AJ stepped inside the therapist's building. He slowly walked up to the sign-in desk; was that Kevin?
"Kevin?" he asked quietly. Sure enough, Kevin turned around. "What...what are you doing here?" AJ squeaked.
"God, it's been a year..." Kevin whispered after a few minutes.
"Year? Kev, what's wrong?" asked AJ.
"Don't tell the guys, especially not Brian....but I....I have depression."
AJ's jaw dropped and he gazed at Kevin, searching his face for sadness. When his eyes looked into Kevin's, he finally saw it.
People say that the eyes are the windows to a person's soul. As AJ looked into Kevin's, he found this statement was true. He had never seen sadness in anyone's eyes before.
"I...I'm sorry," AJ said softly. Kevin shrugged, his eyes blocking up.
"I'll deal with it," he said. AJ watched him walk into one of the rooms.
"May I help you?" the receptionist asked. AJ looked at her.
"Yeah. I'm AJ McLean, I had an appointment.."
"..with Dr. Philips. Go right on in; room fifteen."
"Okay, thanks," AJ mumbled. He really didn't feel like doing this at all. Hell, it was bad enough that he had been found out [he still hadn't gotten over the fact that Howie had ratted], but having to admit it to someone who could help you was worse. He felt like he would lose all of his self-pride and dignity if he admitted to this guy that he was, infact, a drug-a-holic.
He stepped into the room, looking around. It was lowly lit; a nice change from the bright office lights. He stood by the door, fidgeting.
"You can sit down." A feminine voice. A female!
AJ stumbled to a chair and settled into it, trying to relax into the cushion. That was about as impossible as trying to make a penguin fly. The therapist leaned forward, her face coming into view. She was wearing a pouty light pink smile, sporting dark hazel eyes and a mop full of brown curls on her head.
"My name is Dr. Philips, you can call me Jean. Whichever suits you best," she said, sticking out her hand. AJ took it, gave it a shake, and then released it. He settled his hands into a neat pile in his lap.
"I'm AJ McLean," he said, lowering his eyes. He felt naked without his sunglasses shielding them; he didn't want anyone to look into his eyes and see anything.
"All right, AJ. If you don't mind, I'm going to ask you a few questions," Dr. Philips said. She picked up a pen and clipboard.
"Hey, wait," AJ interrupted. "What do you need that for? I thought this was confidential!"
"It is," Jean said calmly. "I'm just going to take notes to chart your progress."
"Then no one will see this, not even that receptionist out there?" AJ asked. "No showing anyone, at ALL?"
"No, AJ. I won't show it to anyone unless you want me to. Usually that doesn't happen," Jean said.
"Well. I don't know," AJ said. He looked at her. "You won't show this to the police, will you? I could get in deep shit for this, you know.."
"Look. We don't show this stuff to anyone, not even the police. Unless you keep doing whatever you are. In your case, it would be drugs. If you keep it up, yes, we may have to call the police. Anything to help you."
"I'm out of here," AJ said. "Screw you and this stupid counseling shit. I'll be fine on my own." With that, he stood, bolted out of the room, down the hall, and out the doors. Dr. Philips shook her head, standing. She walked into the hall and watched him storm off.
"He'll be back," she said to the receptionist, who just nodded.
