[TonyPerry] Now It's Your Turn To Run

Cuatro.

“Hey, Dr. Matthews. I'm Jaime Preciado. And this is Tony Perry.” Holding his hand out for me to shake it, I lean forward on the plush leather chair, sliding my hand in his, watching as his eyes widen as he realizes I'm not shaking like a little girl; my handshake is firmer than his. “Thank you so much for making time for us. I know that your schedule is busy and we all really appreciate it.” He’s too polite, and I hate that, we’re in my office, the room that I rent in an old, reconstructed mansion, and there’s no room for politeness in here, just the truth.

Nodding my head, I glance at Tony, watching how uncomfortable being here makes him and how angry he is that he’s here. “If Mr. Perry does not want to participate, then I will not treat him because it simply will not work. A person only changes when he or she desires to change and as much as I would like to help you, Mr. Preciado, I have clients who want to be here and I hate to think that I'm wasting their time by telling them I'm not capable of meeting with them because I'm meeting with Mr. Perry.”

His eyes grow wide, and he shakes his head, looking at Tony with desperation. “He wants to be here. We all know that he does. He’s just closed off. He has to be here. It’s this or he’s out of the band until he gets help.” This causes Tony’s facial expression to change, into one of shame and desperation, because he knows that the threat isn't just a threat, it’s a promise. “We’ve done our research, the guys and I, and we know that you're the best at this. We know that you're good at what you do. Tony is good at what he does, on stage. He just needs help with his problems.”

“I would like to hear from Mr. Perry and not you, Mr. Preciado, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to sound rude, but Mr. Perry is my patient, not you. If this is going to work, he is going to have to talk to me. I'm not a mind reader and I never claimed to be one. Ask my colleagues, I have no little to no problem terminating a session if my patient is not cooperating.” I'm coming off as hard, but I'm also coming off as professional. I have no time to waste on someone who doesn’t want help.

When you look at this world, everyone has problems, and I made the mistake of encouraging people in this community to get help for their problems and to talk to someone. It’s made me successful and renowned, it’s made me a damn good psychologist, but it’s made me busy and I've learned that not everyone can get help. Not everyone can change their ways, and I try not to waste my time with someone who refuses to change. It’s no longer in my ability to help them; only they can help themselves.

“I want help, Doctor Matthews.” His voice startles me, because I truly didn’t expect him to speak. He nods his head, answering a silent question, one that I didn’t ask him directly, but one that he needed to answer in order to get more of my time. “I want to remain in the band so I need to get help. I need your help, Doctor Matthews.” I can’t tell if he means it or not, if it really wants help or not. He’s extremely closed off, that’s for sure, because I can usually read body language and facial expressions, but I can’t read his.

Nodding my head, I pick up the notepad from my desk, grabbing the pen next to it. “Call me Braelyn.”