I guess,” I say. “I don’t really know.” As far as I know, they were mostly normal. But I don’t exactly have another set of parents to compare them to.
“What was Hannah’s relationship with them like?”
“She got along with Mom, for the most part. But she’d fight a lot with Dad.”
“And you? What was your relationship with them like?”
Better than whatever their relationship was with Hannah, but still rocky. And it only got worse as time went on, the fights getting more and more frequent. “Fine, I guess. Things got worse after Hannah left.”
“When did Hannah leave?”
I sigh. “The night I called her, that was the first time I’d spoken to her in about ten years.” My fingers find the little balls of fuzz on the couch and can’t resist picking at them, twisting them together until they get too big. I just leave them sitting there when I’m done.
“I see. Are you comfortable staying with your sister right now?”
“Is there an alternative?”
“Do you want one?”
I shake my head. “Just wondering. This all stays between us, right?”
Dr. Taylor uncrosses her legs and leans forward in her chair, the leather squeaking underneath her. “You’re my patient.” She points to the door with the end of her pen. “I won’t discuss anything that happens inside this room with anyone but you. Not only am I legally required to, but the privacy and safety of my patients is important to me, Ben. We could go over informed consent if you’d like?”
“Informed consent?”
Dr. Taylor walks over to a filing cabinet in the corner of the room, sifting through the rainbow of folders situated there. “It’s an important procedure, where I lay out everything I’ll be going over with you, the limits of what we’ll be discussing, as well as the benefits of treatment, and, more importantly”—she walks back across the room and hands me the stack of paper—“confidentiality.”
I take a deep breath through my nose, trying to read through everything the documents entail. Sure, there’s the Hippocratic oath and everything, but I don’t even know if that’s supposed to apply to therapists, or if that’s just the surgery sort of doctor. This woman hasn’t given me anything to base a level of trust on.
But the papers lay it all out, or at least they seem to. “We can go over each part step by step if you like.” Dr. Taylor leans in closer. “But I swear to you that unless I think you are an immediate threat to your own life or someone else’s, I’m not going to tell a soul what goes on in here.”
“I … I’m sorry.” This weird sense of shame creeps up my face.
“You don’t have to be sorry, Ben. I realize it’s scary, I can only imagine what you’ve been going through these last few days, even months.” Dr. Taylor speaks quietly. “But that’s what I’m here to do. I want to help you, help understand what you’re going through.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s what I’m here for. Do you want to go through the forms?”
“If we’ve got time?”
“Sure. We can review them while we talk.”
It’s a lot. There are some things that are simple or self-explanatory, but there’s even more that I don’t understand. Then Dr. Taylor says, “So are you out to your sister?”
“Oh, um …” I flip through the next page and read briefly over what it says, sign my initials where Dr. Taylor tells me it’s needed.
“We don’t have to talk about it.”
I try to breathe. “I mean, I’m out. To her. And to Thomas. I sort of had to be, didn’t I?” I try to laugh, but even to my own ears it sounds forced.
“Are you comfortable with that?”
“I have to be, don’t I?”
“No. Of course, circumstances were out of your hands. I know in this scenario, telling them why you’d been forced out of your home was the easiest option, and maybe the only one. But that doesn’t mean you have to like it.”
“They’re trying. Hannah and Thomas correct themselves when they use the wrong pronouns.”
“That’s good. And what about at school? Are you adjusting easily?”
“I mean, it’s school. I’m not out, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Uh-huh.” Dr. Taylor clicks her pen and adds that to her notes. “Do you want to talk about that?”
“Nothing to really talk about.”
“You think so?”
“Doesn’t exactly feel safe.”
“That’s a fair point.” There’s this shine in her eyes, and I expect her to fight me on that, but she doesn’t.
“But?” I say.
“No ‘but.’ Have you met anyone at your new school?