Between the Stars

Chapter Four

The smell of lavender incense wafted through the room. Sam's nose twitched as he tried not to breathe it but it was inescapable. It crowded around him, cloying and ever present as he watched the smoke curl from the incense holder in the corner of the room with distaste. He tightened his arms across his chest like a barrier, as though that would keep the smell at bay.

"Sam, I asked what you think of Ferrisburg so far?"

His therapist, Marlene, watched him from across the low coffee table. A condition of his release from the health facility was that he had to stay in therapy until the therapist decided otherwise. Sam had several thoughts on the matter, none of which his parents appreciated and none of which changed a damn thing. So here he was, in this awful room that reeked of lavender with its dim lighting and comfy furniture. This forced discomfort had to be some sort of punishment. Being here wasn't going to help— he wasn't going to let it help.

He turned his gaze back to Marlene once he'd let the silence stretch uncomfortably long. She was younger than his parents, with long brown hair and wide brown eyes. Her flowery top and black dress pants were bright but professional. A yellow notepad rested in her lap and a silver fountain pen sat poised in her fingers. Ready to study him like a science experiment.

"You not responding isn't going to help you," she reminded him.

He frowned and looked away again. This was all just a game, one that he was going to win. She wasn't going to get anything out of him.

"Give me something," she continued. "Is it nice, is it not nice, is it awful, boring, wonderful?"

Sam shrugged and pulled his arms a little tighter.

Marlene waited a few moments, then set down her pad and pen with a sigh.

"Look. We could both sit here in silence every week for an hour if you want, but it's not going to get you any closer to getting out of therapy. In fact, they'll keep extending it unless you show notable progress. I know you don't want to be here but there's only one way out. So it's up to you."

Sam turned her words over in his mind. She had a point, which was more than a little frustrating. God only knew how much he wanted to get out of therapy but the thought of dredging up all his feelings made him uncomfortable, to say the least. His apathy was his armor. The last thing he wanted to do was let someone through, to let them poke and prod at his most painful spots. He knew it would only make him feel worse. He clenched his jaw and glanced left, out the window, wishing he were anywhere but that room. Unfortunately, it was like Marlene said. There was only one way out, and that was through.

"I don't like to be judged," he muttered.

"Is that what you think? That I'm going to judge you?" Marlene's tone was irritatingly gentle.

He gave her the barest of nods without bothering to look in her direction.

She sighed. "Sam, I can promise you that is the complete opposite of my job. If I wanted to make a living judging people, I certainly wouldn't have gone through all those years of school."

Sam slowly turned to face her, still guarded.

"The town is boring," he told her.

"How so?"

She didn't pick up the pen and paper, which made him feel a little bit better.

"It's small. There aren't as many people around. There isn't as much to do." He picked at the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

"How have you been spending your time? Have you made any friends?"

He glanced up but hesitated. His mind screamed at him not to tell her. If he told her about Charlie, he might as well be admitting defeat. But as much as he wanted to resist, he couldn't help but wonder if Marlene would be able to help him understand her.