We Are Tidal

Chapter Eleven - Unwelcome Honesty

Chapter Eleven

Unwelcome Honesty 

Using my rarely-employed better judgment, I took Willow's advice and went to therapy the following day. It was a last-minute appointment as I had the confidence to phone in first thing in the morning, opting to miss a lecture to sit opposite Dr. Poynton in his office that smelled of freesias and white sage. The urgency likely contributed to the confused expression slowly trickling over Dr. Poynton's kind face. 

"Are you okay, Dylan?" His palms were crossed, his left thumb overlapping his right and resting on his knee. Like always. 

"I'm fine," I answer, without thinking. It was a knee-jerk reaction at this stage, I rarely told the truth to anyone about that question. When Dr. Poynton raises his eyebrows quizzically, I grin. For better or worse, Dr. Poynton has seen me through some rough times since my parents' deaths. 

I lean back in the seat and cross my ankles. 

"No, I'm not fine," I admit, rolling my eyes.

"Did you end things with Mr. Bad Boy?" He asks, referring with little respect to Damien. For a therapist, Dr. Poynton is oddly expressive with his views and never misses a chance to express his dismay about Damien's patterns of behaviour. He has never been his fan, especially not when I started to be more honest about his drug use. 

I can barely stifle back a scoff at the question. 

"No, old man," I take a deep breath. "I didn't break up with Damien. But, well, the Heavers are back. All of them." 

That surprises him, instantly recalling my ex-boyfriend and his family who were as much my brothers as his at one time in my life. 

"Arthur Heaver is back?" 

I nod, taking a sip from my flask.  In a wild attempt to continue making wise life choices that would make Willow proud, I had filled it with tea this morning, rather than coffee. As I swallowed, I watched Dr. Poynton rub his face, deep in contemplation. Thankfully, Dr. Poynton seems to be understanding the seriousness of this change in my life. 

"Have you spoken to them since they came back?" He asks, genuinely curious. 

I explain how Gab is now my dancer partner again, but skirt around the details of seeing Art at the parties or outside dance practice. More importantly, I avoid explaining how those moments made me feel. My stomach knots uncomfortably at the mere thought.

"I'm not sure I can handle him, Arthur, right now," I admit, feeling a twinge of selfishness roil in my gut. Still, this was one of the only rooms in the world where the truth still had meaning. If I couldn't be selfish with my honesty here, where could I be?

Dr. Poynton sits back in his chair, relaxing his shoulders, his expression growing thoughtful and a little pitying. I feel like reminding him that his role as my therapist is to remain gloriously impartial.

"You mentioned some months ago that he too is grieving," It was a statement, not a question.  Maria Heaver. Her face clangs through my mind, all blue eyes and dark curls, dragging my parents' with her. Anxiously, I take another sip of tea. 

"Sure, they all are," My voice is rather quiet. Their mother was a shining light for them all and close with my own mother and father before their deaths.

Dr. Poynton seems to mull over his next words before deciding to speak. 

"Maybe they returned to this city because they need something familiar amidst this time of change."