Everyone had started to notice that Harry Lewis, also known as Wroetoshaw, had been acting different. His friends took it upon themselves to book Harry an appointment with the best therapist in town, Abigail Wright.
Harry doesn't want help, but wil...
"That's beautiful," Linda, one of my regulars, let the paintbrush glide along my hand as she created a gorgeous painting of flowers. She'd told me all about her past experience with her husband, and how hard it was for her when he kicked their son out of the house. "I wish I was as talented as you, Linda."
"Oh no, dear, you don't," She smiled as she finished the painting. "I wish I could do what you do."
She was on the older side, with greying hair. The son that had been kicked out was nineteen, and apparently her husband caught him doing drugs in the basement. I gave her the best advice I could think of, though I knew she was one of the few patients that never did ask for advice. "My dad taught me that everyone has gone through their own trials in life. You and I both know that your husband loves Jason, and I can tell you that whatever reason he had for kicking him out was personal. Maybe he had a past of drug use, and he just wanted the best for your family. I've learned that even if you're mad or upset at someone, it's important to tell him how much you love him. Show him kindness, and he'll return it. He may even tell you why he did what he did."
Linda smiled again as she put away the paints. "Thanks, sweetheart, you always know what to say."
My timer went off on my phone and we both sighed, knowing that our time was up. Typically, with her, I'd extend our time together, but I couldn't today.
I had one last appointment to get to.
"Well, I should get going, dear. I'll give you a call to book another appointment."
"I'm always here," I beamed as I stood, and she stood as well. I'd gone for a much more casual look that day, wearing black, high waisted pants and a burgundy top. "Have a great day, Linda."
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She waved and left the office, so I quickly scrambled to grab everything I may have needed for my meeting with Harry before rushing out of the building. I didn't have time to wash the paint off of my hand, but at least it would spark conversation.
He was sitting on the grass, facing away from me, but he heard my footsteps and turned around. He was leaning back on his hands.
He didn't smile at me, he just nodded. "Hey."
"Hey," I sat down next to him, and his eyes immediately went to my paint-covered hand.
He didn't say anything about it, though, and instead he just scoffed and looked away again.
Why was he being so difficult?
I knew when he called that it was him that wanted to be here. I could tell by the shakiness of his voice. He wanted to be here. So why was he acting like he didn't?
I reached into my bag and pulled out a few objects, which he stared at curiously. They were small trinkets that I normally kept in the office for people to fidget with, but I brought them outside in case he needed them.
