Ruin Everything

Sunday came quicker than expected, and I found myself early to my session with Doctor Colquitt. I sat in the waiting room, legs crossed, and foot bouncing impatiently in the air while his receptionist glanced over every so often. I needed to talk to him. I needed to talk to someone, and he was the only one I knew who would listen and not judge.

His door opened a minute before his previous session was over and a frantic-looking middle aged man skittered out, calling a goodbye to the doctor. He nodded at me and then the receptionist as the doctor stepped into the doorway.

“Ahh, Cassara! I was hoping you were going to show up! It’s nice to see you again! Come in, come in!” he said, ushering me inside. I sank into the familiar couch and pulled my knees up to my chest while Doctor Colquitt pulled out my file.

“You look kind of rough, Doc,” I stated bluntly, taking in his rumpled light blue button-up shirt and his equally rumpled black slacks.

“It’s casual Friday in the office,” he humorlessly answered, falling into his own chair as I had, carelessly.

“Tough day, huh?”

“Sundays always are,” he commented and opened his notepad. “How are you, Cassara?”

“I’m alright. I just, uhh, I did something kind of bad.”

“Bad how?” he asked.

“How do I say this? Well, I think I cheated on my secret boyfriend with this guy I hardly know at a party. And of course, there’s the whole secret boyfriend thing in general which is also kind of bad. I don’t know what to do.”

“Be honest,” he answered simply, scribbling absently on the notepad.

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got for me? Be honest?”

“Honesty, Cassara, is really the best policy. Be honest with the secret boyfriend of yours. Tell him what you think happened. Tell him whether or not it meant anything, whether or not this boy you hardly know means anything, and go from there. I’m not really a couple’s therapist.”

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re here to hear about my mommy issues.”

He nodded.

“What would you like to talk about today, Doc?” I said, playing with the slight tear in the knee of my jeans.

“Tell me more about Jack,” he said.

“He’s my best friend,” I started with a shrug. “He’s my hero. He saved my life and put a roof over my head. He fought for me when the rest of the world left me to die. He, he, he’s mad at me,” I said softly.

“Why?”

“I didn’t tell him about my therapy sessions or my anxiety medication, and then when he asked me about him, I accused him of being a gossip, of spreading my secrets.”

Doctor Colquitt nodded, and continued to scribble out notes at an amazing rate. I watched in fascination as his hand whipped across the paper, filling up three lines just on what I’d said.

“I didn’t even mean it, which makes everything so much worse, I guess… I just said it, and now I’ve fucked everything up. It’s not like I believe it. I know Jack wouldn’t go spreading shit around about me. He’s my best friend. He wouldn’t do shit like that.”

“Why do you think you said it, then?”

“To hurt him.”

“I don’t believe that,” he replied. “You care so deeply about Jack; you wouldn’t want to hurt him. Not intentionally. Do you want to know what I think?”

“You’re probably going to tell me anyway,” I said flatly. He smirked and continued.

“I think that you’re pushing Jack away, because you’re scared. You’re scared that one of these days; you’re going to hurt him for real, because of what your mother did to you. You’re scared that you’re more like her than you had ever realized and you’re going to hurt Jack like she used to hurt you. It’s perfectly rational, and more common than you think. Most people are either afraid of being hurt, or hurting others, although the latter is less common. You’re scared for Jack, in this case, and not of him.”

“After living with my mother, I’m afraid of no one.”

“Except this mystery secret boyfriend of yours,” Colquitt quipped. I glared at him.

“Why did you want to know about Jack anyway?”

“He’s an important part of your life. You called him your hero. I’m just curious as to how he’s handled your condition.”

“Is that what we’re calling my mommy issues now? My condition?”

“Your anxieties, yes,” he replied.

“Okay, I’ll bite. You want to know how he’s handled me waking up screaming, freaking out when he’s not there with me. He’s been a saint. He comes when I call him, stays in bed all night if I fall asleep with him there. He buys me shit I don’t need, spoils me rotten because he can. He hasn’t bolted so far,” I said softly.

“Besides the sleep anxiety, has he found out about anything else?”

“Nothing comes to mi-” I broke off with a sigh. I nodded. “When I was bad, Mom used to punish me by putting me in the shower and turning the water on, and making it ice cold. She would leave me in there for ten, twenty minutes, depending on how bad I’d been. Well, Jack and his friends were messing around and accidentally dumped a bucket of ice cold water on me instead of May. I freaked, honestly. I started sobbing and apologizing, cowering in the nearest corner. Jack was at my side instantly, and apologized so much that sorry didn’t even sound like a word anymore. I hadn’t even lived with them that long, and I was scared that they’d leave me, because I was a freak. But, Jack, he promised never to do that again, promised he’d always be there to keep me safe and god,” I sniffled, wiping tears from my eyes as I thought about those goddamn showers. “I am so pathetic. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, you’re okay. It’s expected that you’d tear up. Emotions are good,” he assured me. I laughed, reaching for the tissues on the small coffee table between us. I wiped at my eyes and then blew my nose, wadding up the tissue and throwing it into the garbage bin beside the couch. “I’m here to get those emotions out, you know.”

“Well, stop, doc.”

He chuckled.

“We can stop any time you want, Cassara. I’d love if you’d continue seeing me but I can’t force you and neither can Joyce.”

I nodded.

“I know. Do you think it’s weird I have that fear of cold water? I can’t go in lakes or pools, unless they’re heated and my showers are always boiling hot. Is that weird?”

“You were traumatized as a child, at a very crucial point in your life. It is perfectly understandable that you grew up with this particular fear. The important thing is where you go from here, knowing that you have this fear. Will you let it control your life or will you use it to make yourself stronger? It’s not where we come from that dictates who we are, but rather where we choose to go from there.”