Get Out Your Damn Umbrellas

Chapter 15

The soonest they were able to schedule an appointment with a therapist was on a Thursday the following week. As Phil had predicted, Dan's condition quickly worsened once the endorphins had worn off. He became silent and withdrawn again, jumping slightly at sudden movements. During the few times when Dan was lying on his back while Phil changed the bandages on his stomach, the boy closed his eyes and turned his head away, emitting small whimpering noises that broke Phil's heart. He knew that Dan had an impressively high tolerance for pain, but it was likely that the fresh cuts and bruises on his body were triggering traumatic memories of the injuries that his attackers had inflicted on him.

When Thursday finally arrived, Louise stopped by the apartment with a makeup case filled with various types of foundation in the palest shades she could find. Dan sat rigidly on the couch holding tight to Phil's hand while Louise carefully applied makeup to his neck. Out of all of their friends, Phil was grateful that it was Louise who was in charge of this task. Even when he was feeling well, Dan was often quite hesitant about allowing others into his personal space, especially when it came to having his neck touched. Thankfully, though, Dan was more comfortable with Louise than he was with most people.

Louise finished the final touches and packed away the cosmetics. Then she patted Dan's knee and said, "You look lovely, dear."

Dan gave her a small, tense smile. "Thanks."

The office building for Dr. Annie Wohlman was just a few blocks away. They could have walked there, but Dan hadn't been able to eat or drink anything that morning besides half a cup of tea, and so Phil called a cab. When they reached the front door and opened it to step outside, Dan was already trembling from head to foot. They boy latched onto Phil's arm and clung to him for support as they slowly walked across the pavement towards the cab. Normally Phil would be nervous about such close contact in public, worrying that someone would see them or take a photograph without their permission, but today that was the furthest thing from his mind. What mattered most right now was getting Dan some help.

While they were sitting in the waiting room, Dan's trembling worsened, his right leg bouncing up and down in the chair.

Phil turned to him and whispered, "Hey, it's going to be okay."

Hunching his shoulders, Dan responded in a low voice, "I don't know.... I don't know if I can do this."

"You don't have to tell her everything during the first session. Just talk to her for a bit and see if you're comfortable with her."

Less than a minute later Dan's name was called at the front desk. Phil gave him a reassuring smile as the boy rose unsteadily to his feet and disappeared behind the door sealing off the hallway.

As he drew near Dr. Wohlman's office door, Dan's heart started pounding. The last time he'd had to talk about what happened to him was when he was interviewed by the police, and he felt nowhere near ready to go through that again. For a moment he seriously considered just turning around and fleeing the building. Then the door opened, and Dr. Wohlman appeared in the doorway.

"Hello Dan," she said in a warm, friendly voice. "I'm glad you came to see me today. Come in."

She held the door open for him as he tentatively stepped inside and sank down on the dark grey couch against the wall. Dan gazed up at the opposite wall where there was a large picture frame showing a field of sunflowers. Then he stared back down at his knees as Dr. Wohlman took a seat in the suede black armchair across from him.

"It's not uncommon to feel a bit uneasy meeting with a mental health professional for the first time," Dr. Wohlman said gently. "I suppose it doesn't help that movies and TV shows depict us as shrewd masterminds, picking people's fragile psyches apart with tricks and mind games until we're able to force a deep, dark confession out of them. That's all done for the sake of drama, though, I can assure you. It requires a great deal of trust for you to share your personal struggles with me, and sometimes merely getting to the point where you're able to say these things out loud is part of the healing process, and so I have no intention of trying to force anything out of you."