Jaded

I stared out the window absent-mindedly blocking out everything good ol' Dorris was saying. That is until mom whacked me in the head with a packet of rolled up paper. Then Dorris came and shut the blinds. Now, not only was I stuck in therapy, but now I felt like I was in a funeral home with the darkness surrounding me and the stale smell of roses. Good going there Dorris, good thing I'm not suicidal.

Let me explain Dorris's appearance.

She looks like a gigantic hideous Christmas ornament. She had on these huge gold earnings along with many rings and necklaces. Her make-up looked as if either she didn't in the dark while enduring an earthquake, or quite possibly a gorrilla did it. The colors were as vibrant as a tie dye shirt. She had on this yellow tight fitting type of body suit which revealed her fat pockets quite well. If anyone is going to tell me I have problems it certainly isn't going to be from a women like this.

"Sam tell me what branches off your anger,” she said leaning back in her chair with clipboard at hand.

"Well to start, people like you in general,” I snarled.

"I am here to help you,"

"You want to help me? Leave me alone. That's how you can help me,"

"Your mother tells me you used to want to be a music journalist and attend UC Berkeley and such. Tell me about that,"

If you remember correctly my mom did mention something like this arguments back. I'll admit back in eighth grade I did have a silly fantasy about going to UC Berkeley and becoming a music journalists of some sort, but that was just a phase. My mom is still stuck on that thought.

"Here we go again," I said exhaling and adding a bit of eye rolling.

After moments of me not answering Dorris decided to talk to my mom. I gazed at the wall trying to make out objects from the texture when I heard Doris say

"I don't think you should let her go to that Gilman place anymore," This definitely came to me without warning.

"What?!" I yelled returning my attention to the session.

"That place is violent, trashy, disrespectful, and just bad news. People get beat up, there's drinking and drugs, it's loud and obnoxious, and I hear people bring weapons. My son used to go there until I found out what it was really about," she said pointing to a photograph of her son that sat on her desk. She might want to recheck where her son wanders off too, because I recognize that face.

Alright so I'll admit once when the skinheads showed up I got jumped and landed myself a bloody nose and bruised cheek, but they have more security now. Of course Billie Joe and Mike are apart of that security, but we'll over look that minor factor. As for the booze and drugs I could walk outside right now and I'm sure down the alley way there's someone shooting up heroin. You get thrown out if they catch you with any alcohol or drugs. You can usually see people on the street corner with a beer in their hand, but it isn't on the property. People have tried to shut down Gilman due to noise, but at our meetings we compromise with them to where everyone is at ease. I mean what do you expect from a music club.

"Also," she added "I once had to take my son to the emergency room, because some band brought cat litter and he in-hailed the powder from it. Like I said Lisa that place is bad news," she said turning towards my mom.

I had to refrain from laughing. She's referring to Isocracy, John's other band. They are notorious for bringing garbage and just throwing it around the pits. They bring telephone books, to cardboard, to milk cartons, to cat liter, to aluminum foil, to just anything you can imagine. I usually volunteer for the clean-up crew after the shows, it's not enjoyable to clean up, but worth it in the end. I was at the show she was referring too. They had to evacuate the club, due to the dust and had to have it fumigated.

"Wasn't that the show that your band was suppose to play at, but didn't because of the car litter?" asked my mom.

"Yeah we were suppose to play in the store between sets, but then everyone had to evacuate," I said leaning back in the chair.

"Your in a band?" asked Doris.

"Yes," I said raising a brow.

"I don't think she should do that either," said Dorris.

"What!" I yelled.

"I think that rock music has a negative influence. I think it way may be causing you to make all these bad choices," she said taking notes on the clipboard.

"What the hell are you talking about? That band is what re-frames me from making 'bad choices' you don't know what your talking about!"

"It 're-frames' you? In the past few days you have been violent and have been expelled from school for having drugs-"

"Those weren't mine!" I stammered now on my feet.

"We'll see when that drug test comes back," my mom chimed in.

"Mom why don't you believe me? I mean they already proved that Chelsea did it, so why do still insist on believing that I'm doing this shit!"

"If you'd give me one little thing to hold on to trust you!" she said beginning to break down in tears.

"I know even when that test comes back you still won't believe me. Will you mom? Will you!"

"Don't speak to your mother that way,"

"You know Doris has she shared anything with you about herself? About how for nearly two years I paid the bills while she sat in her room passed out drunk and spaced out on anti-depressants? Hm? About how I can't even mention my dad without getting popped in the face? Or how about how if I don't get a job in a few days that I'm going to get kicked out?" I said leaning over her desk looking her square in the eye, restraining myself from knocking the jar of pencils across the room.

"Is this what is about Samantha? You feel neglected?" she asked perking up thinking she's actually getting somewhere.

"No. I don't need her, I don't need you, I don't need anyone. You all can burn in hell and I won't give flying fuck!" I said slamming the chair into her desk and making my way towards the door.

"Samantha!" they both yelled.

"What?!" I screamed turning around.

"Get back here," my mom said in a satanic type of voice. I did as I was told. Why? I don't know I just did.

"Apologize to her," she said still in that same voice.

I sat there with my arms crossed staring at the rubber plant in the corner of the room. We all sat in silence for a few minutes.

"You know Samantha I used to be like you," she said taking her third grade school teacher glasses sticking the edge in her mouth like people do when they reminisce. " I used to have that rebel thing going on too. In fact when I wanted to make my mom mad I'd wear my bright red lipstick and a wallet chain," she said smiling as she reflected on the memory.

"You rebel," I said sarcastically.

“You know you come off real stubborn and sarcastic, but I think deep down is a sweet girl just waiting to blossom," I swear to god she actually said that.

"You know you keep talking to me like I'm actually listening," I said revealing a sarcastic smile.

"I think we've had enough for today Lisa," said Dorris looking as if she wasn't going to crack.

The second she said that I got up and headed down to the car to wait for mom.

She came down a few minutes later without saying a word. We got in the car and started heading towards Rodeo to visit my fathers grave like we did every September tenth.