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“Hey, Daddy,” I answered as I kicked off my shoes and climbed onto my bed.
“Hey, puddin’.” He chuckled, and I could hear the volume of the TV decrease. “How was your day?” I told him about my day and how I’d almost maxed out my card, and of course, like any father, his first reaction was to scold me—only to ask me if I needed more money… and like any daughter, I said yes.
“Dad,” I whispered softly as I laid on my back, staring at my ceiling. “I need to tell you something.”
“This needs me sitting, doesn’t it?” he asked, and I laughed lightly.
“Yeah,” I answered, wondering whether he would judge me or be disappointed in me for not telling him sooner.
Whatever his response would be, I just wanted to tell him about both of my failed relationships. Maybe then I would feel less confined to my feelings.
Chapter 27
Alexander
“Mr Harris?” I looked up at the person that called my name. “You may come through.” He offered a kind smile, and I got up from my seat, locking my phone and pushing it into my pocket.
I followed right after him, and I felt a wave of anxiousness wash over me and uncertainty weigh on my heart. Maybe this was a mistake, but I couldn’t turn around; I was literally already seated.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Dr. Williams said as he crossed his leg over the other, placing his notebook on his lap as he stared at me. I always thought his look would be incomplete without his glasses on. His gray hair was kept neat and brushed backwards. He had a mole right next to his nose, and it wasn’t ignorable, but somehow, it suited him.
“Yeah.” I sighed as I looked around his office, taking note of all his educational and cultural achievements hanging on the wall. Maybe I should have also gotten a master’s or something that I could hang on my walls.
All I had was pictures of my games—mostly the ones we won—and a few medals and rings. Nothing much.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked as he scribbled something on his book. Whenever they did that, it would leave me wondering what deduction they had already made about me, when I had literally said nothing. “It’s just the date.” He laughed, and I lightly chuckled as I stopped rubbing my hands on my thighs.
Fuck, this is nerve-racking.
“Yeah, I just didn’t think I would be back here so soon.” I said it as if I was being locked up, and yet I was just here for a therapy session.
I’d decided to go for therapy because I realized that I was the problem, and I had people walking around me on their toes, and it was exhausting. Everyone always had to choose their words around me to make sure I didn’t bite their heads off.
What kind of living was that? It was most absolutely nothing to be proud of, and I just wanted to become a better person all around.
I was tired of people fearing me.
“Why?” he asked as he faced me, his pen still gripped by his fingers, aching to scribble something about me already.
See, this is my problem! I already had an assumption of what people thought of me even though what I could be thinking was false. I just had a hard time believing that people would see me for me and immediately believed that they only saw what I had.
It has happened quite a lot before, so you can’t really blame me for thinking so.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged and sighed as I relaxed on the couch. “I don’t like talking about my feelings or things happening around me, and yet I feel as if that’s exactly what I’m drowning in.”
He nodded, and it suddenly felt very different from our first session. He’d mostly asked me questions, and I answered them to the best of my ability, but it was about the work I did and what I enjoyed about it. Surprisingly enough, there was plenty that I loved about being a baseball player.
I suddenly didn’t flounder with it anymore. The passion I’d had in the beginning came back, and I had so much ambition as well. I started wishing that my retirement date could be a bit further, but to think my last game was only a month away, it felt crazy and all so quick.
When did I start to change my perspective?
“Like I told you in the last session, I only started playing baseball because I wanted to have a relationship with my dad.” I smiled as I scoffed. I was stupid then, and yet that immature decision had led me to something I absolutely loved. “It didn’t work, if you’re wondering.”
“Why do you say so?”
“Well, he was only interested for a few months. When I would beg him to come to my school games, he would say he had far more important things to do than to come watch me throw a ball.” I chuckled. Yeah that’d hurt a lot when he said that to his 13-year-old son.
It was not as if he were there for my sisters, either; my mother did what she could to support all of our dreams, but she obviously couldn’t divide herself into three parts whenever our activities would cross over.
