"Oliver, I'm back! Where are you?" Ed Scott called out after entering the house.
Oliver remained quiet, hoping his father wouldn't find him. However, he wasn't really concealed and as soon as his father opened the door of the living room, he found Oliver curled up on the corner of the couch.
"I'm so glad you're back!" He switched on the lights. "Why were you sitting in the dark?"
Oliver didn't respond.
"I was thinking we should go out an celebrate! Wagyu beef and... Oliver? Are you okay?"
Oliver looked up at his father through his red, tearful eyes and shrugged.
"Sorry..."
"Why are you apologising?" His father asked as he rushed to his side.
Oliver shrugged again and rubbed his eyes.
"Son... what happened?"
"I... I don't know what I expected coming back. Certainly not this anyway. I've just had such a shitty day. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. I nearly relapsed today!"
"What went wrong? What happened?"
Oliver stayed mute, hugging the pillow on his lap tighter and staring into space.
Ed Scott sighed and placed his hand on his shoulder. "I think you're finding it hard to open up to me. And that's okay. I know I would have hated if my father knew everything about my life. What about therapy? At least then you can rant to a therapist without restraints. Might give you a sense of anonymity."
Oliver groaned and leaned back on the sofa, staring aimlessly at the high ceiling. "I'm so sick of all the therapy and doctors and detoxes. Why can't I just get better? Why can't I just be happy?"
"It doesn't work that way. I wish it did because I hate seeing you like this-"
"Sorry-"
"Stop apologising. Never, ever say sorry for expressing your feelings."
"It's just.... being emotional doesn't feel right. I'm too old. It's just so childish and..."
"Unmasculine? The manliest thing you can do is show emotion. Society tells you you shouldn't cry or be sad because of your age and gender and that's why it feels strange when you express your emotions. But, I promise you it's okay if you do. No one will think less of you. No one of significance anyway. It's such a terrible idea to bottle up your feelings. That's why I think a therapist is a good idea for the moment. Until you regain your friends, a therapist is probably the person you'll feel most comfortable talking to."
"I don't know..."
"You were skeptical about rehab but didn't that turn out okay?"
"I guess..."
"Then trust me with this one. Try one session and if you don't benefit from it just don't go again."
Oliver nodded in resignation after a few moments of contemplative silence.
"Okay... I'll try it out."
He wasn't sure it would work. Would he have to fill the therapist in on everything that happened to him since high school? Because one session was definitely not enough for that but he really didn't see himself going to another session. Therapy was part of Oliver's daily routing in rehab but he usually just spent his time talking about his addictions. If alcohol and drugs were taken out of the equation, what else would he talk about?
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"You must be Oliver," The therapist boomed, coming into his office five minutes late.
Oliver nodded slowly, unamused by the unorganised man in front of him. His coffee splashed from the sides of his mug as he balanced dozens of files, coffee and a box of tissues in his hand.
"Sorry for the delay! I had to pick up my daughter from school!" He placed everything on his desk before running a hand through his messy black hair and sitting down. Slipping on reading glasses, he began to quickly jot something down on a piece of paper. Eventually, after what felt like hours, he looked up and smiled at Oliver.
"I forgot to introduce myself! My name is Dr Rami Idris. I've been working here for past twelve years and I worked in a therapy centre in Michigan before this for six years. I know very little about you apart from what you told me on the phone while setting this appointment up."
Dr Rami briefly glanced at the newly made file in front of him before returning his attention to Oliver. "So, you have spent the last two months at a rehab centre to help you deal with your addictions. Is that right?"
"Yes," Oliver replied curtly.
"My plan, if you'll let me, is to use Cognitive Behavioural Therapy to try and help you with your thought processes. A lot of the time, addictions stem from negative thoughts. You think you need to drink or swallow a pill in order to function but is that to say you can't function without this pill? That you'll essentially do badly in whatever tasks lie ahead of you because you haven't had alcohol?"
Oliver's eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. He certainly wasn't expecting this.
"CBT essentially is us working together to try and change the way you think. It's like rewiring your brain to help you think in a more positive and productive manner. We'll see how our thoughts, emotions and behaviours are all connected and how they affect each other. Are you with me so far?"
"Yes."
"Excellent. So, during our sessions, I like to take time to reflect on past experiences, present emotions and future goals. I think for today we should focus on your present emotions and maybe make plans for the more immediate future. Is that okay with you?"
Oliver nodded. "Yes."
"Okay. So, without further ado; Oliver, what's on your mind?"
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Oliver didn't open up too much during his first session. He filled Dr Rami on what happened at rehab. He didn't mention his suicide attempt or his heartbreak or his feelings of inadequacy. He cheated the system by spending their hour droning about his juice cleanse and the views. What surprised him was how quiet Dr Rami was. He never interjected or asked him to 'dig deeper'. He listened intently as Oliver spoke. Had Oliver hacked therapy?
Dr Rami was on time for their second session and Oliver found him waiting for him as he entered his office and sat down.
He developed a strategy. He had planned it all during his car journey. He would go in, sit down and only respond to the questions he was asked with the hope that, when Dr Rami eventually realised that they were going no where, he would send him home early.
"Why did you come back?" Dr Rami asked out of the blue.
Caught of guard, Oliver didn't know how to reply. "Huh?"
"You didn't seem to really like therapy last week. You spent our hour discussing the detoxing benefits of ginger and turmeric."
"Oh. Yeah. Well... I don't really have anything else to say."
The doctor smiled and took his pen out of his mouth. "I think you came because there's a part of you that still believes therapy can help you."
"With all due respect, I'm just here to make my father happy."
"Okay so why don't you kill two birds with one stone. Make your father happy and help yourself by opening up to me."
Oliver focused on a frame on the shelf behind Rami. It displayed a photo of three girls of varying ages.
"Who are they?" Oliver asked, pointing at it, resorting to his Plan B.
Plan B was to distract Dr Rami to waste as much time as he could.
Rami turned around and looked at the frame. "My daughters. Yasmine, Nadia and Rania."
"How old are they?"
Rami let out a short, light laugh. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing. Yasmine is eight, Nadia is thirteen and Rania is twenty-three."
"Big gap between Rania and Nadia," Oliver commented.
"Rania's parents were killed a few months after Rania was born. Rania is technically my niece."
"How old were you? When you adopted her?"
"Twenty-three."
"Must have been hard."
Rami shrugged. "You're very lucky."
"Why is that?"
"I have no appointments after you so this session can go on as long as it needs to."
Oliver chuckled. "Okay. What do you want me to tell you?"
Rami looked at the page under his arm. "What was life like before you went to rehab?"
Oliver's smile faltered. "I don't really like to talk about that."
"We don't have to. How about life as a teenager? What was that like?"
"Fun. Sometimes. Senior year was messy... Sorry, can you not do that? Write notes. It makes me nervous."
Rami put down his pen and nodded. "Okay. So why was high school 'messy'?"
"I loved two girls. They were both my best-friends and I fell for them. And I made the dumb mistake of cheating on one of them with the other. And that caused a lot of problems."
"Did you apologise?"
"It was six years ago."
"But did you apologise? To the both of them. For leading them on."
"Oh. Maybe. I apologised to Nora and we got back together."
"What about the other girl?"
"Why would I apologise to Madeline? She caused the whole mess. She slept with me even though she knew I was seeing Nora."
"So you blame her for what happened? "
"Yes."
"So, you don't believe any of the blame lies on you?"
"That's not what I said..."
Rami nodded slowly. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm just trying to understand how it affected you."
Oliver looked down at his fingers. He pulled at a piece of thread hanging from his sleeve. "I blame people. A lot. Sometimes even when it's not their fault. I don't know why I do it. I just do."
"It's a defense technique. It's called psychological projection. The fact that you are aware that you have used this mechanism is really good. it means you are conscious of how it's a negative characteristic and want to change it."
"So, how do I change?"
"If Madeline was here right now, what would you say to her?
Oliver rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to roleplay."
"It's not roleplay. I'm not going to pretend to be Madeline."
"It's stupid. You're not going to understand what I'm talking about. You don't know the whole story."
Rami shrugged. "I don't need to. You're not apologising to me. Imagine you're writing a letter to Madeline right now. What would you say?"
Oliver sighed and scratched the back of his head. He hadn't thought about Madeline since the news of her pregnancy. He wondered if she ever thought about him. Did her and Spencer talk about him and laugh at how big of a fuck-up he was?
His heart hurt a tiny bit. He wished they were still his friends. He wished they didn't hate him. He wished they could still enjoy all their successes and achievements together.
He looked at the white wall, long enough to conjure up an image of Madeline.
"I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry?" Rami said in a high-pitched voice.
Oliver glared at him.
"Sorry, that was a terrible impression. Anyway, continue. Pretend I'm not here!"
"Kind of hard to do." Oliver exhaled again and looked away, this time to the ceiling. He could see Madeline looking down at him.
"Madeline... I'm sorry. Sorry for I wasn't there for you when our tape was blasted at the Trinity Gala. I blamed you for a lot of the bad things that happened to me. I hated you for years after what you did to Nora. You're a good person. You definitely made questionable decisions but I really believe that you're a good person. I'm sorry it took you so long to recover and I sometimes wonder if I had been there for you, would things have escalated so much. You made me happy and I truly loved you but I loved Nora more and I should have been clearer about that."
He returned his attention to Rami who had a contemplative expression on his face. Clearing his throat, he crossed his arms and straightened his posture.
"How did apologising make you feel?"
"Um... I don't know. Kind of relieved? But it doesn't really mean anything because I wasn't actually apologising to Madeline."
"Do you ever see yourself apologising to her in real life?"
"Maybe... I don't know."
Rami smiled widely. "This is really good. I'm really happy you told me this. I think our hour is up-"
"But I thought you said you didn't have any other clients today?"
He chuckled. "I lied. But it got you to stay, didn't it?"
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Big congratulations to FairlyLocalTreehouse for the Watty's win! Everyone join me in a virtual round of applause!!!
I hope you're all doing well! Sending you all lot's of love.
Love,
-hexed