My Path To Serenity

Chapter twenty four

             Later that morning: December 24

I stirred up my brown sugar oatmeal, staring blankly off into the distance of the snow melting on the ground through the kitchen windows. "You okay over there?" Alex laughed. I snapped out my daze and returned my focus to reality. "Uh, yeah," I lied. Alex squinted his eyes, catching my lie. "I just figured I'd ask because you've been staring off at that window over there, and you haven't really said a word to David and I all morning." I pushed my food away from me and shrugged. I typically don't talk to them too much anyways, even on a good day. We'll have small chit chat here and there I suppose, but for the most part I keep to myself. I guess just me not greeting them this morning was enough to impose worry. "Have you ever had a dream that was so vividly real, it disturbed you so much when you were awake?" Alex looked at David then back at me. "Uh, on a bad trip maybe." They laughed. I rubbed my face, stressed out. "Is that what happened to you or something?" "Yeah. I had this nightmare I escaped this place, and the cops were after me, and my girlfriend broke up with me, and it was all bad." "Well, you know that would never happen. They have this place armed with more security systems than I could probably count." "So they probably only have like three or four," David laughed. "Anyways, that's why I haven't really been talking this morning." Staff James walked over to our table. "Glad to see you made it for breakfast," he said with a warm smile. "We're gonna have to have a chat later on after therapy group, sound good with you?" What was I supposed to say to that? No, staff James. That actually doesn't sound good with me, and I won't be chatting with you later on. By far he was my favorite staff out of all of them, but the last thing I wanted to do was chat right now. I was still fuzzy about my dream from this morning, I wasn't in the right state of mind to properly hold a conversation. However, later on that day after dreaded therapy, I dragged myself into his office.

It looked nothing like I expected, the walls were painted a dark, apple red, and drawings and letters filled his entire desk. I wish my room looked the way this office did. We deserve to have a colorful room, too. "Don't worry," he began. "You aren't in trouble." I sat back in my chair in relief. I had a mental list of what I could've done wrong to lead me in here on the walk to his office. "So, it's been about a week now. How are you feeling?" I wanted to be honest but kind at the same time to him. "Sober," I chuckled. I thought maybe bringing some humor to the table would've eased some of my anxiety. He nodded, "yeah well, rehab does that to people." He then sat up straight in his chair, going back to his serious self. "Listen, Tristian, I needed to bring it to your attention that I need more from you." I raised my eyebrow, "what does that mean?" I laughed it off. "Staff Tracey and the rest of the crew like to get together and evaluate our clients once a week. We do it to see your progress, and to also have a mutual understanding of what more needs to be done in order to get you on the right path. Are you with me so far?" I nodded. "If you decide to continue to pass in nearly every therapy session, fall asleep in meetings, wake up ten minutes late for breakfast, and show zero interest in bettering your life, it's going to be a serious concern." I didn't say a word. "I think you're a great client," he added. "You don't cause any trouble, you stay to yourself, you're a good kid, but here at Meadow falls, if we don't think you're ready to take this serious, we have to step up and do everything we can to make sure we don't fail you. Look, all I can do is give you the tools. It's up to you to use them. That is, if you want to repair yourself." He he leaned in closer, resting his elbows on his desk. "I see a little bit of you in my younger self. I wish I would've had someone talk to me like this at your age." I nodded, letting all this temporary mess go through one ear and out the other. "Staff Tracey recommended personal therapy sessions with you and her every Monday and Sunday. She also recommended speaking with your probation officer to possibly extending your stay here for another month or two if we feel it's necessary." My eyes widened, and I was utterly disgusted with the idea of that. "gosh, no. I can't do another month here! I have a son back home who needs me and-" he cut me off. "I know, Tristian. Look it's week one, so we've been cutting you some slack. However, if this pattern repeats itself any longer we have to do what we think is right." "And if I do the right thing and do what I'm told?" I asked, biting my nails. "You will be out of here in ninety days like planned. So, here's what we're going to do.." I folded my arms, engaged now that we were on the topic of when I get to leave this misery. He grabbed a piece of paper from the filing cabinet and a felt tip pen. "I want you to be awake the moment that alarm rings. I want you to open up at least a little in therapy. I'm not saying spill your life story every session, but show you want the help we're willing to give. We want you to actually listen in meetings. Meetings saved me and they could save you, too." He handed me a yellow spiraled notebook with a felt tip pen. "Have you ever tried writing your feelings down?" I shook my head and scoffed, completely opposed to the idea. "Come on now Staff James, I'm not keeping a diary." "Journal, notebook, diary.. whatever label you want to call it, it's still a healthy coping skill." I leaned back in my chair pondering the idea. Well, that was until my train of thought was interrupted by a faint knock on his office door.
"Come in," Staff James hollered. Staff Tracey walked in with her clipboard glued to her hands as usual. "Can I speak to you in private, please?" She eyed staff James. He glanced at me before getting out of his chair. "If you'll just excuse me for a moment, please.." I twiddled my thumbs as anxiety took over once I was alone. I stared at the filing cabinet, with the assumption there's at least a hundred different cases. A hundred different people's record. A hundred different addicts. A hundred different lost souls. I spent those few minutes dazing off at all of the photographs and art work all over his walls. Paintings and pictures made by clients and his own children filled up the walls of his office, accompanied by a box of tissues and a bunch of pen holders.
Staff James abruptly opened the door, which startled me a little. He didn't come in any further but just stood in the door way. "Sorry for the interruption," I shrugged it off because it really wasn't a big deal to me. I wasn't entirely thrilled to be in an office at Meadow Falls anyways. "It looks like we're going to have to continue this conversation tomorrow. You have a visitor here." "A visitor? I thought my mother couldn't make it here until three." "From my understanding, I was told it's not your mother." "Then who is it? Jasper and Allison? I didn't think they ever wanted to see me again after I blew up on Charlotte that one day." "Your father came to visit you, Tristian."