Here the Whole Time - Vitor Martins Page 0,58

happened in my life.”

Her puzzled look suddenly turns to worry, and I rush to explain.

“No, don’t worry, it’s nothing illegal. Well, maybe just a little bit.”

“Start from the beginning, then,” she says, always suggesting the most obvious option, which, up to this moment, hadn’t occurred to me.

“The good news is that I completed the challenge. I talked to Caio during the day, and we talk a lot! All the time, actually. It’s way easier now.”

A wide smile appears on Olivia’s face, and I’m happy that I’m able to elicit such an emotional response from someone like her.

“That’s a good thing, Felipe. Really good,” she says, pushing the jar of candy toward me so I can get another one. Apparently, that’s the reward for winning the challenge. I grab another one and shove it in my pocket.

And then I start telling her about everything that happened. I talk about how good it was to hang out with Caio and meet Rebeca. Olivia seems happy that I’m making new friends. I talk about how we went to the pool together, and even though I spent the afternoon sitting in a chair just watching, I felt like part of the group, which was good. Olivia is happy that I’m widening my horizons. I even tell her about my new pajamas, but she doesn’t say anything because that doesn’t seem very relevant at the moment.

Finally, I get to the part I’ve been trying to avoid. Because I don’t know how she’s going to react. But I need to put it out in the open, so I spit out one sentence after another, not even stopping to breathe.

“So. On Saturday. We went to a party. I drank beer. Jorge and Bruno showed up. I told them to go fuck themselves.”

I swallow hard, waiting for the police to walk in and take me away in handcuffs for underage drinking and (maybe) because I said fuck in a therapy session.

“Is this the part where I should think you died and were replaced by someone else?” she says with a laugh that I wasn’t expecting.

I nod.

“Tell me more about it.”

And I do. The party at the square, the cans of beer, the insults, my sudden bravery … all of it. After listening to everything intently, Olivia takes a deep breath, scans her notes, and starts talking.

“Well, Felipe, about drinking …” she starts.

“I’ve already gotten the lecture. I’ve learned my lesson. I swear,” I say, holding up both hands so she’ll see I’m not crossing my fingers. This is probably the silliest thing I’ve ever done in her office.

“Okay, moving on, then. Confronting the two guys from school. Can you repeat to me exactly what you did when you felt threatened?”

“Exactly?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Including the curse word?”

“Felipe, trust me, I’ve heard much worse in this room,” she says with a soft smile, and I feel more at ease.

“Okay. I stood up, looked straight at them, and said, ‘Bruno, Jorge. Go fuck yourselves.’ And they left.” To be honest, I don’t know where she’s going with this.

“You got up from the table, and …”

“Told them to go fuck themselves?”

“No, no. Before that.”

“Looked straight at them?”

And then she gives a little tap on the table, as if she’s just uncovered a mystery.

“Can you see how important that is, Felipe? You looked straight at them. Not down. You faced them.”

I give her a small smile because, yeah, I did. I might not remember everything in detail, but I do remember looking at them. I suddenly feel like a superhero.

“Yeah. I did look at them,” I say, still a little astounded.

I find it amazing how therapy always makes the most obvious things seem like the discovery of the century.

“Can you tell me what motivated you to react differently this time?” Olivia asks.

“The beer?” I answer, hoping I’m wrong.

“I wonder. This might be your challenge for the week. Replay Saturday night in your head and try to figure out where that sudden bravery came from. Next week, we’ll talk more about that.”

I make a face. This is the first time that my challenge of the week doesn’t consist of anything concrete. The challenge is basically to rethink stuff that I did and try to understand what was going through my mind at the time. I do that pretty often as it is. My entire life. I deserve a truckload of yogurt candy for that.

And then Olivia stands, and I notice that our time is up.

“No, no! Wait! I’m not done!” I say, a little too