Page 6 of True Sight (Nat. 20, #4)
CONRAD
“ I think you should get a dog,” Hanna announces after I explain to her what happened last night with Malcolm.
She had me walk her through my exchange with Allie from the coffee shop and the subsequent interaction I had with my friends after telling them about it too.
While I did, she jotted down notes and leaned away from me without missing a beat when I tried to crane my neck to see what she was writing down.
“You what ?” I curl my lip at the suggestion because it’s almost too asinine to even consider. Me? With a dog? Maybe I shouldn’t trust her to shrink my head week after week.
She sighs heavily before looking at me with a flat expression, tossing her pen and paper to the floor and adjusting herself so she’s sitting cross-legged in her overstuffed armchair.
“A dog . I think you should get a dog,” she repeats, crossing her hands and placing them in her lap.
“And why the hell do you think that?” I’d rather let Malcolm set me up on a date or let the powerpuff gang give me a makeover than get a dirty, smelly, destructive animal like a dog. I stare at her and feel the muscles in my face freezing into the scowl.
“Because I think it will help you with your incessant need to be in control. You’re entering a season of life where a lot of the things you used to have some control over—like the time you spend with your friends—are starting to have other things controlling them.
I think having something you can control in a healthy way would be good for you. ”
“You think I should get a dog because I’m too much of a control freak?”
“Precisely.” She shoots a finger at me and looks a little too proud. “Have you ever owned a pet?”
“Never.”
“I’m not surprised,” she quips, squinting at me with a smirk.
I roll my eyes and defensively cross my arms over my chest. “Look, I know it would be a big change for you and from what I’ve gathered in our last few sessions together, I know change is not something you handle well.
But, you might be surprised by how good a pet would be for you.
It would give you something to focus on, to take care of, to channel some of those tendencies that make you a little high strung in a productive way. ”
“First I’m a control freak and now I’m high strung, how lovely.”
“You didn’t start coming here for me to sugarcoat things, Conrad, you came here for someone to be honest with you.
This is me being honest. I do think you’re a control freak and I do think you’re a little high strung.
I also fully believe that having something else to focus on that isn’t your friends or your job would be good for you.
You don’t have to, of course, but you came to me because you were tired of your friends telling you to lighten up and not have such a stick up your ass all the time.
A dog would give you something better to do with that stick.
” She gives me another proud smile. The irritated burning feeling in my gut is back and I don’t know what to say so I just chew on the inside of my lip and push out a heated breath.
“Now, while you think about that”—she leans over and picks up her pen and paper again—“why don’t you tell me about your dreams?”
“Oh, would you look at that? Time’s up!” I slap the tops of my thighs and stand from the couch. She cocks her head to the side, clearly annoyed by my excellent avoidance skills and pushes up from her armchair.
“We will talk about them next week and how you’re doing after a few weeks on your medication. You haven’t seen any side effects, have you?” she asks as I head for the door.
“Nope, not yet,” I say quickly halfway out the door already.
“Well be sure to track anything in a note like I told you. And to keep a dream journal so we can talk about them next week.” I’m halfway down the hallway that takes me out to the parking garage, trying to ignore her.
“And think about the dog idea, I think it would really help,” she shouts down at me.
Yeah , I think to myself, getting a dog might be the thing that magically fixes me. And when it doesn’t, maybe my deranged therapist will suggest I get a lobotomy instead.
Saturday morning I find my fingers scrolling along the trackpad of my laptop as images flash in front of my eyes, when a knock comes from my front door. Pushing myself up from where I’m sitting on my couch, I go to open it and find one of my closest, and newest, friends smiling back at me.
“Hey, Miller.” She greets me with the nickname she gave me after we met last year.
She got confused and thought my first name was Miller and even after I corrected her, it stuck.
Now it’s the name she, and she alone, can call me.
We’ve grown close after we met last year when her best friend, Magnolia, fell in love and moved in with Kolbi.
Then, when we were naturally paired up at a Halloween party Malcolm was hosting at the bar he owns because everyone else was too preoccupied making faces with their partners, we grew even closer.
It’s weird being the odd man out in my group of friends who isn’t currently seeing someone else and Margaret gets that.
Ever since Magnolia and Kolbi got married, she and I have been hanging out more and more and see each other at least once a week.
“Hello, Marge ,” I drag out the name I’d given her and swing my door open wider for her to come in.
“Must you call me that?” she whines as she kicks off her shoes.
“Must you call me Miller?” We hold each other’s glares for a beat before she rolls her eyes at me and heads for the couch.
“Hey, what are you looking at?”
I’m standing in the kitchen, grabbing a drink, and turn to find her with her feet tucked under her butt.
She’s leaning forward and squinting at my laptop screen.
Feeling a sudden sense of panic, I hurry over and try to slam my computer closed but I’m not fast enough.
She snatches the laptop off the coffee table and rolls over on her back, extending her leg to keep me at a safe distance.
I try to reach around her to grab the laptop but she masterfully keeps me at bay.
“Are you getting a dog?” she squeals excitedly, scrolling through the animal shelter website I’d left open.
“I might be thinking about it,” I grunt, trying even harder to reach over her to steal my laptop back. She finally relents and lets me take it from her and sits upright on the couch looking at me.
“And who gave you this idea?” She looks at me surprised. Not once have I ever mentioned wanting to get a dog or any kind of pet for that matter.
I close my laptop and set it back on the coffee table. My eyes flit around the room knowing that my next answer will open up the can of worms I’ve been trying to keep hidden.
“Hanna did.” I clear my throat. Her eyebrows push even further together.
“Who’s Hanna ?”
I huff out a breath and decide to tell her. Margaret hasn’t judged me for anything I’ve told her about me so far and I don’t think this would be much different. “She’s my therapist.”
As soon as the word ‘therapist’ comes out of my mouth her whole face falls. Her bottom lip pouts and her eyes go wide with sympathy.
“ Mills ,” she whines, grabbing my hand with hers. “You started going to therapy?”
“Stop,” I demand, pulling away.
“Stop what? I think it’s great that you’re going. I think everyone needs to go at least for a little bit. When did you start?”
“Just a few weeks ago, I actually had another session with her this past Thursday, it’s not a big thing.
” My insides start to warm as I speak. I’m not sure why but openly admitting that I’m seeing a therapist puts me on edge.
I decided to go after months of my friends hounding me for always being so uptight all the time and had planned to keep it to myself.
But now that Margaret knows, I’m sure she’ll go and tell Magnolia who will in turn tell Kolbi.
Then our entire group will know which means I’ll have more questions to answer.
I hate answering questions.
“And she told you to get a dog?” Margaret’s voice pulls me out of the internal spiral I’m currently trapped in.
“She suggested it, yeah. Something about how it might give me a ‘healthy way of directing my high strung tendencies and need for control.’” I do air quotes when I repeat what I’d been told in my latest session with her. Margaret seems to ponder this and pushes her lips out like a duck.
“I think it’s a great idea,” she declares, slapping the tops of her legs and standing from the couch suddenly. She takes a few steps around the coffee table, heading for the front door.
“You do?” She’s slipping her shoes back on and tossing her keys into her bag. “Where are you going? You just got here.”
“To get you a dog. Let’s go.” It’s not a question, it’s a demand.
“Let’s go? I haven’t decided if I actually want one or not and I have nothing here for one anyway. Doesn’t it need, like, a bowl or something?”
She rolls her eyes at me and stomps back to the couch, grabbing my hand and pulling me up.
“Yes, Conrad, it needs ‘like a bowl or something.’ Lucky for you, they sell those at one of the many pet stores around the city.” She gives me a patronizing look.
“Now, let’s go get me a new niece or nephew. I’m ready to step into my auntie era.” She gives me a wink and throws my shoes at my feet.
Before I can argue any further, she’s holding my hand as we walk down the hallway of my building, nearly dragging me to my car.
I guess I’m getting a dog.