Falling

41

Vinny Taylor

"How do you think family therapy went?"

I sat at Dr. Brown's desk while she sat on the other side of it. Whenever I walked into her office, she told me I could sit anywhere, and so I chose her desk just to see how far she would let me go. She took it in stride and sat across from me without a word. Dr. Brown decided to go right in with my thoughts on family therapy, which was something I would rather forget.

"It was fine," I answered in a half truth. It wasn't nearly as bad as it could've been, but it definitely wasn't all rainbows and sunshine.

"I think it was productive, no matter how uncomfortable it might have been for you," she replied. "Did you and your family talk about it afterwards?"

"Barely."

Dad tried because he could never leave well enough alone. He wanted to talk about it even though I told him I would rather die than continue that conversation. He didn't get that I needed a break. A break from therapy, from the heart to hearts, from him.

Not to mention, I had just found out Logan thought Dana was pregnant, so my mind had been elsewhere and I was in no mood to keep talking with my father about how he changed his perception of me.

"What do you mean by that?" Dr. Brown asked. "Did you initiate conversation?"

"Hell no," I said. "Dad did."

"And you didn't think it would be a good idea to talk things out?"

"I think I deserve a break from therapy," I told her and Dr. Brown nodded thoughtfully.

"You do," she agreed. "And if talking things out with your father doesn't seem like a good thing for you to do at home, then maybe it was the right decision not to."

I nodded and let out a huff, resting my elbows down on Dr. Brown's desk and putting my head in my hands.

"Would you say it's hard to live with your father?"

"No," I instantly replied.

We may have had a rough relationship for the last few months, but I still loved my father. There were times when we had an understanding with each other. The problems arose when he crossed boundaries he knew better than to cross.

"It's better than the alternative," I added.

"And what's the alternative?"

That was something I didn't want to get into. Ever since Grandma had found out about my therapy, which I had found out she actually overheard Dad talking about it with Mom instead of Dad telling her about it, she has made it a point to bring up me moving in with Robbie every chance she could sneak it into conversation.

She would talk about Robbie and his kids and how wonderful they were and how I would benefit from being with my real father because he apparently cleaned up his act. Dad would get pissed off every time she said it and she would tell him that he needs to go to therapy for his anger. Little did she know that he did in fact go to therapy, though it was with the rest of us.

She wanted me with Robbie because she felt bad for him or because she was angry with Dad for resenting her and him. Either way it didn't actually matter. Her opinions had no sway on my father and she was just a giant thorn in his side that he was forced to interact with no matter how much it hurt him.

"My grandmother wants me to move in with my biological father," I told her. "It's not really an alternative since my parents would never let it happen, but in the back of my mind there's always the thought that one day, I'll have to face him."