Page 53 of Black
CHAPTER 11
Emotions
Cia
My favorite part of the camp was the food. Back at The Inn, Lee offered me a meal a day, but most days that just meant chicken and noodles, not that I was complaining or anything. But here, the variation and the quality were amazing. The others weren’t as impressed as I was, but I couldn’t get enough of breakfast muffins, fruit, and as many bagels as I could eat. I’ve been hungry most of my life, so I would go through this mental torture for the food alone.
My least favorite part of the camp was the mandatory therapy sessions with the mad scientist. Bruce was sharp and nothing escaped him. I’ve had counselors at school that were easy to distract or fool with lies, but this guy was like a freaking mind reader, and I didn’t like it.
“You had a breakdown yesterday – do you want to tell me about it?” he asked when we sat in his office again.
“Not really,” I said and crossed my arms.
“That’s a shame. I would think that it served to show you something. Something you need to know and accept about yourself to move on and get better.”
“And if I don’t?” I asked.
“The closet is opened and you can look inside. It’s a rare opportunity to clean it out, but if you slam the door shut again, it will just be a matter of time before the skeleton in it starts to rattle and cause trouble in your life.
“Can you speak English instead of that metaphorical BS?” I asked with a bit of Black’s attitude.
“You know what I mean,” he said.
“Yeah, I do. You want to know what I was thinking and feeling while I cried and felt sorry for myself.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I wish I could tell you but I don’t know.”
“But if you did know, what would you say?”
The answer popped into my head as clear as a neon sign.
“I was sad because I don’t have a father.”
He waited for me to elaborate.
“We were talking to Mark and Anna yesterday and Mark mentioned G wants some time for himself and offered to babysit me. I think it just made me feel unwanted.”
“Excellent!” Bruce said with eagerness, “Do you see how that could correlate with your five-year-old-self?”
“Not really… I didn’t lose my dad around that time, he was just never there.”
“Ahh… but when did you become conscious of it? When did you start to compare yourself with other children and wonder why you didn’t have a father?”
I bit my lower lip. “I don’t remember. There’s no specific time that comes to mind, but probably around that time.”
“And here you are, finally having a great dad who gives you love and attention,” Bruce said enthusiastically and pointed to Gabriel, “and then it turns out he doesn’t want you either.”
“I never said that,” Gabriel protested.
“That’s not important. What matters is that it brought out a feeling of what?” He looked at me.
“Of loneliness.”
“Of loneliness,” he repeated and left it hanging in the air for a few seconds. “Do you still feel lonely?”
I shot a side glance at Gabriel and thought about how he had been there for me last night and helped me fall asleep. “No,” I answered.
