Crash

“So how do you feel about that?”

My eyes fixed themselves on a large aquarium in the corner of the room. Fish of all kinds were swimming around, minding their own businesses, seemingly enjoying their lives. One black and white fish, I could have sworn stopped and looked right at me. Its small mouth was ajar and its fins swayed back and forth in the water. Its huge eyes just stared at me, and I stared back.

“Peyton?”

I jumped out of my trance to look over at my therapist, Dr. Philander, who was staring at me over his thick rimmed glasses. His light brown hair equally matched his eyes and his lips were pressed together in a straight line. He took the glasses off and cleaned them with a handkerchief.

See, the only thing I liked about Dr. Philander was the fact that he was literally in his early 30’s and was sort of handsome, in an extremely geeky way. But his personality sucked balls. He literally could not relate to me, no matter how hard he tried. He was known for being able to relate to his patients on such an in depth level, and everyone ranted and raved about him. My mother is supposedly paying him heaps to work his magic on me, and I think Dr. Philander and I both know that I was the first patient of his who instantly didn’t see ‘results’. And I could tell that that bothered him.

“Sorry, what did you say?” I asked. I glanced back over at the fish tank. The black and white fish was gone.

“I had asked you how you felt about your brother going away for college soon,” Dr. Philander replied. He adjusted in his seat and rested one of his legs on top of the other.

“I don’t really care,” I said truthfully. “The only thing I’m worried about is having my parents’ attention being directly towards me after he’s gone.”

“You’re saying you don’t like having attention?” Dr. Philander asked.

“You really don’t miss anything do you?” I replied. I grabbed a sheet from a notebook on a small table by my chair and crumpled it into a ball. I began throwing the ball in the air and catching it.

“No, I just find it odd that you’d say that, Peyton.” Dr. Philander remarked. I stopped throwing the ball and turned to look at him.

“What do you mean?” I asked. He began flipping through his pages of his notebook, full of entries about me and took a deep breath.

“From what I’ve observed of you for the past few months, it seems that the things you do are things that scream out for attention. You pretend that you do not care what others think about you, or what you even think of yourself, but that’s completely false. You are abrasive and rough, but only because someday you want someone to see you as something different.”

Silence filled the room as I tried to register what he had just said to me.

“Excuse me?” I finally asked and sat up.

“This is just what I have observed.” He replied.

“Well whatever you have observed can screw itself, because it couldn’t be farther from the truth,” I replied and stood up from my chair. “By the way, Dr. Philander, you are barely thirty years old, it seems like just a handful of years ago you were around my age. You think that you can sit here and scrutinize me like you are some all-knowing professional with years of backup experience? You can’t.”

“There is no need to become defensive, Peyton.”

“Yes, yes there is a need to become defensive. Excuse me for feeling the need to defend myself when someone is handing out a load of shit and expecting me to just take it. You think that I don't know that you’re trying to uphold your substantial miracle-worker-psychologist reputation? I know that I am different than all of your other patients. And I know that it just kills you that you can’t fully understand who I am, doesn’t it, Vincent?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Peyton. And I’d like it if you were to not call me by my first name. Now can you please sit down and relax so we can talk this through?” Dr. Philander asked calmly. I looked down at his hands and saw that they were clenched. I was hitting a nerve.

“Do you really want to talk this through, Vinny?” I asked. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious that you’re getting a little flustered with me right now. I think it’s pretty clear that you’d really rather have nothing to do with me than sit in this room for another half hour and discuss my dire need for attention.”

“You know, Peyton, you are a rather smart girl, it’s a shame that you don’t let people see that.”

I stopped and looked down at him, and after a thick silence, he slowly lifted his head to make eye contact with me.

“No,” I began. “What’s really a shame is that you’re not helping me like you’re supposed to.”

I then turned my back and began walking out of his office.

“Peyton, wait, we are not finished yet!” He yelled after me.

“Oh yes we are,” I muttered and then slammed the door. I looked to my left to see the woman at the front desk staring at me with her eyebrows raised. I shot her a look and she quickly put her head back down and I angrily exited the building, not even truly knowing why I was so upset.

“So, I heard about your freak out at Dr. Philander’s office today,” Kingston brought up at the dinner table later that night. “Good job at making yourself seem like you’re getting better, Peyton.”

I dropped my fork on my plate and looked up at my brother.

“There has never been something wrong with me to begin with, Kingston, so maybe that’s why I can’t possibly be getting 'better',” I replied. Kingston just laughed in my face and shoved mashed potatoes in his mouth.

“I’d really appreciate it if you would stay for the whole sessions, Peyton,” My mother said sharply. “You know that your father and I spend a lot of money on them.”

“Well, why don’t you just cancel them altogether so you can stop wasting your money?” I asked. My mother just sighed and shook her head at me and continued eating. I picked at the food on my plate and looked over at my dad, who was doing the same. He made eye contact with me and gave me a small smile. I don’t know why he did, but I couldn’t say it didn’t make me feel better.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and I looked around the table to see if anyone was going to get up and get it. No one made a move so I just irritably sighed and got up to get it myself. I quickly swung open the door to see none other than Micah standing there with a paper bag in his hands.

“Seriously?” I asked. “How did you even find out where I live?”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, dear, but I’m here for your older brother,” He replied.

“You and him aren’t friends,” I stated.

“And neither are you and I, am I right?” He replied.

My brother then showed up at my side and looked over at Micah and then at the paper bag in Micah’s hands.

“Burroughs,” Kingston stated.

I just rolled my eyes at my brother's lame attempt at being tough by saying Micah's last name instead of his first.

“Hey, Kingston,” Micah said and sighed. “In order for me and my friends not to get arrested for theft, I have to give this back to you since you were the captain of your team, and deeply apologize for my ‘awful and retched behavior’.” Micah then handed my brother the paper bag, and Kingston opened it to reveal our principal’s trophy. “On behalf of Pioneer High School, we are sorry for stealing your principal’s trophy.” Micah then topped off his statement with a very forced smile, and I couldn't help but laugh a little at how obvious it was that Micah didn't want to do what he just did.

“Um,” My brother said awkwardly. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Micah said. “See you around.”

Kingston nodded and then stalked back into the dining room to finish his dinner. He had never really been too affected by the whole trophy stealing thing in the first place. Especially since football season was now over, he was probably way over it by now.

I leaned against the doorway and eyed Micah for a second.

“So why aren’t you leaving?” I asked. Micah just shot me a lopsided grin and shrugged.

“Why aren’t you?”

“Good question. Goodbye, now,” I said and reached backwards to shut the door. Micah’s reached forward and stopped it with his hand.

“I told that Tyler Harrison guy to stay away from you,” He said.

“You did what?” I asked back angrily in a hushed whisper, making sure my parents weren’t able to hear our conversation.

“He’s bad news, Peyton.”

“Yes, I know dipshit, you have already run this over with me, but you have no right to do that. As you just stated, we aren’t friends, so you can’t just go and try to cut people out of my life. I can see who I please.”

“I can’t let you be involved with that guy,” Micah stated and ran his fingers through his brown hair. “I don’t care what we are, I just can’t. He’s a tweaker. He does heavy stuff, and I wouldn’t want to see anyone get into that.”

“How do you know I already haven’t?” I asked.

“I don’t, but what I do know is that I can cut off your resources,” He replied.

“Micah,” I responded angrily. “Why are you doing this? Really, just leave me alone. Stay out of my business and stay out of my life.”

“I can’t,” Micah replied.

“Why?” I asked. “Why is it so hard for you to just stay the hell away from me?”

Micah didn’t say anything for a second and I was just about to give up and close the door on his face before he finally spoke up.

“Once I find out, I’ll let you know,” He stated. I just scoffed, and then I slammed the door in his face.