Fools in Love

35. Noah

Noah

The feeling of dread fell over me the moment I stepped into the aged, bricked building. Anger management; that was part of my sentence the judge ordered from my fight with Boring Ben.

I knew this was better than being locked up, but to sit in a room surrounded by other angry assholes and getting lectured by a forty year old in a sweater vest was not how I wanted to spend my Saturday morning.

Before I could walk into the room that led to the anger management class, I had to sign in. A heavier set woman with cat-eye glasses and frizzy hair sat behind a white tabled with sign in sheets. "ID?" She asked with a tone drier than a desert.

After handing her my identification card and signing my name on a sheet of paper attached to a clipboard, I entered the dreaded room.

At least there was coffee and muffins provided. "Blah," scratch the coffee part. I tossed the styrofoam I had just filled with whatever the hell they considered coffee, into a trash bin.

"It's like they want our sessions to start off with us in shitty moods from the piss water coffee," a guy said with a chuckle from beside me.

Looking at him, he seemed to be around my age, his fluffed, dirty blonde hair reminded me of the guys I went to high school with.

"Ha, yeah," I responded, but I didn't care to talk to strangers this early in the morning.

The guy didn't catch on as he extended his hand out to me, "I'm Tyler."

I wanted to roll my eyes; of course a guy named Tyler was in anger management. Holding back my judgment because that would be hypocritical, I shook his hand, "Noah."

"You must be new," Tyler concluded.

"What gave you that impression?" I asked sardonically, walking towards the group of foldable, metal chairs that were set in a circle.

"Regulars know not to drink the coffee," he replied, taking a seat next to me.

"So you're a regular?" I asked because might as well acquaint myself with some people here so it's not miserable the next couple months.

Tyler shrugged, "Only for another month. I flipped a table at work. Now I'm here. You?"

"I got into a fight with someone talking shit," I told him as more people- all different ages- filled in the empty seats.

"Ah, yeah, been there," Tyler laughs as if not being able to control our anger is humorous.

I didn't respond to him, but it didn't matter as the man running the course took his seat, clipboard in hand. "Good morning," he starts off in a slight accent. "Looks like most of us are here, so let's get started. We have some new comers today so let's all welcome them. I'm Dr. Wilson, but you can call me Fred. I have my phd in psychology, I'm originally from Paris France, Bonjour," he greets us before continuing. "I moved to America twenty years ago and have three beautiful children and an equally beautiful wife. Why don't we all go around, introduce ourselves.

After painfully going through everyone's introduction, Dr. Wilson started his lecture first by talking about the triggers of anger and opening up the discussion to others about what triggers them.

"Noah, do you have anything to add?"

Ugh. But I have to participate. Sitting up from my slouching, I cleared my throat, "I guess, um..." I didn't know specific triggers for my anger because it felt like anything could trigger it. "That shit coffee triggers me," I answered in nonchalance. I was mainly joking, but I had a feeling any sarcastic answer was gonna turn into a lecture.

The group chuckled at that, but Dr. Wilson just smiled and raised his coffee cup, "That's why I bring my own. I get it; not only do you not want to be here, you have to wake up earlier than anyone wants to. The least this place can do is have decent coffee. Would you say that when things don't meet your expectations, your disappointment is displaced with anger?"

"But I don't have any expectations," I replied. "I don't care."

"Don't you? I think everyone, whether consciously or not, has expectations."

"Okay, what's your point?"

"There are many different feelings we go through throughout our day, and often times than not, anger isn't the true root to our feelings. Take Tyler for instance," Dr. Wilson turned his focus on his subject, "You mentioned your workplace is a trigger for you; your coworkers not pulling their weight, your manager not taking accountability. At a place of work, you'd expect the job to be done with others doing their part. When that doesn't happen, you might feel disappointed, but that anger in you outweighs the root in which you're feeling, so you react out of anger by flipping your desk rather than having a discussion with your boss."

Looking back at me, Dr. Wilson continued, "So, Noah, and to everyone, next time you're feeling angry, think about the root of the feeling. Were you really feeling disappointed? Embarrassing? Betrayed? Once you find the root, you might also find that your reaction to be different."

*

After my group session, Dr.Wilson signed off on my paperwork. I just needed 22 more hours to complete.

On my drive home, I thought about times I felt angry, specifically towards my father. Being angry every time he hit me I also felt embarrassed for not fighting back; embarrassed knowing my friends and Sam would see me with a black eye or bruise.

How disappointed I felt every time he wouldn't show up for me like a father's supposed to do. Feeling uncomfortable around my dad's friends and him not caring.

Maybe the anger management was good for me.

"How was it?" Sam questioned me as soon as I entered our apartment.

"Long, boring," was my response as I tossed my keys on the counter.

"Did you learn anything?" He asked enthusiastically. Sam was glad I was taking the anger management classes, mainly because it meant I stayed out of jail, but also because he thought it would help me.

"It was just the first class, but," I shrugged, "I guess I learned that maybe not everything I get angry about, I'm not actually angry."

Sam smiled broadly, "I'm proud of you for going."

I chuckled, rolling my eyes, "It's court mandated, Sam, I have no choice."

"Have you talked to your parole officer about attending their wedding?" He asked in regard to my brother's wedding I'm supposed to stand up for in a month.

"I did and I'm cleared to go," I said happily.

"Really? Oh that's great," Sam spoke with enthusiasm before giving me a kiss. "You're gonna look so sexy up there in your tux."

"Maybe we'll find a closet to get it on in," I suggested, pulling him closer to me.

"As long as you don't miss your speech," he reminded me.

"Ugh, I hate speeches, I haven't even started on it."

"Just say mushy shit about their relationship," Sam shrugged. "I can read it after you write it."

"How 'bout I wing it?" I offered, but Sam rolled his eyes.

"How 'bout you don't do that."

I was definitely going to wing it.

**
I had to write a speech for my sister's wedding and I didn't write it down until the day of her wedding, but my speech was the best speech of the night😏

Thank you for reading! Much love

Xoxo, Bert