The first thing I heard was the door open and close in a harsh manner. I can't say that I wasn't startled, because I nearly fell out of my chair. I heard heavy footsteps coming from behind me. The one person that I hate, yet love the most sat down behind the desk in front of me. My plus quickened.
She took a drink from an old water bottle and began writing nonsense onto a clipboard. "Good morning, Harry. I'm sorry for being late, I lost track of time."
"Well it wouldn't be the first time," I said as stroked my new suede boots. She looked up at me for a split second and then continued writing. I hate when she does this, makes me guess. She likes to pretend that I don't know.
"So," she began, "How are you today?" She finally stopped scribbling and paid attention to me. Suddenly I could think again.
"Okay, I guess. Things haven't really been the same since, well, you know," I responded calmly. I watched for her facial expression. "It's been real hard to focus anymore. Everything seems to be slipping from my hands again."
"Again?" she pushed.
I sighed, "Well, since he left."
"Lucas?"
"Yes, him." I paused, studying her stern lips. It's funny how therapists always act so robotic, like we don't know that they have their own lives. "Ever since my home has felt, well, not like home. It's too quiet and it's making me feel trapped."
She began writing again. "Have you ever thought of moving in with your mother? Maybe that would give you a sense of peace after all of the trauma you've been through." I laughed.
"Right! Like my selfish mum would take me back. I practically called her a cunt when I left. She'd never want to see me again," Dr. Whitney clung to my words, struggling to make some of her own.
She set her clipboard down and leaned closer to me, as if she was trying to tell me that she was really listening. "You'd be surprised, Harry, mothers have a way of forgiving."
"You haven't met my mother, Sara."
She swallowed hard, "Please, Harry. Stick to Dr. Whitney." I blew out trapped air. Rolling my eyes, I remembered what Sara had said last time.
"Sorry."
"Now please do me the honor of telling me why we're really here today. I know you didn't schedule a last minute appointment to have a jolly chat." I clenched my jaw.
"Fine, you caught me. I just can't get enough of you," she blushed as if I was serious.
"Well you are in quite the mood, aren't you?" she licked her pale pink lips, "I know you better than anyone, Harry. You don't go places unless you need something. So go on, spit it out, my love."
I paused, thinking long and hard, "I need you to find someone for me. And before you ask, yes, he's real this time," she chuckled, I glared at her, "Sara, this is serious."
She caught herself and replied, "You're right, you're right. I'm sorry, Harry, go on."
"His name is Louis Tomlinson. He lives somewhere in Seattle, Washington. He's a wealthy businessman and I want him. In fact, I need him."
"What is his business?" she asked.
"He owns a prostitution agency, but that's not the point."
"Okay, so why do you need me?" she badgered.
"Because he's lawyered, tightly lawyered. I tried calling and a perky, little girl answered and told me he isn't taking calls from the public," I made quotation marks with my fingers. She nodded. "Ever since Luke, I haven't been the same. I'm sure you've noticed. I need Louis, okay? I don't care what you do to get him here, but just do it."
I got up from my chair and made my way towards the door. She stopped me. "Harry," I turned, "Is he gay?" I nodded and she smiled.
I couldn't help myself this time.
