I Guess They Never Disappear

Chapter 18

Today is therapy day. 

Time to go see Chris. 

I've been to therapy a couple of times since Jared and I got together. More than a couple, actually. Probably like eight.

I still haven't told them that I got a boyfriend. 

It's not like I think they would be disappointed in me or anything. In fact, they'd probably be really proud of me. Maybe that's why I haven't told them. 

Maybe it's because we've had several discussions on how I needed to move past Jared and this is the exact opposite of doing that. I don't think they would tell me to not date him, though. 

Once again, it's not like anything bad would happen. At least I want to tell myself that. So why am I so nervous?

I really really really don't want Jared to meet Chris. Chris is, well, another part of my life. Therapy Evan. Jared knows I go to therapy of course (it's hard to hide it when you spend almost all your time together, ignoring the fact that he's known me since we were kids and was there when I started going to Doctor Sherman's). So there's 'no shame at all' in letting him meet Chris. 

I'm almost certain they would say something like that at least. 

When I get to the office, the waiting room is empty. 

It always is. 

I'm Chris' last patient because the idea of sitting in a crowded waiting room (Chris shares their office space with three other therapists, and all four often have patients at the same time, and more waiting) wasn't something I really liked back when I first started going to their office. 

I don't like the idea of it now that much either, but I don't think I would ever tell them that. It doesn't match up with the progress I've assuring them I've made these past few months. 

At precisely seven P.M. on the dot, Chris steps out into the waiting room from the hallway. 

"Hi Evan," they say, their voice peppy as always. Therapists are always cheerful for some reason. Maybe they're trying to placebo their patients into being happy or something. 

"Hey Chris," I say.

"Do you want to come back to my office now?"

"Sure."

I stand up from the stuffed chair I've been sitting in and follow them to their office. 

As always, Chris sits down in the big chair in front of the bookcase, which leaves me to sit on either the couch or the stiff-backed chair directly to the left of it. 

I end up sitting on the couch because it feels awkward talking to someone who I need to turn my head to look at and then still finding a way to avoid eye contact and that's happened too many times for me to think that there's a chance it might not happen. Plus, I almost always end up slouching over because then it's harder for Chris to look me in the eye, and slouching seems better suited to the couch, anyway. 

Nope. That's definitely not progress. 

Chris grabs their clipboard from the side table and pulls out a pen from their cup. Blue, to match their outfit. It's something they do a lot. I don't know why I notice that. Is it creepy? It probably is creepy. I'll stop. 

"So," they say after a short period of silence, "How's everything gone for you recently?"

"Good," I say, forcing myself to look anywhere but my knees. 

Chris notes something on their clipboard and it bothers me that I don't know what it is. 

"Do you want to do the ratings?"