Oddity

11

Once I was back in my room, I sat back on my bed before calling Mitch.

It rang four times before he answered. As soon as he spoke, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"Hey," he greeted.

"You didn't text me," I stated simply.

He was quiet for a moment, "Sorry, I forgot. Merry Christmas, Scott."

It was unsettling that Mitch forgot. It wasn't like him. "Merry Christmas, Mitch," I replied, hoping my discomfort didn't show.

"So, did you get any cool presents?" He questioned, still sounding tired.

"I haven't opened my presents yet. I accidentally made everyone mad so I went to my room while they opened theirs," I explained.

"Aww, Scott...what happened? Are they gonna let you open your presents later?"

I shrugged, even though the gesture was useless. "I don't know. Can we hang out later?"

There was a brief silence. "Uhh...not today, okay?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. Mitch never said no to hanging out with me. "Are you mad at me too?"

"No no, of course I'm not mad at you. I'm just...tired," he assured me frantically.

I nodded, another useless gesture. "Okay, get some sleep," I instructed politely.

"I will. I'll call you tonight, okay?"

"Okay. Goodbye Mitch. Merry Christmas."

Mitch did not call me that night. He called me the next day, apologizing again. He told me that he fell asleep and forgot again.

I did not like being forgotten.

The night after Christmas, I eavesdropped on the conversation between Dad and Zack. I was at the end of the hallway at the top of the stairs, peeking down at them, standing in the living room.

"Dad, I'm worried about Scott," Zack murmured.

Dad sighed and scratched the back of his neck, "Me too. He's only getting worse."

Zack's face contorted with confusion. "Um...what exactly is wrong with him?"

A long silence past before Dad shook his head. "We don't know."

The next morning, Dad sat me down at the dinner table. It was just the two of us. I was not sure why this was happening, or why Dad insisted that Lauren, Zack and Lindsay stay upstairs until he said it was okay.

"Am I in trouble?" I questioned, staring up at Dad.

He shook his head, "No, you're not in trouble Champ," he assured me before clasping his hands over one another and sighing. "I talked with your mother last night, and we decided that it would be the best for you to start seeing a psychiatrist. We've accepted that we don't understand the way you think, or even the way you behave. We think it would be good for you to have someone you can talk to, and maybe sort out your thoughts," he explained.

I pondered it for a few moments, before shaking my head, "No, thank you," I replied.

Dad sighed loudly, "It wasn't a suggestion, Scott. I've been making phone calls all morning. Your first appointment is Wednesday at noon," he declared.

"But I don't want to go to therapy," I informed him.

He shook his head, "I don't care, you're going. We just want you to get help," he explained.

I wanted to protest, but I did not want him tobe mad at me again.