He's Come Undone

Chapter 15: Release

Even when the message came, my mind was somewhere else.

"Hey, Ethan. I know I am dealing with everything rlly badly right now, but I thought maybe we could meet up later? We could talk about it. Meet me at Scanton Park at 11.
- Tomi"

This is a message I wanted, but a message I now cannot focus on.
After my dad called, I had a full blown panic attack. Macey spent the night at mine, holding me and telling me everything was going to be okay. I kept thinking, it was so weird. The man I thought was my idol for 8 years contacts me, and I swear at him, I abuse him, I tell him never to talk to me again. That I never want to see his face or hear his voice. He's the one that made me a monster. How can I forgive him for that?

I tried, later on, to ring him back. To call him and get some answers, but he had disconnected his number.
He left me.
Again.

"Ethan, scrambled eggs are cooking. Bailey's making them." My mother's voice interrupts my thoughts. With half her body sticking into my doorway, she lowers her voice slightly as if she's about to tell me something confidential. "Also... you have to go see Natasha today. Your appointment is at 10."
For the first time in about a month.
Kai pushes past her into my room. Giggling, he pushes into me with all his strength. Which isn't very much, for a 12 year old.
"Can I borrow your skateboard?" He asks me, and I begin to say he can when mum interrupts me, yet again.
"No, you can't, Kai! We are about to have breakfast!"
"But mum!" He whines, though he can't come up with an excuse.
She turns away, shutting my door behind her.
"Bitch." Kai mutters under his breath, and I smack him over the head.
He knows I don't mean it, so he just giggles again.

~

I walk into Natasha's office and look around at the pale, colourless walls. The whole place oozes of familiarity.
"Ethan!" My psychologist greets me from her table, standing up and walking towards me, arms out, ready for a hug.
Doesn't this breach some sort of client/worker law?

I didn't know it was possible, but she has gotten even fitter since I saw her last. Her long, perfectly carved legs stretch out from under her skirt which tightens around her ass, and her feet are perched in a pair of peach coloured heels. Her tits are covered properly, but they are pressing up so close to the material of her nude top that I can just about make out her nipples.
If I wasn't a raging homosexual, she would be my fantasy.
She smiles as my eyes lift off of her body and meet hers. She raises a hand, gesturing for me to sit down in the red arm chair that always makes me sink down into the pits of hell.

I sit down, and just as she sits opposite me, I comment, "Nice glasses. They must be new."
"They are." Natasha confirms with that same honey-soaked voice. I don't know why she's a teenage psychologist. She should be on radio or TV or something to show off her enviable traits.
"But we're here to talk about you, Ethan. How's university treating you?" She opens up the pad of paper on her lap, heavily decorated hands moving to acquire a pencil.
"Quite good. It's the least of my worries right now." I suddenly decide that I want to tell her about my dad. Since she already knows my life story, unlike Macey - the only other person who knows, she'll know what a big deal it is. She'll know what I should do.
"And what is your biggest worry, Ethan?" Natasha adjusts her legs, crossing them over themselves, and for a brief moment, one could look up her skirt if one was so inclined.

"My dad - he rang me 2 days ago." I wasn't about to act like it was some of the life-changing shit that I feel like it was. I don't want to admit to my weaknesses.
She seems taken aback. "What did he say?"
"Sorry, mostly." Truth is, I can't even properly remember what he said. It's all become a blur. All I know is that I was mad, he left again, and I'm still mad.
She nods, leaning back into her chair and letting her posture stretch upwards. It puts mine to shame, so I straighten up, but realise that the plum coloured chair is eating my ass and turns me into a midget no matter what I do. I surrender my posture and slump into the chair.
"Does it make you mad?" She asks. She already knows it does.

"Yes, Natasha, it does. It makes me want to hunt down the fuck head and punch him in the snout. It makes me want to tie him to a chair and beat the living crap out of him, begging him to change me back and to make us that happy family we once were." I imagine myself saying to her. Instead, I shrug.

"Ethan, I need your help here. I need to know how you're feeling about this... about everything." She tries again.
"Well, okay. It does make me mad, but I've always been mad." I reply.
She shifts uncomfortably, and I hear her heart beat fasten slightly.

"Have you ever considered the possibility that you're not angry? That you're using that to put on a brave face to yourself and everyone else? That you are, in fact, sad? Depressed? Afraid? You've been through hell, Ethan."

The questions are loaded, and ring through my head for the rest of my appointment.

Finally, our time is up.

As the windy city air of Bristol hits my face, my thoughts race. I'm sad, depressed, afraid... worthless. Great.

You know how people talk about a weight being lifted when they leave their psychologist's office? That doesn't happen to me. It just opens up the thoughts I've closed up in my mind. Everything I'm scared of, or angry about; it opens them all up.
Therapy is like having a scab, that would only heal if you don't stop touching it, picking it, and digging around in it over and over again.

It's not my release - how can it be?

I glance at my watch, it's 10:57. As I round the corner to Scanton Park, I can already see Tomi swinging on one of the swing sets, cigarette trailing in his hand as his dark brown quiff wrestles with the wind.
Despite what's happening with me, and with Tomi and I, I feel a smile spreading over my face.

He's my release.