...And I Am Going Home

Oliver 3

"So, how was going back to work?" Kara asked, letting Oliver go from a tight squeeze as he entered her flat above the chippy.

"It was..." Oliver swallowed. "It was the same as it always was." His now rehearsed answer was a mere mumble, losing all believability. It wasn't the same no matter how hard he tried; everything had changed, how all his coworkers treated him, walking around on eggshells from avoiding the topic of the Snickelway monster and the kidnappings, which was all the city could talk about at the moment. Oliver could not avoid it with all of social media still buzzing, pictures of people posing in front of the snickelway where Oliver had been taken, and disappeared, and then an hour later reappeared again inexplicably along with four hundred people. He wondered if he should feel something about this that the site of his kidnapping was now a novel tourist spot being profited from, but he strangely felt rather detached; though that did not stop him from avoiding walking anywhere near it, but that was because of the crowds and not because of anything else because he was fine.

Fortunately, Kara did not press further on the matter of work; perhaps she had noticed his lie, or she just eagerly wanted to talk about the latest episode of her trashy TV show she was recently obsessed with and was now forcing Oliver to watch odd episodes with.

However, Oliver could not focus and was mainly silent, his thoughts concentrating on his therapy session. She did make a fair point that whilst he wasn't paying for the sessions, he should use them how he wished instead of enduring them. And then he felt a pang of guilt as he realised, stupidly late, that his work was paying for these and he was wasting them, something he hated. If someone else were doing this, Oliver would judge them for wasting such a resource or denying help, though Oliver himself didn't need the help because he was fine, but at least he should use it for something.

But if he didn't need help, then what could he do with the time and resources given? Therapists made you talk about your feelings, but Oliver didn't really feel a whole lot about the incident. Maybe that itself was something worth talking about. Talking about it more with her, that he wasn't really affected by it in a more mature way instead of deflecting and repeating himself, he could put an end to the sessions if he explained himself more.

Oliver paused.

This wasn't the only time he felt little to nothing after something happened. For instance, in all of his breakups, he barely reacted. And now he felt little to nothing after Snickelway. Was that something to talk about in the sessions? Was there something wrong with him? Should he be stressed and scared and scarred by what happened even though it was for only an hour? Was he a freak for not feeling anything? Was he a sociopath? Was that the correct word or was it psychopath? No, it would be a sociopath in this situation. He had been told so many times that he seemed uncaring, unthoughtful, blunt, grumpy, expressionless and what if they were right? What if he told the therapist all of this? Would they let him return to work?

"You alright?" asked Kara, peering up at him as she snuggled against his shoulder underneath a blanket. "You want to watch something else? Or do something else?"

Oliver shook his head. "I'm fine," he said.

Kara frowned, likely not believing him but not pressing him to confess. She poked him in the cheek and then returned to watching the television, rating the characters that came on screen on what kind of top/ bottom/ verse they were, which led to a heated debate with Oliver on whether a certain character was a bratty bottom or a bossy bottom, the difference between bratty and bossy being subtle but nuanced and important.