My Own Worst Enemy Chapter 8

Hey, guys,

So I know this took a while and this chapter is mostly a filler but I promise it's going to speed up really really soon! I wasn't really sure about the rating... sometimes depression is viewed as questionable material... As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.

Chapter Eight

I’ll just give you a summary of what happened when I got yelled at by Miles.

Miles had my note in one hand and the picture of my mother in the other. He first yelled at me for hanging up the picture of my mother, because apparently I’m not allowed to have any representation of her in my life anymore.

“You’ve hurt Beth’s feelings really badly. She doesn’t want a picture of my ex-wife in her house,” he said.

“Really?” I asked dubiously. “Because I think if she had a problem she should come to me directly, instead of having you relay messages like we’re in the first grade. And I also think that you’re just using her to mask up your resentment towards my mother because she didn’t stay with you after you cheated for the hundredth time.”

He answered this with a sentence filled with too many big words that were used incorrectly, about how that was not true and how Beth’s afraid of confronting me because she didn’t want to ruin our relationship. I laughed when he used the word. It was a humongous exaggeration of our acquaintanceship

That’s a complete lie, I screamed in my head.

He then took out the little crumpled sheet of paper where I had written my note. Miles was somewhat calm while he talked to me about this. He was ‘concerned’ because he didn’t want me to ‘keep everything bottled up inside,’ to the point where I would want to kill myself.

He also said that he was going to send me to a therapist, who would get me ‘straightened out,’ and back to my ‘old self.’ To which I responded asking how he would ever know if I was my old self again, considering he never was with me, even when my parents were together.

He didn’t have an answer to that. His face just flushed red for a second then he told me that Beth suggested I go to a psychiatrist and that I was going to therapy this Friday, and every Friday to come, after school. Then he let me go to my room and didn’t say anything to me about the note again.

A simple summary of a very long (and loud, might I add) conversation.

The therapists name was Dr. Nicholas Rye. His office was located a couple of miles away from my school, so I had to walk there. His office wasn’t anything too spectacular. I was expecting a dramatic room with dark walls, chaise lounges and venetian blinds. Also with only one lamp over the therapists chair so the only thing visible would be him. It made me laugh when I entered the room with a desk, chair, two sofas, and one window with no shades. American movies have instilled romantic views about everything in my life.

Dr. Nicholas Rye was a young man who looked like he had just graduated college three days ago. He was dressed in a dress shirt and suit pants. He had wire rimmed glasses and had a deep voice, that didn’t fit his short stature.

He sat in the chair next to the desk, with a clipboard in his lap, and told me to sit on the plastic sofa. It squeaked when I sat down, he giggled. I groaned loudly, how could Miles send me to a therapist who less mature than I was?

“Hello, Danielle, I’m Dr. Nicholas Rye, I’ll be your therapist, call me Dr. Nicholas,” he said from his chair.

“Please call me Dani,” I said. That was our very original introduction.

The first session all he wanted to know was where I went to school, who I lived with, what I liked to do in my spare time and who my best friends were. These questions were completely unnecessary; he and I both knew that. He said he just wanted to make me feel comfortable before he brought out the questions that actually could help me.

The next session, Dr. Nicholas Rye asked me about my mother.

“Okay, Dani, tell me about your mother,” he said as soon as I sat down on the plastic sofa.

“She was my best friend,” I said, trying to make my voice sound indifferent.

“Mm,” Dr. Nicholas quizzically said. “What did she look like?”

“She was an inch taller than me; she had small eyes that squinted when she smiled. Her dark brown eyes were surrounded by small eyelashes and she had thin lips. A week before she died she cut her hair, and gave herself bangs, she would straighten it everyday before I went to school in my room.” As I remembered her, a small smile came to my lips and a tear came to my right eye.

“What about her personality?”

“She and I were very alike. She was sarcastic and funny, she always knew what to say to put a smile on my face. She was very nice, she would never pass a poor person without offering them money or food. But she also could turn that part of herself off, like when we watched stupid shows or passed people that just looked like they had a superficial personality. Whenever that would happen we would make fun of them, she was just like a fifteen year old.”

“Yes, yes. So she and you were very close. Now I want you to tell me about your father.”

“Miles doesn’t know how to be a father,” I said, the smile vanishing from my face. “He doesn’t know how to approach problems, and he jumps to conclusions too much. He also..”

“How does he jump to conclusions? Please give me an example,” Dr. Nicholas interrupted me.

“He jumped to conclusions on this whole situation. Just because I left home after school he made me come here.”

“Well, Danielle, the note you left may be construed as being a suicide note,” he said ruffling some papers on his desk.

“Again, he’s jumping to conclusions.”

“First of all in your note you can tell there’s a lot of resentment towards your father and Beth. You first address the note you Miles and Beth, then you cross that out and just write ‘Dad’, not even caring about Beth. Then your note is filled with short thoughts, saying this was your only option and that you won’t be back.”

“You don’t even know what happened that day,” I said.

“You should tell me, Danielle, it will make this whole process a lot easier.”

“Okay I went down to Pier 39 and just walked around; I had a lot of things on my mind that day.”

“Mm-Hmm,” he said, writing down something on his clipboard. He looked back up at me and zeroed in on my wrist, I had taken off my sweater and the little cut was visible. “Where did you get that cut?” he asked pointing to it with his pencil.

“I tripped in the hallway,” I shrugged. He made another noise and started writing again. The clock on his desk ticked away our time, I watched the digital numbers switch rapidly to the seconds. He wrote until the end of the session, when all the numbers were zero.

“All right, Dani, we’ll pick this up again next week,” he said rising from his chair. He led me out of his office and welcomed his next patient, an older woman.

I walked out of the building and caught a bus to my street. When I got home, I walked up to my room without greeting Miles or Beth. I was disinfecting a new cut when the phone rang. I listened at the stairway to hear who it was.

“Hello?” Miles said, “Oh, hi, Dr. Nicholas…..Why do you think that?.... Okay, if you think that’s for the best…..Yes, every Tuesday and Friday will be fine…..Why do you want us to come?....Well alright, Saturday will be fine, we’ll be there…You too, goodbye.” And then he hung up the phone.

I heard him grunt and raise from his chair, and start coming up the stairs to the hallway. In the ceiling of the hallway is the door that you pull down to get into my room, he stood under that.

“Dani, can I come in?” he asked.

“Sure, Dad, one second,” I replied, hiding the disinfectant and rolling down my sleeve. i would only call him Miles to his face when I was extremely angry. I pushed against the collapsible stairs and the doorway opened. Miles soon came up.

“So, um, how was your appointment with Dr. Nicholas?” he asked, awkwardly looking at his feet.

“Fine?” I asked, confused.

“He just called; he says you’ve led him to believe that you’re harming yourself.”

“Wow, he gave that news over the phone? That’s unprofessional,” I said.

“Dani, be serious,” he said. “He also wants you to come in twice a week.”

“What for?”

“He thinks he can help you more if he sees you twice.”

“And you’re going to believe him?”

“You’re going and that’s final,” he sternly said. “After school on Tuesdays and Fridays, he wants to have a family session next Saturday. Beth and I are going with you.”

“What?” I screamed. “No way. I will not be able to function if I’m in the same room with that idiot!” I spat the word.

“Danielle, don’t talk about her like that,” he calmly said.

“See, you’re not even defending her because you know it’s true,” I retorted.

“Danielle! You’re going to that appointment with us Tuesday, end of discussion,” he yelled.

“Does tyranny usually work with others? Because I don’t like to be controlled without a discussion,” I evenly said.

“Stop being a smart-aleck,” he said. Then he left my room. I smiled for a second. I liked it when I made my elders shut up, by using some sentence they don’t fully understand. Then I frowned.

Ugh, Beth’s going to be at my therapist appointment, I thought. Dr. Nicholas and I hadn’t even talked that much about Beth, so I couldn’t imagine why he would need to tell anything to her.

Saturday came too soon.

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Thanks for reading!

~Dommy