Page 70 of Dream a Little Dream

Like his. He was an egg.

Eggs taste better broken.

“There should be an off switch, you know?” Aaron wasn’t sure if he was speaking to Drew or just voicing his own thoughts.

In therapy, Aaron usually donned a mask, pretending everything was fine. It was exhausting. Like a full day of manual labour. He had to work hard to keep his facade intact. That was the point of counselling. To break him open and watch his innards spill onto the pristine carpet. But he never would. His shell was dense, fortified. His protective box sealed shut with superglue.

Unless Dr Kenneth Lyons touched him.

And keeping all that inside was becoming more difficult. A challenge. Because Kenny had wormed it open. Had ripped off his top as if he was opening his box, spreading pesky feelings all over the place. Then he’d turned his back and answered a call from his fuckinggirlfriendwhen he’d been standing there, begging him to take him. When the last person who had, hadn’t asked or been invited.

“Why would you want to switch yourself off?” Drew asked, pen poised above his notepad, twig-like legs crossed as he peered over his glasses. Aaron kept his head thrown back, staring at the ceiling, trying to escape the intensity of Drew’s stare.

“It’s easier.” Aaron shrugged, as if dismissing the topic. “Emotions are like little prickly ants crawling over your skin.” He ran his fingers over his bare arm. “Or an irritating prick prodding your temple.” He thudded his forehead with his finger. “They’re useless. The world would be a better place if humans didn’t feel. I mean, look at the animal kingdom.” He straightened up in the chair, as if preparing for a debate. “Lions. Do you think they give a fuck? No. They sleep, hunt, and eat. You don’t see a lion in a cage crying, do you? Even in a zoo. They roar. If one of their own dies, they just move on. Death is part of life.”

“Are you not saddened by death?” Drew’s question cut through Aaron’s bravado and he remained stoic, a slight eyebrow twitch the only sign he was listening, allowing Aaron to pour out his emotions like a vomit of words.

“Don’t paint me as a psycho,” Aaron snapped.

“I’m not implying that.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No,” Drew continued calmly, “I’m merely curious if recent events have affected you. Aaron, you came to me because you had a heated exchange over the smell of curry that wasn’t even yours. Then again, over a jar of Marmite. Also wasn’t yours. Those seem trivial, don’t you think? If such inconsequential things can trigger such a wild reaction, then perhaps something deeper could cause more anguish? More destruction.”

Aaron ground his teeth. “It wasn’t just a jar of Marmite.”

“What was it then?”

“A principle.”

“Ah.” Drew scribbled something down. “So your principles are important to you?”

“Aren’t they to everyone?”

“Not everyone.”

Aaron fell back into the seat. God, he fucking hated therapy. Was so damnboredwith therapy.

“What about rules?” Drew probed further. “Injustice? Are you triggered by those?”

“No.”

“So what was it about…” Drew skimmed through his notebook, “…Archie, that made you angry enough to step in on behalf of someone else? Someone, you say, you weren’t friends with.”

“Entitlement.”

“So entitlement bothers you?”

“Not that entitlement exists. I mean, people can’t help being born into privilege. What fucks me off is people looking at me like I’m not one of them.”

“And you feel you are? That you are…entitled. Privileged.Superior?”

“I’m from care. I’m none of those things.”

“But you feel you are?”

Aaron shrugged. “It just pisses me off.” Everyone knew he struggled with outbursts, many of them he couldn’t explain himself. It was as if he had a ball of rage inside him and anything was likely to tip it over the edge. The devil knocking to be set free.Tap. Tap. Fucking tap.“You try living in a home where all the kids are damaged, all kick off, yet the staff are terrified of you. Thequietone. That’s some fucked-up shit.”

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