Yes Mommy

ɳiɳɛ

"I love you".

She said it.

She really said it.

However, she didn't remember.

When she awoke, all she remembered was laying down. She didn't even remember falling asleep.

It hurt him in a way that left him confused. If she had said it, of course she meant it. But.... Did she?

That was three days ago.

Yesterday, her period ended early. But she still said no sex. Harry was frustrated and again, he was left unsure as to why.

His anger has been getting the best of him for a long time, but he's never understood why. He truly just doesn't get it. Sometimes, he's fine, others, he's just so angry that he could burn the world.

"Maybe it's because something's wrong with me. I'm not too certain".

Rose had talked him into seeing a psychologist. Someone to dig deep in his brain and diagnose the chemical imbalance. Even if he thinks there isn't one.

"I can assure you, there's nothing wrong with you. Being angry is a very normal part of life".

"See, that's just not true. What you said just then, has me very agitated".

"Why"?

This man. Harry really doesn't like him. His calm, quiet, American voice annoys him and his stupid combed back hair makes him look like a douche. There's no way he's an actual doctor. Not with his dark eyebrows and over observant blue eyes. He hates this man.

"I just don't like you. I really don't. And I wish this was over".

"You can leave whenever you please, Harrison".

"It's Harry. And no, actually, I can't. I promised Rose I'd stay for the hour".

"Rose? Is that the woman you came in with"?

"Yeah".

"Is she your girlfriend"?

"No".

"Do you want her to be"?

"What? Aren't you a psychologist? Why are you worried 'bout that"?

"We don't have to talk about it. I was just talking".

"Look. I know you treat my dad and you two probably get along great, but I'm not trying to be your friend. I don't want to be. I don't like you. You asked me what my problem is, I told you I feel angry. You asked why, I don't know. It's not because of Rose. I just feel angry at the world and I don't understand it".

The man says nothing. Just scribbles on his hidden notepad and pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his sweaty nose.

"Maybe, you aren't supposed to understand it".

"How the fuck does that make sense"?

"It's not supposed to. Life, is one of the greatest mysteries to have ever been created. We'll never know why we were put here on this earth nor why we feel what we feel. Most of all, why we feel it so intensely. Now, I could sit here and rattle off possible diagnoses and recommend medications that may or may not be of help, but I don't want to. You don't need it. That boy you hit in the hallway, he provoked you. And in having had enough, you gave him a little taste of his own medicine. Sure, you could've done without breaking his nose, but hey. What do I know"?

Okay... so maybe this Doctor Thomas isn't so bad... Just maybe...

"You're supposed to know everything"?