[ lennox ]
we sit in a circle, a barricade of chairs with no entrance or exit. the plastic chair molds uncomfortably against my back and the room is cold, colder than the ice encasing my mother's heart. no one speaks, the silence loud and pregnant in my ears, almost causing them to bleed. everyone either stares blankly out into space or stares at the person's shoes opposite to them as we all await our instructor.
oh, you have no idea how much i hate group therapy sessions.
we fucked up beings of nature are forced to face each other and relive our "demons" for the sake that we release them out to the world for others to be killed with. meanwhile, everyone in our tight little circle of life comforts and smiles and nods in sympathy toward the other when we all know our emotions we portray are nothing but bittersweet lies.
today is no exception.
it's not even nine in the morning yet and i want to bang my head against a brick wall. these sessions are much to painful to endure and to experience them at nine in the morning is a punishment worse than death.
we are all waiting for our new instructor since the old one quit because he thought we were "all dead anyway, what's the use in helping people who want to die? i say go at."
as you can tell, our old instructor was a fucking asshole.
suddely, a door slams open and everyone turns to the sound of the unwelcomed noise.
a young woman at about the age of her mid-twenties walks in, mumbling to herself in a way that shows she's extremely agitated, and fumbles with her things. she reminds me of a baby deer just born into the world, barely even able to support her thin, bony legs, much less any of her things.
she calls out, "can anyone help me here?"
no one moves and, as if by magic, we all turn away and slouch back into our chairs, resuming our lifeless staring.
the woman grumbles something and manages to close the door with her foot. she has tote bags by the hundreds around her shoulders and she's lugging one of those rolling carts filled with an assortment of different books and papers. what a mess.
she arrives to the only uninhabited chair in our circle and dumps all her shit with a clang on the metal. everyone stares at her as she fixes her things in a manner that she deems neat (which, might i add, looks even more messier) and blows a strand of loose blond hair out of her eyes.
she's dressed casually in jeans, a plain blue t-shirt with a little, white pocket on the breast, and beaten-up converse (unlike howard aka our old instructor who dressed impeccably every goddamn day like he was heading to a fancy dinner afterwards.) i notice the name tag on the front of her breast pocket (how childish) and see her name is marie.
marie places her hands on her hips and produces a smile that burns my eyes. i look away and notice that some of the others have done the same. i also notice some of the anorexics and bulmics glaring daggers at marie's perfectly shaped form. i mean she has everything one of these starving, scrawny bitches never had (i.e. a thigh gap, skinny legs (which i think i mentioned before because they reminded me of a baby deer), spindly arms, a flat stomach, etc.)
marie walks to the center of the circle (which howard never did) and turns to look at each of us with a smile that bothers me. i hate her the moment she turns to me and smiles at me with a ridiculous tooth gap in her two front teeth. it makes her look even more childish.
"sorry, i was late, ladies and gentlemen. there was an accident on fifth avenue and it was chaotic," she does this little apologetic shrug of her shoulder, "so how is everyone?"
silence.
if there were crickets in this room, they would all be chirping.
i am surprised by our defiant silence, especially since i thought old bipolar lady jo would start up another one of her stupidly long stories but even she is quiet.
marie doesn't seem to notice, or care, that we are quiet and sulking and glaring and blankly staring. what is wrong with this bitch? i hated happy people more than i did therapy and that was saying a lot.
"well, that's fine. you don't have to speak to me, but, remember, i am here to help each and every last one of you, which i will."
i want to scoff at her confidence but i knew if i did, it would immediately get her attention. these instructor people are like that, like fucking hawks. if they even sense a small movement, leaning forward, leaning back, fiddling with your hands, licking or pursuing your lips, cracking your knuckles, fidgeting, blinking, shit even breathing, they will call you out. it's the worse.
"so, for our first excerise, i want you guys to stand and meet up with the person opposite to you," she declares and motions for us to move up and meet halfway to our partner.
at first, no one moves, and then richie, once drug abuser and dealer (but who can believe we really stray away from our passions), stands up and goes toward a teenage boy in our circle right across from him. then it is like a chain reaction and everyone begins to stand, shuffling toward their partners in silence.
i look across the circle at my opposite, a seventeen year old girl like me named haley. she's never really talked, even when howard was here. she refused to speak for so long that i have always wondered if she was born mute or if her tongue was cut out. at the moment, she's slouching low in her seat and makes no move to come to me, practically ignoring my attempt at civility.
great, i'm going to go over there. god, i hate moving.
as you can tell, i hate a lot of things.
but i stand nonetheless and make my way over to where she's sitting.
i never did know why haley was in therapy. it was hard to guess what haley was in for because the thing was she seemed so fucking normal.
her entire appearance screams "i'm sane, i'm healthy, i'm fine." she looks like a regular teenager with problems that revolve around what the new fall trends are and what were the answers on last weeks physics quiz, not therapy of all things.
i loom over her once i arrive at her chair and my shadow completely overtakes hers. the only acknowledgement she gives me is a harsh, unkindly glance from the corner of her eye and tucks her head into the hood of her sweatshirt, placing earbuds in at the same time.
well, this'll seem like great fun.
i drop into the seat next to her and we wait for the others to situate themselves. we're quiet as midnight and out right brooding. i try to not to shake my foot or tap my fingers impatiently since marie would obviously notice, so i try to relax.
marie claps her hands excitedly and her smile refrains from falling, "great, you guys, just great. now, you all are probably well accquianted with one another so... wait, you do all know each other, correct?"
again, there is that booming silence. no one says a word and i watch as marie's mouth comically drops. it reminds me of a cartoon and how much more childish it makes her seem.
howard was a shitty instructor, never really into "helping" us with our problems that got us wound up in here. he had automatically assumed we all knew one another because we were all fuck-ups in the first place so shouldn't fuck-ups automatically know one another like family.
ha, yeah, sure.
so, as a result of howard's neglect, we never really knew anything about each other except for names and sometimes the reasons why we were sitting in a fucking circle. at least he didn't make us do shit, as i was a lazy person, so i'll give him that.
"wh- wh- what?" marie stammers before regaining her posture, "well, then it's decided. we'll save our activity for tomorrow and we'll get to know everyone first. let's do some fun facts and the..uhm...reason you are in for, okay?"
fun facts. this bitch deserves to be in a kindergarten class.
there are several eye rolls and shoulder shrugs which clearly are a whatever and a suit yourself with a slight touch of fuck you.
for someone who studies psychology and body movement and other shit like that, marie does an awful job of noticing the reactions of the others. instead, she clasps her hands together and tilts her head to the side in the way a bird might cock their head to its side in a curious manner, "so, who wants to go first?"
no one moves, not even breathes, and it must be obvious they all know of the hawkish manner among instructors.
however, the boy who is richie's partner must not know, as he sighs and tilts his head back so you can see the arch of his muscular neck.
marie's anxious eyes immediately go toward him like a signal from heaven. she immediately takes the oppurtunity, "how about you, young man? in the gray jacket?"
the boy tilts his head back and points his finger to his chest as if to ask you mean me, stupid bitch?
she nods encouragingly and rushes to add, "don't feel pressured. take your time if you need we are all-"
"i tried to kill myself by swallowing a shit load of pills, a mix of codeine, tylenol, benadryl, and some other medication. and then proceed to cut my wrists," he deadpans, eyes looking dull and lips pursued in an annoyed fashion.
there is a small, immature snicker that arises from the group that is not directed at the suicidual boy but to how horrified marie's face is, as if she doesn't realize this is a therapy group.
she stammers and tries to form words before suicide boy perks up again, if you could call it perking, and holds a finger up, as if to say something of utter importance, "oh, and my name is jude. if you sing, hum, or listen to hey jude by the beatles around me, i will probably slam your fucking face against a brick wall."
i smile to myself and haley laughs under her breath. again, i'm mesmerized and shocked as to how perfectly normal it sounds. why would such a girl be in such a fucked-up place?
"well, jude, you have...lovely character in you. thanks for sharing," maries attempts a kind smile but it reminds me more of a grimace, "who wants to go next?"
"i'll go," declares a girl next to me. she reminds me of someone out of a painting, all mute colors and sharp lines. she looks like someone who watches foreign movies, listens to unknown music, and pursues an art in pyromania. but, hey, that's just me. appearance is a big judge of character for me.
marie nods and the girl, who looks about in her earlier twenties, says, "well, the name's jackson, everyone, i'm a big calisthenics person, i have a pet russell terrier named the doctor, i love the beach but i hate the sand, and the reason i'm currently in here is because i am deemed a psychopath with "vicious and unstable" tendencies, probably from years of grand theft auto, modern warfare, and halo."
marie continues to pale by the second, looking more and more ill, while jackson examines her nails, "oh, and, uh, if anyone is looking for some action, my best friend's a hooker."
"okay, well," marie stumbles with her words, "this is a very, uh, very vibrant group. perhaps, we should just move on and-"
"but i like this activity," one of the anorexic girls calls out, hiding a smirk. some of the older people nod and i see that old lady jo wants to go next.
"yes, but, you see-"
"but, marie, aren't you supposed to help each and every last one of us, practically bend under our every will so that we can get better? so we can go out into the world and embrace a new and bright future built upon how you teach us to grow and develop into better people? right?" haley says next to me, one of the earbuds falling out. this is possibly the first time i've ever seen her engaged in one of our talks before.
hook, line, and sinker. well done, haley, i think to myself, grinning a bit.
marie tries to speak but our group replies in an uproar, demanding we should all find out more about each other. perhaps everyone was actually eager to learn more about our peers but it seems more likely that they want to scare marie off. nonetheless, this is possibly the first time i have ever seen everyone with a renewed light in their eyes, a slight smile to their faces. they look more confident, more excited, looking more and more...normal.
it makes me smile a litle wider.
marie sighs and pulls her fingers through her blond hair that looks like she's irritated. however, her eyes twinkle with satisification and something else i can't pinpoint.
however childish marie may seem, it works for her. maybe we all need a little bit of "childish" every now and then, to redeem our innocence and happiness before we fell to our demons.
"okay, fine. who wants to go next?" marie asks and several hands go up.
i grin. i might actually not hate therapy.
ha, i'd like to see that happen. i guess we'll see.
