Page 139 of Men in Shorts

“Hm, that won’t last,” Colin teased.

Andrew didn’t laugh.

* * *

Shouldn’t this get easier?Andrew thought as he entered his therapist’s empty waiting room. It was not only his third visit, but his third visitthis week. By now he should be good at it, whatever that meant.

He sat on the edge of a soft leather hunter-green chair. From here he could see both the exit and the door to the office of Dr. Thomson, his psychologist.

Colin had accompanied him on his previous two visits, to offer moral support—and probably to stop him running away. But he’d quickly noticed Andrew not only didn’t hate the experience, but almost looked forward to it.

“Knew you’d be keen on therapy,”Colin had said,“once you realized it was fifty straight minutes of talking about yourself.”

Dr. Thomson opened her door and beckoned Andrew in with a warm smile. He took a deep breath as he entered, inhaling the unique cinnamon/ginger scent of her afternoon coffee.

“How are you?” she asked as they settled into comfy armchairs across from each other.

“Do you mean ‘How are you?’ as in, ‘Hello’ or ‘How are you?’ as in, ‘How are you feeling?’”

“Either. Both.” She pulled her long blond hair behind her shoulders. “Whichever you prefer to begin with.”

“Ah. In that case, I’m well. How are you?”

After a half-minute discussion of this week’s unseasonably warm weather, they moved on to Andrew’s plans for the immediate future.

“I’ve decided to take a sabbatical from uni,” he told her. “Just until September. As you said, hopefully between now and then I’ll know what I want to do with my course. In the meantime, I’ve got a new passion—or rather, a new twist on an old passion.”

“What’s that?”

“Food,” he said. “I’ve always been into what Colin calls ‘that crunchy shite,’ by which he means healthy eating.”

“Yes, in our last session you said you’d researched the best foods to help him heal from his injury.”

“I did.” Andrew marveled at how much his therapist remembered, considering she rarely made notes in front of him. “So now I’m studying the best foods to help me…you know.”

“Heal?”

“Heal,” he repeated, with some effort. “Anyway, I might start a blog or do a few videos. Perhaps it could help others. If nothing else, it’d give me something to do all day whilst Colin’s at uni.” The thought of sitting alone in his flat made Andrew’s skin shimmy.

“That’s an interesting idea.” Dr. Thomson uncrossed and recrossed her legs, smoothing her brown suede skirt. “Talking of Colin, how are things at home?”

“They’re quite…calm.” He chuckled. “I never thought that would be a good thing.” Without going into detail, he told her how he and Colin had kept things low-key in the bedroom since his second panic attack, to avoid triggering a third. Andrew was surprised how easy it was to open up to his therapist, knowing his secrets would never leave this room.

Of course, thefactof his treatment was no secret. “Also,” he continued, “Colin helped me work out how to share with the world my, erm, struggles.” It was still difficult to even think words likeanxiety,depression, andPTSD, much less say them aloud.

“What form did that take?” Dr. Thomson asked.

“A short statement on my Tumblr, a paragraph or so. Which I then screen-capped to share on Twitter and Instagram. It was all rather drama-free—by my standards, at least. I usually do things with a bit more fanfare.”

She nodded. “And how did your followers respond? I remember you were worried about the ‘hordes of haters,’ as you put it.”

“There were some of those, though not even enough to qualify as a single horde. And the others…” Andrew paused. Thinking of those who’d shown him support made it difficult to breathe, much less speak. “Others were much kinder,” he managed to whisper at last.

“How did that feel?”

“Honestly?” He put a hand to his aching chest. “It felt…I feel…unworthy.”

“I see.” Dr. Thomson thought for a moment. “What do you think would make you worthy of their kindness?”

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