Therapy

Alexander visits his therapist-who he does not like at all.

"Alex,"

"Alexander." I correct immediately. 

My therapist clears his throat. "OK, Alexander, would you like to tell me how your day went?" 

I pick at a piece of thread on my faded jeans. "I don't know, not really."

"Why not?" He asks, clicking his pen open. Why is he going to bother writing anything? Is my non-descriptive answer interesting or something?

"Because nothing interesting happened," I reply with a simple shrug. It's been a whole month, nothing interesting will ever happen. 

He jots something down quickly onto his note paper. "Why is that?" He asks after a space of silence. 

I brush a piece of black hair out of my eye. My hair used to be blonde; I hated it. "I don't know, because my life is boring." 

        "Is it boring because of Julianne's death?" That question strikes a nerve; mostly because it's true. Ever since Julianne died my life hasn't been the most eventful. Maybe it's because I spent all of my time with her or because I never really had any other friends in general. Both suggestions are correct. 

I don't reply for a while. I need to make sure my answer doesn't give too much away. Oh, I have one. "No."

"I don't think that's a very honest answer Mr. Bay." He stops writing.

"Why? Did I not give you enough to write or something?" I point out with a smug smile.

 He looks taken aback by my response, but quickly shakes it off. "No, I just feel like there's more that you wanted to say." 

"Well there isn't." 

I can see I'm getting him annoyed. Great, that was my motive from the start.

"OK, well, have you made any more friends this past month? Not counting Julianne of course." He asks now. This past month, he says it so easily; well lucky him. 

"Not really." Keep the simplicity going Alexander, you're doing well. 

He shifts. "Well why don't you start? This can be your first step in getting better." 

I glance out the window at an elderly lady walking her dog. I had a dog, but he died just like Julianne. I hate that everything dies. "I don't need friends to get better." 

"But friends are important." He presses.

I look back to him. "Yeah, well so is my happiness, I don't need friends." 

He sighs and sets his clipboard down onto the coffee table by his leg with a clack. "Alex, you need to take down this barrier that you're putting up here." 

I clench my fist. "My name's Alexander." Geez! How many times do I have to remind this dumb a*s?

He drums his fingers against his leg as his eyes bore into mine. I hate him. He calls me Alex on purpose just to get a rise out of me. I hate him so much. 

"Look here, This session ends in twenty minutes understand? We can either co-operate or we can move on, you choose which one." 

A huge weight lifts off of my shoulders. Finally, I have been waiting for that option for two weeks now. "I say we move on." I reply as I stand up from the plastic chair. 

He watches me as I leave. There sits another person to give up on Alexander James Bay.