Page 46 of Crew
She went in and sat behind her desk.
I took one of the two plush seats set up in the corner of her office. A large green plant sat on the table between them, and I reached out to touch it.
The plant was plastic.
She typed for a moment on her computer before turning the screen off.
I gestured to the plant. "It's new."
"Administration decided we need to be green and healthy and alive. So..." She made a face, positioning her chair so she faced me directly. She folded her hands over her lap. "There you go. That's my contribution."
"You should name him Gus."
Her head fell forward an inch. "Name my plant?"
"Yes."
"Gus?"
"Yes."
"Okay." She straightened her skirt, smoothing her hands over the edge. "I have a male plant named Gus. I feel like I should formally meet my own fake plant."
I picked it up, holding it out to her. "Here you go."
Her eyes went to mine. "Are you joking?"
Yes. I shrugged. "You're a counselor. Isn't doing crazy shit part of the job description?"
"Crazy shit?" She sucked in her breath, shaking her head. "Yes. This is it. I am back to work. Summer is over, and Bren Monroe is swearing in my office. It's a normal Tuesday like all the other years. And yeah." She glanced at her wrist. "That took two minutes. We're back in our old roles."
"You're the one who has a fake plant."
"Because I will kill a real one, and come on--I'm doing the best I can. I'm following the rules."
"You got mad at me for saying 'crazy shit.' You made me talk to an empty chair last year. Three times," I reminded her. "I had a fight with an empty chair. It was air, and I got pissed off."
She smiled. "Well, the chair talked back. I heard it too."
I started laughing. Then I stopped because I didn't laugh--with her especially.
"You can laugh. Even Gus thought that was funny." She gestured to the plant still in my hands.
"You should go on tour. Be a professional comedian. You could be famous."
She didn't even blink. "Lame attempt at getting me to quit my job. We'd still be doing this, even if I did hand in the towel."
I lifted my shoulder. "It was a long shot." I scratched behind my ear. "I know the whole premise is that I'm crazy and that's why I get sent here, but I only feel nuts when I'm actually in this office. Life makes perfect sense to me outside of this square box."
"Perfect sense?"
I nodded. I would back up what I said. She didn't know about the firefly.
"You lost your mother when you were eight. Your brother was basically nonexistent in your life. And your dad, who had an intense anger problem, went to prison two years ago. I have already heard about two incidents you were a catalyst for--two potentially violent incidents--and the rumor around school is that there was a huge crew fight at Manny's in Fallen Crest last night. No one had to tell me you were a part of that too. That's three incidences in two days, Bren."
She leaned back in her chair, waving her hand between us. "You and me, we've been doing this dance for a while. Two years, to be exact. You were mandated to come to sessions with me when your dad went in and you went to your brother's custody, but we'd already met a few times after your mom died. You have stonewalled me at every turn. Isn't it time you start talking? Three fights in two days. That's a lot of pain to hold on to. You have to be exhausted."
Not on a bad day.
