Page 58 of This I Promise You
After finishing my classes, I met Huxley back at the apartment and we drove over here together. They had me fill out some forms and Huxley dropped her credit card on the counter—which made ating, by the way—and now we’re sitting here waiting. She told me not to worry about the money. That she already spoke with her parents and it was their idea to cover the costs until I can figure out a way to pay for it myself. She called me family and I didn’t want to argue. I’m grateful, but I also feel useless and not worthy of their kindness. I’m holding her hand because I’m scared shitless. I’ve never done anything like this before.
“Paul Acre,” a woman calls out.
I look up to see a tall slender woman with long, graying blonde hair. She’s dressed in a business casual suit, high heels, and a gorgeous bulky necklace.
“Yeah, uh, that’s me.” I halfway raise my hand and stand to shake hers.
“Mr. Acre. It’s great to meet you.”
“Oh, Paul. Please. Not Mr. Acre,” I insist.
“My apologies, Paul. Huxley, good to see you again.” She gives her a hug and gestures from me to the hallway. “Shall we?”
Huxley pulls me into a hug. “I’ll be right here when you’re done. If you need me for anything just text, okay?”
I nod, then follow Dr. Orleen back to her office.
It’s a nice office. Not stuffy or pretentious like I imagined. There’s a desk toward the back of the room by the large window. The far left wall is a large built-in bookshelf full of books and accessories. A green velvet sofa/chaise combo butts against the far right wall with an acrylic coffee table. Two chairs complete the living room-style staging.
“Have a seat.” Dr. Orleen points to the sofa.
I sit down as she retrieves a notepad and pen from her desk and sits in the wingback chair across from me.
“Sooooo…” I drag out, rubbing my sweaty palms on my thighs. “How exactly does this thing work?”
“How would you like it to work, Paul?” she asks.
“Uh, well.” My hands are in my lap and I’m nervously picking at my cuticles. I feel so stupid and awkward and just…empty. I guess I have nothing to lose here though, right? Might as well be as open and honest as I can. Feelings and emotions be damned. “I have some shit I need to work through. Not sure what Huxley told you, but it’s…not good. I want to work through it, I do. I’m just…I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Dr. Orleen places her notepad and pen on the small table next to her chair, crosses her legs, and rests her hands in her lap.She looks like a princess, is my first thought. Second is,I can now tell why Huxley likes her, trusts her.She gives off a very demure but educated, motherly vibe. The type of mother I never had.
“First, I would have you know Huxley has not mentioned why you are here. She understands the importance of speaking for oneself. What is going on with you is strictly between us unless you say otherwise. I very much value my patients’ confidentiality and will do nothing to break that trust with you. Secondly, I appreciate your transparency. For therapy to work, it is ultimately up to you. Having the mindset you have expresses your willingness to evolve and your innate self-awareness. These are all good things. Lastly, I’m here to helpyou, to guide you. Together we will get to the bottom of what burdens you, dissect it, and create a firm foundation to build upon. How does that sound?”
I nod vigorously. “I like that, yeah. I need that. I want that. I’m tired of…feeling like this. I’m exhausted.”
“I understand.” She picks up her pen and pad and scribbles something down. “Now, let’s start from the beginning. I think that will be easiest for us both.”
So we do.
Easton
Study Date
Midterms are on Thursday and Friday and I’m 100 percent not ready for them. If I was lucky like Paul here, I’d only have two, but no. I have five!
“What were the significant contributing factors to the Nazi Party’s success in the 1930 election?” Paul reads off the next question. “Motherfuck. I feel dirty even saying Nazi.”
He reads off the choices and I narrow it down. Two deal with economics, and this type of thing is usually always economic in a way, but the right answer is clear.
“Economic insecurity after the Great Depression and the Party’s massive voter campaign leading up to the election,” I answer, and Paul nods. “They actually gained power democratically at first. Did you know that?”
“Uh… No.”
It’s one of those crazy things you never think about growing up hearing about the Nazis, that it wasn’t just some government overthrow by a dictator and his goons. No. He used the electoral system, fear, and his oratory skills to persuade the masses, who suffered from woes he blamed on outsiders, and some within.
“Yeah.” I nod. “Next question.”
“This shit is depressing.” Paul huffs but starts reading the next one anyway.
