Therapy (Jalex)

Session 2

Patient: Alexander William Gaskarth

Notes: irritable, still mourning

-Dr. Bassam Barakat

-

After I completed my online class, my dad drove me to Dr. Barakat's office. We were silent the whole car ride, and when I left, Dad managed to say, "Good luck, son."

We were still getting over the fact that Tom was really gone.

I walked through the glass doors and into the pristine office. The very busty brunette secretary smiled when she saw me. I groaned inwardly. Her smile reminded me of 99% of the girls at my old school. Fake, forced, and glossy.

"Hello, welcome to Barakat Psychiatrists," she said, batting her eyelashes a little too much. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Y-Yes," I muttered, shuffling towards her little window.

"Name, please." She pointed to a clipboard.

"Alexander Gaskarth." I scrolled down the list and signed in.

"Ah, I love that name," swooned the secretary. "It's much better than mine. My name's Hilary."

"Hi... Hilary."

Hilary smiled again. "Hi! Anyways, Dr. Barakat is actually done with his previous session... now. Just wait a sec for him to come out that door." She pointed to the door connected to a long corridor. I nodded and planted myself in a black leather chair, the squeaky material squelching under my weight.

As soon as my butt hit the chair, the white door opened. A tall Lebanese man stepped out with a girl a few years younger than me trailing behind him.

"Remember what I said," said the man, turning to face the girl as she entered the waiting room. "Distance yourself from those who hurt you, understand?" The girl nodded, red hair bouncing.

"Thank you, Dr. Barakat," she murmured as she left the building. The glass door shut behind her, and the doctor addressed me.

"Alexander?" he inquired. "I'm Dr. Barakat. Nice to meet you."

"Hey," I barely whispered. "It's Alex, by the way."

"Ah," said the doctor. "Come, let's continue in my office." He led me through the door and into the corridor. The first room's door was opened, and that's where we went. The office was well kept, and it was white like the waiting room. A long chair was in the center, and a cushioned one was in front of it. A desk was in the corner with a computer and those Newton's balls things. A fan slowly rotated on the ceiling. The room had a professional air to it, and it made my palms sweat. I was being analyzed by a professional. How nice.

"Have a seat, Alex," he invited, motioning towards the elongated chair. I gently sat down on the creaking leather.

"Now," he begun, intertwining his fingers, "your parents are very concerned about you. How do you feel about that?"

"Honestly," I sighed, wary to not expose everything, but too tired to keep everything in, "I know I'm being selfish. I really do."

"Oh." The doctor scribbled in his notepad. "Then why are you doing this?"

"Because nobody understands me, and this is the next best way to cope." More frantic writing. Shit. He was really going to analyze my every word.

"Do you have any hobbies?" His dark eyes prodded me for information, and I kind of shriveled into my shirt that was too big for me in the first place. I searched my mind. It had only been days, but I had almost forgotten what I liked to do for fun. Fun.

"...I like to write songs, sing, and play guitar," I replied listlessly, glancing at the clock. Only three minutes had passed since I arrived.

"You play guitar?" For the first time, Dr. Barakat seemed openly interested. "Interesting. So does my son. Is music a release for you?"

"I suppose, but I haven't touched my guitar since..." My voice trailed off as I referenced Tom's death.

"Well, maybe it will help you," suggested Dr. Barakat. "What artists do you listen to?"

"Green Day, Blink-182, New Found Glory, Weezer," I listed, my head tilting to the side as I became even more bored.

"Ah."

For 57 more minutes, we talked more about my feelings and things I liked. Dr. Barakat was actually quite calming, but I still didn't like confessing to a stranger. That was weird. But by the end of the session, the tightness in my gut had subsided a little. My shoes tapped against the linoleum as I left the office. When I rounded the corner, a tall, lanky boy stood up from the floor where he was sitting. He was waiting. He looked familiar.

"Hey, I'm Jack Barakat," he said, smiling. Of course. He was the shrink's son. I thought I recognized the large doe eyes and the thin face shape. "I was walking around, and I heard that you play guitar."

"...Yeah," I muttered, avoiding his eyes out of pure awkwardness.

"I play, too!" he exclaimed, breaking into a grin. I looked up at his face and met his deep brown eyes. In his eyes, I saw something.

Happiness. Elation. Glee.

Something I haven't seen in someone's eyes since Tom died.

"Cool," I sighed, taken aback. I looked at him again. He was still smiling. "Well... C-Can I ask you a question? It's a little random."

"Sure, shoot."

"Why are you so happy?" I snapped, sounding a lot harsher than I meant to. "The world sucks." The giant eyes widened even more, and a look of shock replaced his giddiness.

"Why wouldn't I be happy?" he answered, cocking his head to the side. "The world only sucks if you think like that. I think that everyone deserves to be happy."

"Maybe I should ask, why are you so sad?" he asked, pursing his lips. "The world can be great if you make it great."

"Well, my brother died," I shot, my eyes brimming with more tears.

Oh shit, I thought, He's gonna think I'm a sissy.

"Oh. Sorry." We stood there in silence until my phone buzzed. My dad was here to pick me up.

"Well, bye, I guess." I walked towards the door, my feet shuffling.

"Wait!" Jack called after me, his hand in the air. I turned around, curious on what he wanted.

"What's your name?"

"Alex." I swiveled on my heels and continued my dragging walk to the door. Even when I exited, I didn't feel his eyes leave me.