan, was it? The one who’s in an abusive situation?”
Kenji licks his lips and folds his hands in his lap, turning his gaze towards his fingers. “He’s -- his name is James, and --”
Please help me get out of here.
“-- he -- he wants me to help him.”
“Are you going to? That seems to be a lot to ask of someone you’ve only known for a few months.”
Kenji lets out a loud sigh and fidgets in his seat. “I don’t -- think I am.” Tears form in the corners of his eyes, and he looks away from Dr. Griffin and studies his fingernails. They’re caked with dirt underneath, and lifts his gaze to her. The tears seem to have stopped welling up in his eyes as his lips twist into a deep frown. “Why should I? I mean, yeah, okay, I have feelings for him, and it’s rough watching him go through all of this, but --”
Kenji stared down at the phone, his fingers tightening around it for a moment. He then threw the phone against the nearest wall, its screen shattering with the impact.
“But I didn’t get any help escaping my abusive ex -- no one was fucking there for me when I ran away from home in order to escape my mother. I just -- couldn’t fucking do it anymore, both times, so I left.” Kenji finishes, out of breath and face now red. His fingers twitch in his lap, and he curls in on himself, running his fingers through his hair. “So why can’t he just fucking do the same?”
Kenji glowered at the wall, then turned on his heel and headed out towards the kitchen, his body aching with every step.
When his fingers closed around the slick glass of his first bottle of the day, his heart quit pounding against his ribs and he felt his blood begin to cool.
“You sound frustrated with him,” Dr. Griffin says, meeting Kenji’s eyes. “Is it possible that interacting with James is a bit triggering for you?”
Kenji’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops open. He pulls his hand away from his hair, tears rolling down his face as he whispers:
“I never thought of that.”
He shuts the magazine and slips it back onto the small coffee table in front of him. Sighing, he leans back in the chair and turns his eyes towards the ceiling, then towards his phone. A slight frown forms on his face.
Kenji tipped back a bottle, draining it of its contents before tossing it onto the dining room table in front of him. His phone sat beside him, buzzing incessantly, a random number staring back at him. Once the phone stopped its buzzing, he reached for it, fingers fumbling to pick it up and bring the phone close to his ear.
“Hey, Kenji, it’s James...” started the voicemail. Kenji’s brow furrowed, his whole face one exaggerated wrinkle. “I -- look, I’m really sorry for calling you so late, but --”
“Kenji?”
Kenji blinks and looks up from his phone. A woman stands beside his chair, dressed in a light blue button-down blouse and slacks, a severe expression on her face. “Dr. Griffin,” he murmurs.
“I’m ready for you now,” she says, the expression dissolving into a slight smile.
Kenji nods and stashes his phone away in his pocket. As he pushes himself out of his seat, he stumbles forward his body sways even once he regains his balance. Dr. Griffin’s smile fades as Kenji places a hand to his head and gives himself a little shake.
The two of them head back to her office quickly, Kenji leading the way. Her office is a small room with various nondescript paintings adorning the walls. Kenji settles into the loveseat, rests one arm along the edge of it, and looks anywhere but at Dr. Griffin.
Dr. Griffin clears her throat. “You missed your appointment last week, Kenji. Everything alright?” she asks, settling into the high backed arm-chair directly across from him. She picks up a pen and holds it between her hands, rolling it with her fingers.
“Sorry about that,” Kenji says, giving Dr. Griffin a shaky smile. “I forgot to reschedule.”
“I see,” she says, pursing her lips together. She looks away from Kenji and frowns. “You don’t look to be in good shape.”
Kenji winces, clearing his throat. His fingers trace along a stain on his jeans, his nails picking at it dutifully. Dr. Griffin turns her attention back to him, and he opens his mouth to speak.
"I need your help,” the voicemail continued as Kenji got up and stumbled his way towards the fridge, pulling out another beer. James’s voice shook. “I need to get out of here, Kenji. I know you’re not my therapist anymore -- and I guess we aren’t even really friends, either, but -- please, you’re the only person I know that he doesn’t, and --”
Kenji frowned and tapped his screen, ending the voicemail with one hand before focusing all of his attention on the bottle and freeing it from its metal cap.
“I’ve been... alright,” he begins, faltering. A visible tremor runs through his body, and he grimaces, his body going rigid for a moment.
“Why don’t you fill me in on the past couple of weeks -- how’s your practice going?”
“Well,” Kenji says, and his presses his lips together in a thin line. “It’s going pretty well, actually.”
Dr. Griffin nods, no longer twisting her pen between her fingers. Instead, she holds it in the fist of one hand, her thumb resting along the cap. “Kenji. You’ve been coming to see me for the past year, now. You have never missed a session, not even at the beginning,” she says. Her tone is soft with a hard edge. “What happened?”
Kenji gulps, runs his fingers through his greasy hair, and drops his eyes to the floor.
“I’ve -- I’ve been drinking again,” he whispers.
Kenji crawled into his bed and dropped his phone on the nightstand beside him. He didn’t remove his glasses as he closed his eyes, letting sleep overcome him.
When he opened his eyes again, his whole body rebelled against him, stomach turning and head pounding. He groaned and sat upright, finding his whole body felt off as he did so. He scrambled towards the bathroom, fingers scratching at the porcelain as he emptied the contents of his stomach. Once finished, he rested his head against the edge of the toilet and closed his eyes, willing his stomach to settle.
Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet and headed back towards the bedroom. His phone lit up with another text, and his stomach clenched as his fingers wrapped around the phone.
It was a text from James.
“Why?” Dr. Griffin asks.
Kenji opens and closes his mouth, fingers still picking at yet another stain, this one on his shirt. “I don’t... I don’t know.”
“Ah.” Dr. Griffin sits back in her seat, tapping her fingers on the arms of her chair as she looks towards the ceiling. “How’s your friend -- Jordan, was it? The one who’s in an abusive situation?”
Kenji licks his lips and folds his hands in his lap, turning his gaze towards his fingers. “He’s -- his name is James, and --”
Please help me get out of here.
“-- he -- he wants me to help him.”
“Are you going to? That seems to be a lot to ask of someone you’ve only known for a few months.”
Kenji lets out a loud sigh and fidgets in his seat. “I don’t -- think I am.” Tears form in the corners of his eyes, and he looks away from Dr. Griffin and studies his fingernails. They’re caked with dirt underneath, and lifts his gaze to her. The tears seem to have stopped welling up in his eyes as his lips twist into a deep frown. “Why should I? I mean, yeah, okay, I have feelings for him, and it’s rough watching him go through all of this, but --”
Kenji stared down at the phone, his fingers tightening around it for a moment. He then threw the phone against the nearest wall, its screen shattering with the impact.
“But I didn’t get any help escaping my abusive ex -- no one was fucking there for me when I ran away from home in order to escape my mother. I just -- couldn’t fucking do it anymore, both times, so I left.” Kenji finishes, out of breath and face now red. His fingers twitch in his lap, and he curls in on himself, running his fingers through his hair. “So why can’t he just fucking do the same?”
Kenji glowered at the wall, then turned on his heel and headed out towards the kitchen, his body aching with every step.
When his fingers closed around the slick glass of his first bottle of the day, his heart quit pounding against his ribs and he felt his blood begin to cool.
“You sound frustrated with him,” Dr. Griffin says, meeting Kenji’s eyes. “Is it possible that interacting with James is a bit triggering for you?”
Kenji’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops open. He pulls his hand away from his hair, tears rolling down his face as he whispers:
“I never thought of that.”