førest // tøp

t w o

Tyler can tell Dr. Paulson has had a long day.

"Everything all right with your wife, Doctor?" Tyler asks politely.

"Peachy," Dr. Paulson huffs, flopping down onto his chair. "Chocolate or lollipop?"

"Lollipop," Tyler answers. He likes to suck them as obscenely as possible once in a while, just to check Dr. Paulson's priorities.

The lollipop is red, tasting green-red-yellow, like cherries. Tyler's careful to rub it across his lips, making them as red as possible.

"Last session we discussed books," Dr. Paulson says, not paying attention to Tyler's treatment of his lollipop. "And headaches."

"Those two may as well be synonymous," Tyler says.

"Yes, you mentioned that many times," Dr. Paulson says, sounding tired.

"And the Bible-"

"-has such small print you may as well be looking at a rainbow," the doctor finishes.

"Although the first part-"

"-of Genesis is almost entirely green, so you can read it," Dr. Paulson says. "I take very good notes, remember?"

"I remember," Tyler says in the same tone he uses with his mother.

Dr. Paulson, who is entirely familiar with Tyler's vocal tones, sighs.

"Tyler, I'm sorry I'm not at the top of my game today," he says. He leans forward, and Tyler jerks back so quickly that the lollipop almost goes down his throat. "Sorry, sorry," Dr. Paulson apologizes. He takes off his glasses so he can scrub his face with his hand. "I'm so sorry, Tyler."

Tyler doesn't say anything. He thinks that if he opens his mouth, nothing but the 'gibberish' only Josh seems to understand would fall out. His heart's pounding in his chest, and he places his hand over it. Dr. Paulson follows his movements and winces.

"I'm so sorry, Tyler," he repeats. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm okay," Tyler says, pleased when he hears them come out as 'normal' words.

"You're not, Tyler," Dr. Paulson says with a sigh. "You're not okay." He shakes his head slowly, as if to clear it. "What do you want to talk about today?"

Tyler shrugs. "I don't know."

"Have you been writing?" Dr. Paulson asks.

"A little," Tyler mutters, picking a loose thread on his jeans.

"Have you written about anything particularly interesting?"

"The treehouse," Tyler says, before wishing he didn't say anything because Dr. Paulson's eyes go blue-orange-green, all interested and almost hungry-looking.

"What treehouse?" Dr. Paulson asks, jotting something down in his notebook.

"We- I found a treehouse in the woods," Tyler murmurs, scowling down at the carpet. He feels oddly exposed now.

"What was the treehouse like?" the doctor asks, not looking up from his notebook.

"I dunno. Woody." Yellow-purple. The way wet chalk feels. The lowest B on his piano.

"Do your parents know about the treehouse?" Dr. Paulson asks.

"Does it matter?" Tyler says, a little more defensively than he intended.

Dr. Paulson blinks. "I suppose it doesn't," he says slowly. "I just wanted to know if you've been talking to them."

"You could've just asked them that," Tyler points out. "You could've just asked me that."

"You're right, Tyler. I'm sorry," Dr. Paulson says, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Have you been talking to your parents?" Tyler snorts. "I thought so." The doctor leans forward slowly, so Tyler has time to prepare for his presence. "I think you should talk to them, Tyler. They really care about you."

"They don't." Tyler knows he sounds like a child, like the smell of orange peels, but he doesn't care.

"They do, Tyler. And they were so, so upset when they found out what had happened to you."

"They never believed me."

"Tyler, you weren't very easy to understand then," Dr. Paulson says gently. "You still aren't, honestly."

"You seem to manage."

"I've known you for a long time now, Tyler."

"So have my parents."

"Have they really?"

Tyler is silent for a moment. "No." He pauses. "They don't know me at all."

"Tyler, have you ever thought about making peace with your parents?" Dr. Paulson asks.

Tyler scowls. "They should be the ones making peace with me."

"They're trying, Tyler, really," the doctor says. "I guess you haven't noticed, but they're trying to make amends."

"Well, they're doing a heck of a job," Tyler mutters.

Dr. Paulson ignores that comment. "They said they've been trying to take you out more and participate in family activities."

"I hate crowds," Tyler tells his doctor. "I hate board games. I hate TV."

"They don't know what you like, Tyler," Dr. Paulson says. "But I'm sure they'll be happy to do whatever you do like with you."

"I..." Tyler pauses. "There's nothing that I like to do."

Dr. Paulson goes quiet for a moment. "You like Josh."

Tyler blinks. "What?" Dr. Paulson has never willingly brought up the topic of Josh before.

"I'm not saying that Josh is real, Tyler," the doctor says quickly. "But maybe you could try telling someone in your family about him."

"And what purpose would that serve, other then to cater my delusions?"

"It'll help you open up," Dr. Paulson says, ignoring his sarcasm. "You're much easier to understand when you're talking about something you're passionate about."

Tyler thinks about this. "You'll have to tell my parents that it okay for me to talk about Josh."

Dr. Paulson sighs. "I didn't mean for that to happen when I told them about Josh, Tyler. I'm sorry."

Tyler shrugs. "Whatever."

Dr. Paulson nods slowly to himself, jotting something down in his notebook. "I'll talk to them."