They Called it a Break

I pull into a parking place at seven thirty five. The message that was left on my phone told me to arrive before seven forty five because the office opens at eight. So here I am, but when I try to go inside this hell hole the fucking door is locked. I knock and knock and knock, but nobody answerers the door. Hell, there’s not even any other cars in the parking lot.

I climb back into my car and sigh, repeatedly hitting my head on the steering wheel. Why the hell do I have to be here? A flash of light passes over me from the glare of a car driving down the road and I stop hitting my head. I had forgotten other people can see me. God, they’re gonna think I belong here for treatment, not as my community service.

My brother had to wake me up this morning to get ready. Pathetic, right? I mean, our parents don’t give a shit, but sometimes I feel like I should be protecting him. I hear a lot about how in families when the parents don’t care the older sibling becomes a father or mother figure for the younger kids, but that’s never happened for us. If I had to act as a father figure for John he would probably be better off with our real dad as a father figure, because honestly, I’m not much to look at.

It’s not that I was never here for him. When we were younger, I remember holding him as he cried and taking care of him when he was sick. I haven’t always been a drunk asshole, it’s something that has recently become part of me. I used to be the A student and I was involved with just about everything, and I would do more and more because there was always the possibility I would be good enough at something to attract my parents’ attention. I became who I am today when that didn’t work. Trust me, I tried and tried to find some constructive way to get their attention, but there’s no fucking way to get it, positive or negative.

John has never wanted their attention, and that's something I don't understand. How can you not care what your parents think about you? I don't have an answer, but John really doesn't care. As long as I'm around and supporting him he doesn't seem to care what anyone else thinks about him. In that sense I admire my little brother probably more than he admires me for anything.

I wish I was as strong as him or even half as independent. The thing is, I'm not. I'm not as strong, and I'm sure as hell not as independent. I need approval from someone, anyone really, whenever I do something, and I hate it. I'm weak and I can't stand it. I'm so fucking weak.

Another car pulls in to the parking lot and I watch as a lady, probably a thirty-something, gets out to unlock the door. She's dressed in a cute pink top with a black pencil skirt and black shoes. Even though she looked nice there was something in her face that said she meant business. I hung back for a few more minutes, wanting to avoid the lady and the severity of her body language.

When the clock finally reaches 7:45 I get up to drag my ass into the clinic. The lady I saw enter a few minutes before greets me when I come in the door but her mind is clearly somewhere else and she just tells me to take a seat behind the desk. She disappears into an office for a few minutes and when she reappears she's much more calm and collected.

"I'm sorry for that, I have appointments all day today and I was missing two of my files, but I've got it under control now. I'm Doctor Parks." She extends a hand to me and I take it trying to return her smile, but coming up with something closer to a grimace. I don't want to be here at all.

"I'm Chase," I say lowly and she eyes my pierced ears like she hasn't seen a guy with earrings before. Really? I mean I'm sure she's seen worse with some of her patients but she still looks surprised. Her eyes rake over my hair and beanie to my button up shirt and down to my ripped skinny jeans. Okay, so I kind of dressed up for this. I know I should look nicer, but I couldn't find any jeans that weren't ripped when I got up.

"Nice to meet you, Chase. We'll have a conversation about proper attire at the end of the day today. As for now, I have less than five minutes to fill you in on your job." Dr. Parks grabs a chair and brings it beside mine, opening a filing cabinet to my right. Dr. Parks explained how i check patients in, fill out what kind of therapy they've had for the day, and how to tell if they're due for payment when they check out. It seems like so much fucking fun. How else would I rather spend a day?

Dr. Parks apologizes for having to leave me so soon but promises to help me again at lunch. She returns to her office again and I'm left alone in the lobby. The lobby is kind of nice, but definitely not a place I want to be. The walls are a lethargic pale green which is totally stereotypical for a shrink's office. There's a few brown couches as well as a small play place for children to do activities as they wait. There's two doors that lead to offices, Dr. Parks being one, as well as another for someone by the name of Mr. Mayher.

According to what I've been told Dr. Parks is a psychiatrist and Mr. Mayher is a psychologist, hence the Dr. in front of Parks name, and the lack of a Doctor title for Mayher. What's the huge difference? Fuck if I know. They both talk to crazy people and try to make them less fucking crazy. Dr. Parks just writes the prescriptions.

I contemplate this for a moment before looking at my watch. It's only 8:10. Only eight hours, fifty minutes until I can leave this hell-hole. 8:11. Eight hours, forty-nine minutes. The front door opens and a lady walks in with a boy that looks no older than seven. The lady looks around the lobby for a moment before settling her eyes on me with a look of disgust. She sighs and walks over to me, grabbing the sign in sheet before I can offer it.

"Where's Lily?" she asks me. She's clearly displeased and I decide I can't stand her. She's acting like such a bitch. I stare at her a moment, not 100% sure who she's talking about. I ask who Lily is and she sighs out of exasperation again. "Lily. The lady who works behind the desk. Every day when I bring Nathan in she's here. Nathan likes her and he's not good with new people. It's part of his anxiety problem, and if he looks at you and freaks out I'm going to have the worst week of my life."

"I'm... sorry?" I reply. I didn't really care to listen to her problems, and honestly, a little seven year old with anxiety problems is just sad. The lady sighs again, and when she does the little boy looks up and sees me for the first time, his mouth forming a small 'o'. His mom watches him nervously but the surprised look leaves his face as he breaks into a brilliant smile.

"You're not Lily," he says quietly. "But I think I could like you, ya know." He stands on his tiptoes and extends his hand towards me but his mother pulls him back. Looks like I get first prize in people parents pull their kids away from. I might have just hit an all time low. "Are those earrings?" Nathan asks excitedly, completely undeterred by his mother's obvious disapproval.

"Uh yeah man, they are. But you have to be older till you can get them. Sorry, bro." His face falls a little, but he looks like waiting to get his own ears pierced might be okay with him. He opens his mouth to say something else, but his mom grabs his hand and pulls him away to the couches saying he needs to work on his vocabulary flash cards. She shoots me a look as they sit down, and I realize I'm going to have to put up with her twice a week as long as I'm here. Whoop-de-fucking-do.

8:17. Eight hours, forty-three minutes until I can leave.