Fiction: Therapy Session

By Zary Fekete

Nick pulled into the parking lot and checked his watch. It was just before 7:30 on Saturday morning. There was one other car in the lot. He guessed that was probably one of the other guys who was here for the session. Nick didn’t feel like meeting anyone just yet. He turned off the engine and cracked his door a bit. A puff of warm August air drifted into the car. He sat back and blew out through his mouth. He took a few deep breaths(one of the coping mechanisms the therapist Thad had given him).

As he breathed in and out a previous conversation played in his mind between him and Thad.

Why should I do this?

Because therapy intensives work.

Who else will be there?

Two other guys I work with.

What will we do?

Explore your past.

Nick looked at the office building. The sun was just starting to touch the top windows of the three-story structure. How long had he been coming here?. Three months? God, no. It was almost six months. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the building and visualized the first time he met the counselor, Thad. 

Thad had been recommended to Nick by another guy who was going through alcohol recovery since Nick started this journey two years ago. “He’s good,” the guy said. “And he isn’t afraid to push you.”

Thad had pushed Nick some. In fact, it was due in no small part to Thad’s pushing that Nick was here today. Nick remembered when Thad suggested this weekend session.

“Think of it as an extended single session.” Thad said. “You’d be amazed how much more we can get done when we have more than an hour.”

The main thing Nick didn’t like was that there would be the two other guys in the session. So far, he had only met Thad alone. He felt old fashioned, but he didn’t relish the idea of sharing his struggle with others. It had gradually become easier to tell Thad about his messy past: The first time I passed out from drinking. The first time his wife confronted him. The first time he agreed he needed help. The first time he admitted things about his childhood. Etc. Etc.

“That’s part of why this works,” Thad said. “When you immediately are forced to enter into a trusting relationship with a total stranger it prepares you to be raw and open.”

In the end Nick did what he always did when Thad suggested something. He shrugged and agreed. He looked across the parking lot at the other car. The guy had gotten out and was walking toward the front entrance. Another car was pulling in.

“Well, that’s all of us,” Nick thought. He took another deep breath, blew it out, and then got out of the car. He put on his therapy face as he walked toward the front entrance. His face felt flat and pleasant. He entered the lobby and other two men were waiting for the elevator. 

The guy closer to Nick was blond and fiftyish. He turned when he heard the front door enter. When he saw Nick, he broke into a smile. 

“Hey! You must be the third guy,” he said. 

Nick forced a smile. “Yep, Nick.” He shook the blond man’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” Not true, thought Nick. He wasn’t glad to meet either of these guys.

“I’m Christopher,” he blond man said. By then the other guy had turned back from the elevator doors and was extending his own hand. 

“John,” he said, with a grin. “Ready for action?” He was a touch younger than Christopher and had a thicker build and brown hair. Nick mentally clocked both men and made up stories about them on the spot. Christopher was a real estate agent in a failing marriage. His child was in high school and had just come out as transgender. He didn’t know how to help his wife or his child. John was a pilot. He was hooked on benzos. His superiors had given him an ultimatum. “Get help or get lost.”

Nick smiled at both men as he realized he had just completely missed whatever Christopher had said to him. He smiled and nodded. “Yep,” he said, hoping that would work. He wished he wasn’t here. He had already judged these men. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. Maybe this was a bad idea. He could still leave. He could make up an excuse. I just got a call from my wife. She needs me to come home right now. He hated himself and how he was feeling. He felt like he needed to get out. Any excuse... I forgot something in my car. Be right back. Then he could drive away and call Thad later and explain…

The elevator dinged and Nick lost his chance. Christopher gestured for Nick to enter first. Nick blew out his breath. “Thanks,” he said, and stepped inside, feeling like he was sealing his fate. The other two men came in and the door closed. 

The elevator dinged again at the third floor. They got out and walked down the hall to Thad’s office. The door was propped open and there were four chairs already set up in a circle. Thad was busy against the far wall, tinkering with the coffee machine. 

When the men stepped into the office Thad turned. He broke into a smile when he saw them. He was in his late 60s with white hair. He looked like a sage professor with twinkling eyes.

“Here they are,” he said. “Gentlemen,” he gestured at the coffee.“Liquid fortification.” John and Christopher grabbed a cup. Nick sat down. A twist of anxiety knotted itself in his stomach. These were his least favorite moments in any social setting. Ever since entering recovery the experience of meeting new people was unpleasant. Like he just had downstairs he always had a knee-jerk reaction to judge people even while hating himself for doing it. He resisted smiling when it didn’t feel real. He didn’t like re-introducing himself time after time. He hated small talk. And he definitely knew that was exactly what was in store for him this morning.

The two men sat down with their coffees and all three of them waited while Thad finished gathering a few things from his desk. Christopher blew on his coffee and turned to John and Nick. “You guys have families?”

“Nope,” John said. “Still single. A couple girlfriends…nothing serious yet.”

On cue they both turned to Nick. He shifted slightly in his chair. “Yep,” he said. “Married. Two boys.”

“Love it,” Christopher said. “Me too. But I also have a girl. Three.” He grinned and nodded as he looked back and forth at Nick and John. “Is your family glad for you to be here?” he said to Nick.

Nick gave a small smile. “Yes,” he said. “Got a text from my wife this morning.” He fished out his phone and poked the screen a few times. Then he held the screen up for Christopher to see.

Christopher’s eyes glowed for a second as he read the text. He was about to say something when Thad walked over from his desk with a stack of papers. Nick breathed a sigh of relief. Thad sat down in the fourth chair and smiled at the three men.

“All met?” he said.

Christopher and John nodded. Nick sat still. “Good,” Thad said.“Then time for the ground rules.”

Nick took out a small notepad from his back pocket and clicked on the mechanical pencil that was attached to it. He had gotten used to using the notepad during the last several months of sessions with Thad. He briefly glanced back through the past notes he had taken. There were several snatches of mantras and snippets of quotes. Things like, “Trust the process” and “Progress in time” and “Expect results”.

Christopher and John sat still and waited. Thad cleared his throat as he looked down at his notes. When he looked up his smile had settled into a look of quiet intensity, the same kind of look he had whenever Nick’s sessions touched on more sensitive topics during the past weeks.

“First off,” That said. “Everything here remains confidential. Nothing leaves this room.”

The men nodded.

“That probably sounds obvious, but after the years I have been involved in therapy I’ve got to point things out like that. Clear?”

The men nodded again.

Thad smiled and tapped his pen against his stack of notes. “See here?” he said. “This is everything you all have shared with me during the past few weeks. Every session. Every word, almost. I take fast notes.”

Christopher chuckled and held up his hands. “Nothing is off limits for me, Doc,” he said. “You know that. I am an open weepy book.”

Thad continued. “Here’s how we’re going to do this. I will take each one of you in turn. When one of you is on the other guys will stay in the room and just listen. I want there to be no cross talk during the session. I will speak and do the prompting, but most of the words during the sessions will come from you guys.

Nick raised his hand. Thad smiled. “No hands needed. Just come right out and say it.”

Nick cleared his throat and caught himself taking a deep breath before speaking. “What,” he said. “I mean…I’m a little unclear about today. Is this a regular session?”

Thad shook his head. “No. This is actually a very unique opportunity for the three of you. Each one of you is going to look back through your life and get in touch with a younger self. A part of you that you may not have been met for many years.”

Nick frowned. Thad smiled. “Not sure how you feel about that?” he said. “No problem. Believe me. You aren’t the first. Most people are a little uncomfortable with this. But, don’t worry. I have been texting with Christopher earlier this morning and he has already agreed to go first. Right, Chris?”

Christopher nodded and his smile was bright. “Please,” he said with a small fist pump. “I am so ready.”

Nick felt a small surge of dislike rising in his chest. He caught himself and took a deep breath. Come on, he said to himself. You just met the guy.

Thad looked down at his notes for a second and then looked at Christopher. “Well, no reason not to start. Are you ready?”

Christopher nodded again and took a deep breath of his own. Thad moved his chair a bit to the right until it was closer to Christopher’s chair. Once he had settled himself in the new position he looked in turn at John and Nick. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen now, gentlemen. I am going to give Christopher a set of instructions. He is going to listen and follow my direction. While he does this, I want the two of you, as much as possible, to stay silent. You can get up and get coffee or water if you want, but please don’t leave the room once we get started. Ok?” 

John looked at Nick and gave him a small thumbs up. Nick nodded.

“Good,” Thad said. Then he turned to Christopher and said, “Chris…ready?”

Christ leaned back in his chair. His face was still, concentrated.

That said, “Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths.”

Slowly Christopher closed his eyes. His body was upright in the chair but after a few moments as he breathed his shoulders gradually drifted down a bit until he was sitting in a relaxed position in the chair. 

“Listen to my voice,” Thad said. “Visualize your feet on the floor. The floor is solid. It can hold you.”

Christopher nodded slowly. The atmosphere in the office felt sealed, like they were inside a capsule. Nick heard the sound of a car going by outside. Then there was complete silence. Thad slowly started tapping his pen against his pad. The rhythm sounded like a metronome. Thad began to slow the taps. As he did, Christopher’s face became more and more slack.

“Good,” Thad said. “Remember yourself as a young boy. Take yourself back to when you were ten or eleven.”

Thad waited and while he did Nick’s eyes focused on Christopher’s face. His eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly parted. Slowly his lips twitched. A single eyebrow quivered. He licked his lips a few times and the room was quiet enough for Nick to hear the saliva popping in Christopher’s mouth.

The light in the often shifted as the sun outside moved behind a tree. Shadows drifted gently across the walls. Everything was very still. Thad leaned forward a bit in his chair. The paper in his lap rustled gently. Nick held his breath. 

The room was still.

The room was deathly still.

Then Christopher spoke.

“It’s 1965. Summer in Minnesota. July. The middle of a heatwave. Temperature is 88 degrees…seven in the morning. I’m on my folks’ farm near the South Dakota border. Standing outside wearing shorts and no shirt. Dad just left in his pickup. I stand on the dirt driveway with the cloud of dust from the tires still hanging in the air around me. I can feel the imprint of his whiskers on my cheek where he hugged me. I can smell the beer on his breath. It’s a smell that’s been a part of him for as long as I can remember. I feel warm when I smell it. It makes me feel happy and nervous. I remember that smell when I think of mornings like this one, whenever he would hug me before going to work. I remember it when I think of evenings when he would come home and sit by the radio and drink. I remember one night when Mom stood at the bathroom door for a long time…knocking. She finally called Bill and he shoved his shoulder against the door until it broke open. Dad had fallen off the toilet and was sleeping on the floor. Bill had to help him get to bed. His mouth hung open as Bill carried him. He had peed his pants. I stand in the driveway thinking about this for a long time. The dust slowly settles around me. I feel the sunshine come over the top of the hill and the rays of light heat my skin. I hear the sounds of my brothers waking up in the house behind me. I know I’ll need to go back inside soon, but I don’t want to. I stand in the driveway until the sun has filled the eastern sky and is making me sweat. I turn and go inside the house. Inside the sun bakes into the living room windows. My two older brothers are in the kitchen looking for something to eat. There’s not much. Mom isn’t making food for us anymore. There hasn’t been any new food in the fridge for as long as I can remember.Neighbors sometimes bring us things. Somebody from church brought us a basket of apples three days ago, but the apples were full of worms and flies. The basket is still on the porch and it has started to smell like raisins. Bill pulls a tub of butter out of the fridge and scoops out a large pat with a spoon. He licks it like ice cream. He sits at the kitchen table and turns on the radio. There are unwashed plates piled on the table and in the kitchen sink. Some of them are growing mold. Peter, my other brother, is toasting a cracker over the burner on the stove. The smell of the burnt cracker fills the air in the kitchen. There is nothing for me to eat unless I open a can of beets from the basement. I did that yesterday morning. I stand in the kitchen, and I can smell myself. I tried to wash my clothes yesterday. I used the washboard and the tin bucket in the basement. The bucket was full of oily water. I can smell mildew on my shirt. My brothers are both shirtless in their boxers. The music on the radio is country. Someone is singing about the state fair. My brothersfinish eating. Bill looks out the window and sees the dogs chasing the cat. He walks to the front door and lets the cat inside. I walk to the living room to fill the cat’s water bowl. Phil comes up behind me and pushes me to the ground. Then he’s on top of me, tickling me. I laugh, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. My shorts are half-pulled down from my squirming. Peter picks up the cat and tells Phil to hold me down. Phil moves around on top of me and pulls up my shirt. He holds it bunched around my face, and I can’t breathe. Peter laughs while holding the cat. He pinches the cat making her meow and squirm. Her meows get louder. I holler at Phil to let me go. I can’t see anything through my shirt. I feel the dirty floor under my belly. Grit and pebbles press into my skin. Phil won’t let go of my shirt. I think I’m going to suffocate. Then Peter throws the cat onto my back. I feel the cat’s claws scratch deep as she runs off. Phil still won’t let me go. Peter grabs and cat and throws her onto me again. I scream for him to stop. My back is on fire. The feeling is deep under my skin. The cat runs off, and my brothers laugh. For some reason I laugh too. Phil finally lets me up. I roll over and gasp. I can feel grit pressing into the blood on my back.Peter smacks my back with his hand and ruffles my hair. I keep laughing. My brothers drift out the front door, talking about baseball. They grab their fishing poles. I grab my pole to follow them. Phil takes my pole and chucks it onto the top of the house. They walk down the driveway. Slowly I follow them. We walk through the woods toward the stream. Phil and Peter keep talking, laughing. Phil picks up stones and throws them back at me. I dodge them as they come, but one of them hits me in the head. Phil shouts “Touchdown!” . I smile and rub my head. We get to the stream and walk out onto the short dock. The water is slow and muddy. Mosquitos rise up to hover around us. I swat at them. One of them lands on my ankle and bites. I scratch at my skin. My brothers drop their fishing lines into the stream. All three of us are quiet. We sit and watch the water drift by. Peter asks me if I want to see something fun. I nod. He reaches under the dock and pulls out a tattered porn mag. The pages have been flipped through many times. It’s held together with scotch tape. My face starts to burn. I start to think of… No, I push the thought away. Peter turns the pages. Phil points and jostles me with his elbow. It’s the first time I’ve seen naked pictures, but not the first time I’ve… No. No. I feel my face on fire. Phil grabs the mag and unzips his pants. I turn, frightened. I jump off the dock and run back into the trees. I hear their laughter following me as I run. As I run the shadows of the trees flicker around me. I keep running. My face and lungs are burning. Finally, I’m back at the driveway. I feel like I’m going to puke. I take deep breaths of dusty air. My hands are on my knees and flies are buzzing around my head. I swat at the flies and walk toward the house. Inside the living room the air is warm and damp. Not much breeze comes through the screen door. The cat is curled on the sofa. I sit down and stroke her fur. Loose fur comes off on my sweaty hand. Across from the couch is a wall of family pictures. At the top are my two sets of grandparents. Below them are pics of my mom and dad in high school. Then there are photos of me and my brothers. There’s a blank space near the end of the bottom line. That was where sister’s photo would go…before a few months ago when Mom lost her. The night it happened Mom was in the bathroom, crying. Dad stood outside, waiting. There was a big sob from inside. Dad asked what had happened. Mom said the baby was on the toilet seat. Dad went inside the bathroom with her. They were in there a long time. When Dad came out he was holding something small on a piece of toilet paper. His eyes were red. Mom was still crying in the bathroom. Dad sat down at the kitchen table with me. He said it was my sister. The thing on the toilet paper was pink with red spots of blood around it. The next day he buried it behind the house in the woods. Mom stopped making food. She stayed in bed a lot. She yelled at me. Sometimes she hugged and kissed me. She… I push the thought away. I hear creaks and groans through the floor boards from upstairs. It’s Mom. She’s awake. She’s drawing a bath. I hear the watery sound through the ceiling in the living room. I stand up quickly and go to the front door. But then she calls down to me. I want to leave. I walk upstairs. The staircase is close and hot. As I walk up the steps the boards creak. I hear her in the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet. There’s a flush. I hear her foot step into the tub. I’m at the bathroom door. She tells me to come in. I open the door. The air in the bathroom is steamy and thick. Her panties and bra are on the sink. She’s sitting in the tub while it fills. I keep my eyes on the floor. She says something to me. I look at the floor. I walk to the tub and take the sponge. I dip it in the water. The water flows around my hot hand. I take the bar of soap and rub it on the sponge. I lift the sponge. My eyes are on the water around her. There are bubbles of soap popping. She says something to me. I lift the sponge. It moves across her skin leaving thick white lather. It coats her back and arms. She lays back in the water. I keep my eyes on the water. Her breasts float up. She says something to me. The sponge moves across her front. There is more lather. It’s so hot in here. She says something to me. I keep my eyes on the water. I move the sponge lower. I keep my eyes on the water. I keep my eyes on the water.”

Christopher stopped. There were tears on his cheeks. He licked his lips and let out a small gasp.

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

The office was silent. Thad put his hand on Christopher’s shoulder. “Take a second,” he said. 

Christopher breathed deeply. He shuddered as he exhaled. Nick snuck a glance at John. He was looking at the floor. Nick felt sweat pooling in his arm pits. The room was close around him. He squirmed in the chair.

Christopher’s breath was ragged, but was finally beginning to slow. Nick looked at John again. He was looking down at his lap. His eyes were wet. After a few moments Thad turned to Nick and John. 

Nick didn’t really hear what Thad said. Stuff like not needing to feel guilty for the past…validation for what Christopher had shared. The words drifted past Nick. He was caught in his head. The images of what Christopher shared were mingled with Nick’s own thoughts from his life. He felt disgust for Christopher. Feelings of anger and spite rose in his mind. He thought about his own past. Was he meant to share that here today. No. No, he thought. He couldn’t. The weight of it all seemed too great to imagine.

“Let’s take a short break,” Thad said, breaking through Nick’s thoughts. “Get some air.” 

Nick stood and walked quickly out into the hall. He heard John standing up from his chair behind him in the office, but Nick didn’t wait. He ignored the elevator and pushed open the door for the stairwell. It banged and echoed in the empty concrete space around him. He took the stairs in twos, almost running. He burst out the front door of the office building. He was panting, almost gagging. He had his keys out. 

He floored the gas and tore out of the parking lot. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest. He drove onto the highway. His mind was racing. I can’t do that, he thought. There’s no way. I won’t do that. I can’t…

He saw a store on his right. He jerked the wheel and the car spun crazily into the parking lot. He parked sideways in a stall. He jumped out and ran into the store. There were neon lights all around him. Signs flashed in his peripheral vision. He stood in front of a wall of bottles. His hand itched. He clenched his fists. He picked up a bottle.

Zary Fekete grew up in Hungary. He has a debut novella (Words on the Page) out with DarkWinter Lit Press and a short story collection (To Accept the Things I Cannot Change: Writing My Way Out of Addition) out with Creative Texts. He enjoys books, podcasts, and many many many films. Twitter and Instagram: @ZaryFekete