Paperboy. (h.s. au)

28.

Today, I go to see my therapist for the first time in forever. I'm pretty nervous and extremely reluctant to go, but I have to humor my mother.

The other only reason I'm willing to go is because of the plans I've made. After my appointment. With Harry.

We can't really do anything too fun or exciting since I'm broken. So we'll probably sit around and watch the tv or something. Who knows.

My mom pulls up to the office building where Renee works and puts the car in park. "Do you want me to walk you in?"

God, no. "No, that's okay. I'm good. I'll be careful." If my mom walked me into therapy...

I'm more than grateful that Harry never pressed me about who Renee was or why I had to see her. I mean, he's now aware of my condition and everything but he does not need to know that I need therapy.

My mother keeps a steady eye on me as I clamber out of the car with my crutches. I secure everything and wave her goodbye. She drives away and I sigh, turning to the door. How do I open this...

Very carefully but ungracefully, I lean forward, rocking on my working leg to open the door. I grab the handle and swing it forward, holding onto it for dear life. One of my crutches falls and I groan in frustration.

After about five long minutes of trying to get through the door, riding the elevator up to the third floor, and finding my way to Renee's office, I'm exhausted already.

I tap her door with a crutch and it almost immediately opens. With a big smile, my friendly therapist opens her arms. "Robin! Come in! It's been so long!" That it has.

"Hi! Nice to see you." I have to pretend I'm happy to be here or I'll only stay longer.

She ushers me in and settles me down on the cushy couch to the side of her desk. I sit where I used to and rest the crutches on the arm of the couch.

The rest seems too familiar and it makes me uncomfortable. I thought I'd gotten over this. She takes her glasses off, puts away her notebooks, and takes out my folder. She knows I don't like when she takes notes on me. I suspect she does that after I leave.

Here goes...

"So I hear you had an accident...and a major relapse." She looks up at me, her warm features filled with concern and curiosity. She's doing it again- trying to figure me out.

I only nod and bite my lip. I try not to show much emotion in these sessions, but I know today will be different. I think she knows, too.

"Talk about it. Tell me about your last few weeks." She sits back in her chair and starts spinning around in it. It takes some pressure off, knowing she's not staring at me as if I were under a microscope. I sit back, slightly more comfortable.

"Well. I'd been taking my medicine every morning after breakfast. I wrote things down when I felt the urge. I read, took pictures, made a new friend..." I sigh, "but every now and then, I would just feel disinterested. I wanted to go home and lie down. Almost all of my interactions were forced and tired me." She keeps spinning and hums when I pause.

"So, I don't know. I didn't really think anything of it. I'm so accustomed to feeling that way."

She cuts in, "You made a new friend?" She sounds excited, proud.

"Yeah...yeah I did."

She smiles and looks at me as if telling me tell me about it! So I do.

"Well. His name is Harry. He's really fun. And I was just going to tell you how I only ever feel really happy when I'm with him. Or comfortable, or like myself. I can be myself with him," I smile to myself, realizing how much he really means to me. "And I don't know, I just get so happy around him and I want to be with him all the time. He's the local paperboy and it's really cool and he wants to be around me too. He doesn't think I'm crazy and it's really...nice." I sigh happily. I'd never had to talk to anyone about him and now that I have, I never want to stop.