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"It's not just about riding bulls,"
I grumble, avoiding her gaze.
"It’s about living a life that feels worth something. Right now, with the sponsorships being my only income, I feel... worthless. Weak."
I stop talking, horrified that I've allowed myself to reveal so much.
Dr. Marlene’s strategy, whatever it is, has me opening up, and I can't stand it.
"You’re being sneaky, making me talk about all this personal stuff."
I accuse her, my voice laced with resentment.
She raises her eyebrows slightly, expressing calm understanding rather than offense.
"Tyler, I don’t intend to trick you or make you uncomfortable. It’s important to explore these feelings, to understand that your worth isn't solely defined by your career or how you earn your income."
But her words are like dust in the wind to me. I’ve built a wall, and I’m not letting her in further.
"I think we’re done here."
I say curtly, standing up abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor.
"I don’t need someone else telling me how I should feel about my life."
"Tyler.. we have thirty minutes left. You should stay for all of your time."
I reluctantly sit back down on the couch with an attitude, but now I refuse to answer any more of her questions.
I fold my arms across my chest as stubbornly as a child, allowing her to talk in this one-sided conversation.
The session continues in this vein, with Dr. Marlene trying to break through the walls I've built around my pride and my pain and me fighting her every step of the way.
She doesn’t know about Timmy, and I won’t tell her.
She knows me as the guy who rode bulls, not as a father who can’t even walk out of his kitchen without nearly falling in front of his son.
The therapy session wraps up, and honestly, not much has changed.
Dr. Marlene tried, but I'm just not feeling it. I walked out as mad and frustrated as I walked in, maybe even more.
And to top off this fantastic day, it all started with me tripping in front of Timmy. It's just been one of those days.
I know I'm torturing myself, refusing to see how therapy could help, clinging to my anger like a life raft.
Yet, somewhere beneath all that bluster and bravado, I'm terrified.
I'm frightened that this is as good as it gets, that I'll never be the man I once was in the arena or as a father.
But admitting that, even to myself, feels like conceding defeat—and that’s something Tyler Parker has never been good at.
Hours later, I find myself nursing a whiskey at the Last Chance Bar like it's medicine.
Maybe it is, in a way. The kind that doesn't heal but numbs. I didn't worry about driving.
My boots could carry me back home just fine. And Timmy, he's safe at home with Mrs. Carolyn.
I will forever thank that woman. Moving to Pine Creek with Timmy and me was a miracle.
