I'm Lost For Words

I finished writing exactly how the 'plan' Brad concieved would go down as he walked out the door, a satsfied smile on his face. Setting the clipboard down on my now tore up desk, I stood up to go see what Violet was doing.
"Violet..." I called. No answer. "Violet..." Getting paranoid, I cautiously peeked into her office.
"BOO!" she yelled right in my face as she jumpeed around from behind the door. I flew ten feet in the air.
"Jesus! Violet!" I panted.
"He, I got you," she giggled.
"Not funny," I muttered, heading back to my office to lock up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So, you would have never guessed what Brad wanted," I laughed as Violet and I walked out to our cars.
"What," she stated. "Is it a long story? Oh jesus." She sat on the curb next to me.
"It's hard to believe," I began, "but he's gay! WHO would have thought!" The next thing I knew Violet was on the ground laughing. "But it gets better! He married Megan!"
"Miller??" she said through her gasps of laughter.
"Yeah!! Andhe told her he was gay, but she doesn't want a divorce because she's obsessed with him!" We were both laughing hysterically now.
"But, in all seriousness," I said as we straightened ourselves back out on the curb, "He wants me to 'diagnose' him with a mental problem so he can stay here, away from Megan. And I'm supposed to tell the secretary no visitors for him, so she can't obsessively come here everyday."
"Wooowww," Violet dragged out. "What a touching story. That's illegal, you know," she warned.
"I'm well aware. but he's paying me well."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day was the time to put the plan in action. Noon, Brad would come in for his appointment, I would 'diagnose'...
"Dr. Thompson," the secretary peeked inmy office, "You have an emergency patient."
"Aw, Linda, do I have to? I have a patient in 15 minutes," I looked at the clock warily. 11:45.
"I'm sorry, but yes. Your patient will be directed to another psychologist. Your emergency patient is far more important. He... just attempted suicide and needs counciltation before putting him in confined suicide watch," Linda explained. I cursed in my head.
"Fine, bring him down here when he's ready," I dismissed her with a huff and a waveof my hand.
I finished off my cup of coffee and got out my neccessary supplies to council. Ha. Supplies was a stupid word for it, it was just a clipboard and a pen. I heard the footsteps down the hallway, and Linda looked in again.
"Here is your patient, Dr. Thompson," she muttered and beckoned him in.
He look to be a little older than me. He had black, tufty hair, green eyes with sloppy,running eyeliner applied around them, a black longsleeve and gray skinny jeans on. He looked down and closed the door behind him, sitting down in the chair.
"Hello," I said softly, something stirring in my brain that this guy looked familiar somehow, "What's your name?"
He grunted. "Billie Joe Armstrong." His gaze didn't rise from the floor.
"Can you look at me, Billie?" His head slowly rose up until his dull eyes met mine. I could tell he was heartbroken. His lips were cracked and his eyelids looked swollen. "Why are you here, Billie?"
He quickly looked back down at the floor. "If I tell you, can I go to my room?" his voice broke the thick silence.
"Yes," I said quietly. Silence. "You know, I don't like doing this job. I'm not here to force you. If you don't want to talk now, I'll tell them you're mute so far and you can go now."
He looked back up at me, and I saw his broken face almost twist into a smile. "Thank you," he muttered, and stood up.
"Any day, Mr. Armstrong."
"Please, call me Billie."
I smiled as he left the room. Forget Brad's problems.