Fat // Harry Styles

chapter thirty-four

chapter thirty-four

DOCTOR MARTY ALLEN was called in to speak to me since he was on my record as my therapist. There was no warning that he was coming; he just knocked on the door out of nowhere with his clipboard and striped tie and spiffy suit. I'd been incredibly awkward sitting across from him on a couch, so imagine my incapability of speaking properly when I was in a hospital bed.

Was it a trick for therapists to not get uncomfortable? Marty hadn't even flinched in the tense atmosphere. In fact, he was trying to go about a normal conversation as if I wasn't losing my mind gradually each minute. He was doodling on his clipboard like a child might've since I wasn't exactly giving him anything to write down. It was hard to answer a question in more than one word, so I didn't.

"How's your family?" he asked.

"Fine."

"Even with the situation at hand?"

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"Sure."

At this, he finally heaved a sigh and peered up at me. "Delilah, I know this isn't your favorite thing, but you could at least give it a try. Have more of an open-mind, and you might just realize that this isn't the worst thing in the world."

Biting the inside of my cheek, I glanced down and picked at my nails. "Sorry."

"Let's try again, shall we?"

"Okay."

"And let's try to answer with more than one word..."

"Okay." He frowned at me, so I added, "I'll try."

Marty seemed to learn from our previous--and only--session. He kept the conversation simple and calm for a while instead of diving straight into the hard stuff. When he did start dancing around the bad things, somehow he'd managed to get me comfortable enough to tell him about Lacy and her visit the night before. I admitted that I was scared of filing any reports in case they didn't work or Justin found out and went crazy.

His reply was, "It's reasonable to be anxious, but perhaps in the future you'd regret not speaking up, yes?"

That made me think a bit more than I wanted to. The future had never been something that worried me before. I used to have my whole life planned out, but clearly things didn't go according to the plan. I didn't like thinking too far ahead now. Too much of life was unpredictable, and when a prediction of yours shatters into pieces, you're left disappointed and miserable. I wanted to try and spare myself the misfortune of pulverized hope.

Talking wasn't so bad anymore, not after a while. It was weird how peaceful it had started to become, almost like I was speaking to myself. Every now and then I'd get caught in a monologue of something dreadful, but it was like talking to a mirror because Marty stayed silent until I had finished. I think that helped a lot to know he was actually listening, or at least very good at acting like he was.

After an hour or so, Marty stood up and stretched and gave me a friendly smile. "Thank you for opening up to me, Delilah. It's been a pleasure. I hope this time has convinced you to try another session when you're feeling better."

"Maybe..."

"That's not a no," he said with a laugh. "Feel better, Delilah. Hopefully, I'll see you soon in a much happier state."

When he left, I sank back into my pillows. There was a lightness in the air despite the building itself. I hadn't told Marty the gruesome bits or even most of my inner thoughts during and after my unhealthy relationship, but I'd told him more than I would've ever thought I could. It gave me a headache and made me nauseous, but I did it nonetheless.