He came to me by force. If he weren't so preoccupied feeling angry at the world, I would have told him point blank that the feeling was mutual. But my professional etiquette also forbade me from doing so. He was my patient and I was his doctor. He was supposed to see me as the enemy and I was supposed to prove him otherwise. So that was how the first session went. Nothing out of the ordinary.
I was in the middle of writing a report on an old patient of mine when Marianne came in to my office to inform me that he had arrived. Marianne wasn't the receptionist, she was a fellow colleague. It wasn't the world's biggest shocker that she was a fan, I had known her long enough to notice the posters on her bedroom walls that would eventually followed her through College and now, in her office. Except that they were nicely rolled and kept in locked closet instead of on the walls. Work ethics, she had explained. It didn't stop her from taking them out every so often and stared at them for hours. Hey, some of us drown it all with shots, she stares at posters. Whatever helps, right?
Trust me, I had tried convincing her to take over my place. She knew the guy and practically worshipped the grounds that he walked on; they would get along just fine. But it shocked me when she had declined. He's my idol Jonathan, he's supposed to be perfect, don't ruin it.
Everyone had to be someone else, that's why they ended up in this office.
"I want details." Marianne chirped as she turned to walk out of my office. "No can't do, patient confidentiality, remember?"
She squinted her eyes, which crinkled her nose up, her hands already raised; choking what I assumed was supposed to be my invincible neck. I laughed; it was a rarity to see her at the receiving end of the joke that would normally be me.
He knocked on the door before entering, that didn't go unnoticed. I was expecting him to barge in here like he owned the place. He could if he wanted to; the lucky bastard earned probably twice as much as I would in my entire life, all because he could carry a tune.
He hated being there; I could sense it even before he started to introduce himself. If a person had visible auras to show their emotions at different times, I would be seeing nothing but black around him. It was that blinding and loud. Yet he was the first to extend his hand for a handshake.
"Hi, I'm Nick Carter." It didn't sound practised though, like all those celebrities recorded messages on radio going 'Hi, I'm Nick Carter, for the best hit music all day and all night, tune in to…' there was none of that, surprisingly.
The first session and already I found him confusing.
"Jonathan Reitt."
Nick Carter hated being in this office and everything that was in it, me included. But there he was, just a few inches shorter than me, in his perfectly ironed out green and yellow striped polo shirt and equally ironed beige pants. It was obvious he wasn't comfortable in them, except for the shoes. Nike, just do it. Perhaps that was his motto for that day, just do it. And he did well, being nice to a stranger even though he hated it.
I showed him to the sofa and he muttered a thanks before taking a seat, sinking as deep as the curve would allow his body. I sat on my single chair, facing him, making a quick mental note to ask Harris who furnished these rooms. Everything was a touch of beige and lime green.
He sat there, looking back at me, expecting me to tell him what to do next. I knew he didn't want to be there, but he was forcing himself to go along with it. Like everything else I noticed about him. Except for that introduction, that was real.
"A question?"
He nodded. "That's why I'm here right? For you to ask questions."
"What makes you think that?"
"How else are you gonna know if I'm crazy or not."
"So you think only crazy people come see me?"
"Unless if you're telling me people just waltz in here and talk about their problems to a total stranger."
"What makes you think they come to talk about their problems?"
"Cause you're suppose to make it all better," he replied matter of factly. "and you're doing it even right now."
"Making it all better?"
"No, asking me questions." He said. "You answer my questions with questions."
Never let it be said that this boy wasn't attentive enough.
"Okay, fair enough." I said.
He shrugged. "If that's the way psychiatrist works, by all means, not like I'm an expert."
I smiled. "How about you ask me a question then?"
"Me?"
"Yes."
He went quiet, sinking deeper into the sofa. Hands lay nicely on his laps, he licked his lips, something I assumed would make Marianne go crazy. I waited, not saying a word, the kid sure thinks a lot.
"How old are you?"
That caught me off guard. Of all the things he could have asked. "Twenty four."
He nodded and bit his lower lips, eyes drifting from his hands to me. "You're as old as Brian."
"He's a friend?"
"Yeah, he's in the…group."
"He's the other blonde, right?"
He nodded, a small smile on his face. "Yeah, that's him…he's married now, are you?"
"Am I married?"
He nodded.
"No."
"Anyone special?"
"Kinda."
"Kinda?"
"Yes, kinda."
"Do you love her?"
"I think you've reached the maximum quota of questions Mr. Carter."
He blushed. "Sorry, just wondering."
"That's okay," I said while scribbling pointers in my book. "so do you have one?"
"Have what?"
"Someone you love."
"We all have someone we love. My family, the guys…"
"Girlfriend?"
He shifted in his seat and I scribbled more. "I have a girlfriend."
"Okay." I said, ending the topic. "Do you know why you're here?"
"Jim said the record company wants me to."
"Do you know why?"
"He said it's gonna help me with the stress."
"What kind of stress?"
"Tour, mostly. Everything about the entertainment business is pressurising. They said I need to let it off my chest before I go crazy."
"What do you think then, Mr. Carter?"
"I think I need to let it off my chest before I go crazy. I told you already."
"So you agree with them?"
"Does it make a difference?"
"Yes it does. I want to know what you think, not what they tell you."
He leaned forward, hunching as he rested his elbows on his laps, forearms stretched out, and palm clasped together. "See it doesn't make a difference for me. A lil tip about the entertainment business doc, one voice won't be heard. I'm one voice."
I took off my glasses and shoved it in my breast pocket. He was staring at me, expecting a reply. "Well, take a look around Mr. Carter, this is not the entertainment business. One voice for another, I hear you."
"You think this helps?"
"You think not?"
He shook his head and stood up. "When I walk out of this room, nothing changes. You might want to try to change that, by all means, that's what you're paid to do. But you know what, I may hate the business, but I live for the entertainment. This is my life and I already have Kevin to put me straight. You said you'd listen? You sit there in your suit and your glasses with that pad attached to your hands. You wrote stuff about me and call me Mr. Carter. I don't see how that will change things around. I have friends who listen, they don't make me sit down and say stuff, they don't write about me when I'm talking and the name is Nick."
He was right though. When he walked out of that office half an hour earlier than the scheduled duration, nothing changed.
So 1 to patient and 0 to doctor.
But Mr. Carter, excuse me, Nick, needed to know that even though I hate being yelled at in my own office, that I live for the passion of what I do. There will be changes. It will be made.
-
I sat there, pretending that I didn't give a damn, while Jim paced the room in front of me, pretty much yelling out the 101 on why I shouldn't and couldn't walk out of my 'therapy' session thirty minutes earlier.
Jonathan Reitt seemed nice enough, although my suspicions tell me that that was exactly what they wanted me to see and believe. They really thought I would buy the shit. How can I ever look at him and see a friend? He was PAID to sit in the same room as me for an hour and listen to me. That was easy money, if I had known any better, I would have told mom I want to be a psychiatrist instead of a singer. Think about it, sit in lavish room, listen to people talk, give some good advice and poof, a few grand exchanged hands. A penny for your thought? More like a few thousands.
I would have just gone up to Brian if I need to talk to a friend. Or any of the guys for that matter.
"Are you even listening Nick?"
"Are you?" I asked. I did learn a thing or two at the session though.
"Am I what?" Jim said, practically spat the words out. At least he had stopped pacing, it was making me dizzy.
"Are you listening?"
"What's that suppose to mean? I asked you!"
I snickered and leaned back into the sofa, folding my arms across my chest in defiance. "You always ask me and I always listen. I went to that stupid session didn't I? Now the question is, are you even listening to me?"
"If this is about having you out of those sessions, then forget it."
"See, you never listen. It's always your terms, your calls."
"No, it's JIVE's terms, JIVE's calls. I'm not the enemy here."
"So everyone said, until they got what they want and left."
"This is nothing man, you're not the only young celebrity who sees a psychiatrist, almost all of them do. It's normal."
"Normal? Only yesterday you told me it'll help me from going crazy."
Jim was losing his patience by then. Everyone seemed to be losing their patience when things didn't go their way. Much like what I did to that poor doctor.
"You know what, it doesn't matter. We're ordered to have you see a professional and that's what I did. I got you one. Either that or your career on the chopping block. We're going to call that man up tonight and you're going to apologise for being an ass and you'll set a new appointment with him for next week."
And then it happened. He walked out. Like I said, nothing changed.
-
Things will change, I would make sure of that. I decided to leave early that day, since nothing I do could keep me calm. Nick might have problems, but he wasn't exactly wrong. I was never criticised for the way I handled my patients, but this 20 year old did it point blank. And that was disturbing as far as my profession goes.
Marianne had just ended a session with a patient when I stepped out of my office. I managed to convince her to take an early day off. It wasn't difficult though; I bet she was curious to know about my session with God.
Two hours later, we were done having dinner at Long John Silver. It was weird, back in school, we would talked about being successful in our career and dining in expensive restaurants and drink the best of wines but when it happened, we craved for a Mc Donald's set meal and tall cups of Coke. But the real shock was when Marianne never even once touched on the subject of her Idol.
"You know, I have to thank you."
"For what?" She asked.
"All those times when you went on and on about the Backstreet Boys and would never shut up, they finally came in good use."
She smiled mischievously, enjoying every second of it. "Oh?"
"Yeah. He was talking about Brian and I guessed the right guy."
"The other blonde?"
"Exactly."
She laughed and popped another fries. "So, is he crazy?"
"No, just angry."
"Just?"
"A little lost."
"A lot lost," Marianne said as she paused to take a sip of her drink. "You don't have to have him in your office to see that."
"I don't?"
"I watch him on TV John, it's enough."
Marianne loves talking in codes, she wouldn't tell your straight in your face what she felt you should do. She said it gave room for a person to think on their own, I always told her it was her way to make someone confused.
"You're saying I should start marathon with your collection?"
That got her laughing out loud. "You wouldn't make it to the other side."
"That much huh?"
"Yup."
"What you think I should do then? You're the expert about him."
"Think John, he's 20. Where were you when you're his age?"
"College."
"Right. But he's not."
"Yeah, his Nick Carter."
"Exactly."
"Exactly what?" For once I wish I could understand this woman.
"He's not just another troubled 20 year old John. He's different."
So what Marianne was trying to tell me was, I had to change the game. It's a different court I'm playing at. I was down with that. I told you there would be changes.
-
I swallowed my pride and made that stupid phone call and apologised. He told me it was okay, that he understood where I was at. That was his problem, he thought he understands. Everyone thought they understood me. I figured he would say something like that though, besides, listening to me thickens his wallet. See what the world evolves around? Whoever created currencies must be shot!
We had another full daybreak this week so I was scheduled for another appointment. While Kevin and Brian spent the day out with the wives, Howie and AJ hopped clubs with their girlfriends, I was to be locked in some stupid office, talking about my 'problems', and they wondered why Mandy wasn't talking to me. Sheesh!
I spent the night talking to AJ and he said he'd die if he were to be in my position. He said I was stronger than him to go through it even. I told him I had no other choice and I didn't want to make a big deal out of it and got the group in trouble. He told me the guys would willingly be in that trouble with him. He was giving me the green light to rebel.
I would have taken that opportunity if it were Kevin who told me that. But we're talking about AJ; he's always about rebelling, so I wasn't sure if he really meant it. So I did the next best thing for everyone. I went along. It would keep the group safe and got Jim to shut up.
When I stepped into the office for the second time however, I was met with a different man.
-
The expression on his face was right on.
"Have a seat Nick." He literally flinched when I called him by his name. He sat there in his buttoned yellow polo shirt and a darker shade of beige pants, still, the Nike shoes were there. He likes licking his lips when he was nervous, I noticed.
"How was your day?" I asked casually as I sat facing him.
"You're not wearing a suit."
I smiled. "Yeah, I noticed. So how was your day?"
"What, you forgot to pick them up at the cleaners? Or are you going somewhere else after this? Golf?"
"No, I'm not going anywhere after this. Are you going to avoid my question from now on?"
He leaned back on the sofa and shook his head. "I'm sorry…it's just that, I went through so much interviews, it's nice to ask someone else questions instead."
I nodded. "Okay, fair enough…so I take it your day went well?"
"It went normal so far. We had the entire day to ourselves and everyone's kinda out."
"And you're stuck here."
"Yeah."
"Look, you hate being here right?"
He shrugged. "There're other places I hate more than here but yeah, right now, I hate here."
"But you have no choice?"
"Uhuh."
"Okay lets make a deal then."
"Deal?"
"I'll be myself if you'll be you."
He studied me with his eyes; check me out like I was gift on display. "So wearing a t-shirt and jeans makes you?"
"This is how I dress when I'm not working."
"Dressing like this doesn't cut it. You're still my doctor."
"And I can't be anything else but that. You said so yourself, you're in this business cause you love to entertain but at the end of the day, you earn from it too. You get paid. And if you don't, you sue them, like what you did to Lou Pearlman. I love my job, this is what I do, and I get paid for it. Are we any different in that sense?"
I got him stumped. He scratched his head and then sighed. "Okay, you got a point."
I nodded. "And I'm not going to use any notepads and if you want, we can have our sessions out in the open, doesn't have to be in this office."
I caught his attention. This boy was made for the outdoors, Marianne was right.
"You can do that?"
"Sure. How about we start right now? There's Starbucks down the road."
He went silent again, thinking. "What's in it for you? I know nothing comes for free."
"Just let me do my job. Let me help you."
"But I don't need any help."
"Fine. Work with me and show everyone that you don't need my help. We'll do this at your pace, whatever you want to share, I won't probe into stuff you don't want me to."
"So that's it? I just have to co-operate? Nothing else?"
I couldn't help it. "There might be one more."
"Why am I not surprise?"
I smirked. "I show you what I'm comfortable in. I want you to show me the same."
"You're saying something's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
"Tell me you're comfortable in them and I'll shut up."
He smirked. "They made me wear this."
"Sometimes the clothes do not make the man."
"George Michael." He smiled. "I'm listening."
"Just wear something that you want for a change. Take control."
He nodded thoughtfully. "I can do that."
"Okay then, lets hit the coffee joint."
-
Marianne was right; I wasn't dealing just another ordinary 20 year old.
"I'm afraid you can't do that." Rob, his bodyguard said.
So close. Just a few steps away out of the building.
"It's across the road Rob. And he's coming with me."
"You'll get mob. We don't want attention."
"But-"
"I'm sorry Mr. Reitt, but I received strict order from Mr. Walker about this. We can't risk unwanted attentions."
Nick was beyond disappointed. "I understand, it's okay; come on Nick, back in my office, for now."
"But you said we can do these session anywhere! Talk to Jim, he'll let me go if you talk to him."
He really hates my office. "I will, but lets talk things out in my office. I promise I'll call him."
The cloud was dark, hanging above his head. He walked away from the bodyguard not as much as a glance and back into my office. Seconds later, he was back on that sofa, frustrated as hell.
"See why I told you there can never be change? I'm stuck."
And I understood. I totally did. I saw what Marianne meant now. So lost.
2
Jonathan Reitt never went down without a good fight. In fact, obstacles only made it more exciting, it was a personal challenge. So Nick was not allowed to attend sessions outdoors, then we’ll have it indoor. Who says it had to be boring in here?
I know this was going all way out for a patient and some might took it the wrong way. I had reservations accepting Nick as my patient in the first place. I know there would be talks of how Jonathan Reitt finally got a break and had a Backstreet Boy to crack. They always think it was about the money, but I couldn’t be bothered by them. Marianne and I were still considered newbies in our line of work, there would be criticism.
When Marianne walked into my office that Saturday morning, her mouth was slightly gap opened, her face a picture of amusement and shock. She couldn’t keep her eyes away from the four men who were walking around in my office. I waved her over and even when she had stood next to me, she had nothing to offer.
“Jealous?” I asked.
“For what?”
“So you’re not?”
“Should I?”
“Shouldn’t you?”
“Does Alfred know?”
“As in the old man who owns this building?”
“Do you know any other Alfred?”
“What if I do?”
“Don’t you think he’s gonna kick your ass out for this?”
“Depends on which Alfred you’re talking about.”
“Do you know the Alfred who owns this company?”
“Why do you wanna know?”
“Are you hiding something from me?”
“Why do think that?”
“Why didn’t you answer my question?”
“Which one?”
“Are you doing this for Nick?”
“Are you changing the subject?”
“Are you avoiding my question?”
“What’s the difference then?”
“There’s a difference?”
“I don’t know, you tell me.”
“Ha! That’s not a question, you lose buddy!”
I rested my hand on her shoulder and gave it a pat. “I thought I’d let you win this time, for old times sake.”
She laughed. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you lose the last round too?”
“I’m correcting you, I didn’t lose last time.”
“Did too!” She cried, slapping me on the hand.
“Well, you cheated.”
“You’re such a sore loser John.” Don’t I know it?
“So, all these for my Nick huh?”
“Your Nick? Girl wake up, he’s too young for you.”
“So? Brian married an older woman.”
“And we’re talking about…”
She sighed. “Okay fine, it’s not an offence to fantasise you know.”
“We can’t have our sessions outdoor and like you said Marianne, he’s made for the outdoors. That’s a problem right there.”
She nodded, like as if that wasn’t news flash for her. I should have known. This was something to be expected and it didn’t even cross my mind.
“But he also spends a lot of his time behind closed doors John, just like this room. Is this where you’re going now?”
I nodded. “I’m gonna try this, I hope it works.”
She turned around to my desk and her eyes immediately caught sight of the framed picture standing there amidst the pencil holders. She reached out for it and studied the picture in it. We took that picture while in Paris. It was romantic, everything in Paris was romantic.
“You always overcome the odds John, I’ve seen you pulled through many times, this will be no different.”
She wasn’t talking about Nick, I knew that much. I reached for the picture and she willingly passed it over.
“I don’t even know if it was worth it the last time.” I said. I knew I was threading on dangerous grounds, but I had to let her know.
“When it’s for someone you love, it’s always worth it.”
I looked at the picture. We were both smiling and hugging. Bianca and I.
“That’s the problem Marianne, I’m not even sure if it’s love anymore.”
“Well, that’s not the case with Nick, now is it? Love was never an issue.” She laughed, breaking the tense. “Because if it is, then it’s time you get out of your closet and tell me the truth Mister! I am not anti-gays.”
Sometimes I wonder what I would be like without her.
A much sane human being, I bet.
-
Jim didn’t like what I was wearing for my therapy session but he knew I was too pissed off over the last argument that he didn’t say a thing about it. Brian thought I looked good and told me to ignore our PR. “He’s always bitching about something Nick.”
“So you really think this is okay?”
“Are you comfortable?” Brian was beginning to sound like my doctor. MY doctor. I had a doctor. He sits around and listen to me bitch about life. My doctor had the power to give a nod or not about my sanity and JIVE would handle from there. So much for controlling my own life.
“Yeah.”
“Then it’s okay.”
“You really think so?”
Brian got up from my bed and stood next to me, both watching our reflection on the mirror. I used to have to look up to meet his eyes; then out of nowhere my body started to grow and never looked back.
“You’re meeting your psychiatrist Nick, not some chick.”
“Chicks wouldn’t even give a second look at this.” I said, flapping my shirt.
“You wouldn’t know for sure.”
“Well, the one I’m dating wouldn’t.”
“Cause she’s seen you in worst.” Brian laughed. “Trust me, Leigh wouldn’t stop whatever she’s doing if I pass her by in those too, it’s normal man.”
“Yeah, maybe I’m just paranoid.”
“You just miss her, that’s all.”
Maybe that was it. I admit I wasn’t being the world’s best boyfriend either, I was too busy angry at the world to call her.
“Brian?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you ever going to grow, cause the view up here is much better tha-” I couldn’t finish that sentence, I was busy saving my butt from grumpy dwarf. Haven’t you heard? He escaped Disneyland.
-
We lost track of time, Marianne and I. But it wasn’t entirely our fault, Titanic was three hours long. We didn’t hear the knocks on the door and Nick had let himself in. I noticed he apologised a lot.
“I’m sorry, I must have got the wrong office.”
I reached for the remote control and put the movie at pause. Marianne however, got up immediately, as if she was caught doing something wrong. It was funny. I would have laugh at her expense if it wasn’t for the fact that it was her fantasy standing in the same room as her.
“I knocked but you didn’t answer and Jessica said you’re in your office so I just-” he stopped mid sentence and then turned awfully red. “Were you two…I’m sorry, I’ll just wait out-”
“No! It’s not like that,” Marianne cut in, eager to clear the air. I found it entertaining. “we’re colleagues, really.”
“Are you sure? I can always-”
“Nick, this is Marianne, my colleague.” I introduced. “Her office is next to mine.”
“Yeah, we’re on a break and thought we watch Titanic.” Marianne was eager, did I mention that before?
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, I shouldn’t have assume-”
“No, I’M sorry, I should be gone by now, I know you’re coming, we lost track of time I guess.”
Nick stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do, until something seemed to snap and a smile was back on his face. “I’m sorry, I’m Nick.” He extended his hand for a handshake. I could only imagine the 1001 things that were going on in Marianne’s head right then. Oh my God, Nick wants to shake my hand! probably one of them.
“Don’t be sorry you’re Nick, I’m not.” If his face could get any more red. I think I felt myself blushing right along. Marianne Nicosia was hitting on Nick Carter. She was so going to get it from me later. She was never going to live it down, I’d make sure of that.
“Er…so, you were watching Titanic huh?”
“Yeah.” I said, distracting Nick while Marianne recovered herself.
“You watch how Jack and Rose did anything to stay together for three hours only to find out that he died in the end.”
The smile on Marianne’s face vanished. “He died?”
“Wait, you two haven’t watch it before, have you?” We shook our heads. “Oh man, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Another thing I noticed about Nick Carter. He got easily distracted and never liked to finish his sentences. “What happened to this office?”
Honestly, I was beginning to feel a little bit disappointed that he didn’t realised the changes at first. But right then, my head was practically screaming not to smile, not to smile. Be professional.
“You like it?”
“Like it? I LOVE it!” He exclaimed, his eyes darting from one corner to another. “Why the sudden change?”
“For a lot of reasons, we’ll talk about it.”
“And that’s my cue to leave.” Marianne said, chuckling like a school girl. I felt embarrassed for her. But Nick seemed oblivious about it.
“It’s nice meeting you Miss Marianne.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.” It was hilarious seeing her trying to be charming. “I’ll see you around again.” I bet.
Once she was out the door, Nick’s attention went back to the room, marvelling at the sight. I on the other hand, was studying his attire. So this was the real Nick Carter.
“You look like you just got out of bed.” It was interesting. His white shirt had creases on them, like he had taken it right out of the dryer and his pair of faded jeans looked like he had picked it up right from the floor. The Nike shoes was the only thing that remained the same. His hair was towel dried and by the look of it, he didn’t seem bothered to have it combed. The only thing that was fresh about Nick Carter, was his face. The faint scent of cream bath and talc still lingered around him.
“I always look like this, that’s why we need make up artist and stylist. Well, more so me then the guys.” He said and then his eyes laid on something else. “Are those M&Ms edible?”
“Yeah, help yourself.” He took the seat on the sofa and then paused.
“Wow, I love this sofa. So bouncy.” He said and then picked a green M&M and popped it in his mouth. Another thing I noticed about Nick Carter - he was careful. He could have buried his palm in the bowl and grab a handful of those but picked only one. And he chose what colour he wanted instead of randomly picking one.
“How come you have a sofa too? Didn’t like that single chair you had?”
“Between you and me, I don’t like the idea of seeing my patients lying on the sofa while I had to sit straight for an hour.”
He laughed and I saw him loosened up a bit. “Well, between you and me, I don’t like the idea of sitting here and having someone look at me like I had grown a second head.”
“But you’re used to people always looking at you.”
“That’s different. Every time I came here, I know you’re studying me. And when I leave, you’ll start making a report on my progress or whatever. That bothers me a lot. Like I’m a subject to your study or something.” He turned to the left, his stare stretched beyond the coffee table next to him and further still until he reached the window. His gaze dropped when he found it hidden behind heavy curtains, only to see the bowl of M&Ms again. I thought I saw tinge of thrill, one of those blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of moment. It was gone in less than a second, but it was there. He turned to face me again. “Can I have another one?”
I had my suspicions that this boy grew up following a certain set of rules and answer to someone powerful. I admit, I was curious to know if he was brought up that way too. And if he wasn’t, how did he forget his life before being famous. The times when he didn’t have to answer to someone else and was free to make his own decisions.
“You can have as much as you want, you don’t have to ask me every single time.” I said.
“Sorry, I’m irritating aren’t I?”
“Do you always say sorry?”
“Only if I’m wrong.”
“But there’s nothing wrong with asking me about wanting an M&M, you’re not being irritating. What makes you think that I thought you’re irritating?”
He shrugged. “I got that a lot.”
“That you’re irritating?” He nodded.
“So you just assume I thought that.” He nodded. Shifting on his seat, I waited to see if he wanted to say something else other than nod.
“I think it became a habit, saying sorry to everything. It’s easier than arguing on and on about some stuff.”
“What if you’re trying to make a point? Don’t you argue about it?”
“Only if it concerns me only. Most of the time I lost but I argue about it. If it’s about the band, then we compromise, sometimes I got what I wanted, sometimes I don’t.”
“Nick?”
“Yeah?”
“You didn’t take the M&Ms.”
“Oh.” He did the same thing. Took his time to pick a colour. This time, he settled for blue.
“Personally, I prefer the original M&Ms but they ran out of stock or something.”
He munched the single candy with his mouth closed, again surprising me. Us guys munch with mouths wide open, the pigs that we are. I took it as a sign that he wasn’t ready to open up his true self with me. But it’s okay.
“I like these better, nuts make it crunchy. Like you know, when you bite it, you’re expecting to feel the crunch on your teeth, it’s like expecting for a prize.” I gave that a thought. Kyle might agree with him. Kyle was also my seven year old nephew.
“Hmmm… never thought about it that way.”
“So, when are we gonna get down to business?” He was changing. He sat up straight, as if ready to battle the onslaught of questions. The ones that were supposed to be technical and somehow important in determining the outcome of this session.
“Can we agree on something?”
“About what?”
“Well, for starters, you have got to throw whatever assumptions you have about psychiatrists out the window. And I will throw whatever assumptions I have about young celebrities out the window too.”
He gave it a thought, which wasn’t that long, and then nodded in agreement. “I like that.”
“And I have a suggestion about you being uncomfortable of the fact that I write reports on you after every session.”
I got his attention now. He seemed almost hopeful. He didn’t have to say it cause it was loud and clear for me to hear. You mean, you’re not going to write about me?
“I will write my report after every session we had, and you’ll write your own report. And since my report will focus on you and what I think about you after that session, you’ll do the same for your report.”
Surprised isn’t even the word for the expression on his face.
“You mean, I get to analyse you?”
“If that’s how you look at it. I prefer to call it a journal. Only that my journal only talks about the sessions I had with you.”
“Okay…but then what? Do I have to show anybody what I wrote?”
“It’s your journal. Do you let people read your journal?” He shook his head. “There’s your answer.”
“But you’re gonna show your journal to JIVE.”
“It doesn’t work that way Nick. Whatever I write in there is between me and my patient, that’s you. They’ll only get to read my final report and that will only happen after you and I are done.”
He bit his lower lip and suddenly, the melancholy set in again. “When will that be, do you think? A few months? A year? How long?”
“I tell you what, the day when you leave this office feeling like you’ve somehow become a better person for yourself and to people who matters in your life, you can stop coming. You have a choice. Either pretend that you’re okay so you can escape from this place, or make full use of it and do what you feel is good for you.”
“They don’t believe me. That’s why I’m here, for you to decide when I’m okay.”
“You’re here because it’s time to take control of your own life, it has got nothing to do with ‘they’. Now when that day comes, you tell me, and we’ll call it a day.”
He went silent.
“How does it feel to have control?”
He smirked, eyeing me shyly. “Overwhelming.”
“Well, that’s a start.”
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