She hides the truth from me 01

Monday, September 19.

I am sitting on this small purple couch.

It is hot in this room.

The only source of natural light is hidden by blackout shutters that are at least 10 years old.

I am alone with my tortured soul.

My brain is boiling.

I am fed up and my interlocutor is getting on my nerves.

This conversation is pointless. I don't want to continue. I want to be alone. I don't want to lose the little comfort I've built up. I don't want to lose this little glimmer of hope.

I want to get out, I want to get out of this vicious circle.

-Jack I have to!

This conversation is already annoying me. Yet I know it's not going to end any time soon.

-Why is that? You have no right to make me!

The incomprehension can be seen on my face. He knows what will happen if he abandons me. He has no right to leave me like that.

He is the one who helped me, supported me when I sank. I don't want anyone else's help.

-I'm telling you this for your own good. We're going to take away your custody of Mabel if you refuse!

My heart sinks at his remark.

Living without Mabel is impossible. She is my breath, my pride, my life preserver in the ocean of shit that is my life.

Anger rises in me but also a deep concern.

I need him to reassure me.

-WHAT! You're not serious now, I hope!

His face, usually so closed, reveals his thoughts to me. His complexion becomes sad as when one addresses condolences.

My heart splits while my face remains impassive, as always.

His voice is strangely soft, whereas it is usually deep and gruff.

-Jack, they think you're crazy.

This revelation is like a dagger in the heart.

It's hard for me to accept.

I angrily run my hand through my white hair. My breathing becomes jerky. I run my hands over my face. My heart beats in my chest.

Childhood memories take possession of me.

For a brief moment the wall I have erected collapses.

I see again this weak little kid in front of my eyes.

It is his fault, only his fault.

Am I at fault too?

Surely a little, otherwise it would be him sitting on the fucking sofa and not me.

My hatred towards him is triggered, I scream.

-SHIT!

My voice is low. A shiver runs down my spine.

My voice softens just as quickly, it's a whisper.

-I am not sick.

The Doc' runs his hand through his red beard. A compassionate smile appears on his lips.

The sound of his boots echoes in this small part of the room.

He sits down in front of me.

-In the eyes of the law, depression is a disease. Please Jack, accept.

I know he is right but I don't want to accept it.

I have been fighting for too long, I can't give up, not now.

What do I have to lose?

Everything.

What do I gain?

My sister's custody.

I rest my head against the back of the couch.

I breathe out of spite.

A question pops into my brain.

-If I go see this shrink, will social services leave me alone?

No answer.

I look at the beautiful world through the high window of my shrink's office. The life on the street strikes me. I feel like I am alone against this suffocating city that is Manhattan.

I turn my head towards Serge, he swallows his saliva violently.

My jaw tightens.

I wait for his answer.

-Jack...

I stare into his big green eyes.

The bile rises to my throat.

I want his fucking answer...

-Please Serge, answer me!

I shouted, loudly, too loudly. The stress is on my face, I don't even try to hide it.

Serge blows loudly, so hard that the few strands of hair that fall on his forehead are agitated.

His soft voice of the day, finally reveals to me my greatest terror.

-They won't let you go but let's say they'll be more lax in some way.

I think.

Everything jostles in my head.

My past and my present are fighting a duel. I have to take the right path, this is Mabel we're talking about. She deserves the best.

I don't want to risk losing my princess.

I weigh the pros and cons.

My brain screams at me to accept but my soul screams at me to refuse.

My brain screams at me to move on but my soul screams at me to fight my demons.

The decision is quick to make. It has to be, no one can know. No one can know.

-In this case I accept.

His big green eyes round up.

Shock shows on his wrinkled face.

-Really?

A thin smile freezes on my pale face.

I suddenly feel lighter, as if my subconscious is assuring me that I have made the right choice, or at least the best one for me.

-Yes, Doc. I accept. I'm doing it for Mabel, just so we're clear!

A smile brightened his bearded face.

But his eyes have closed, I can't read them anymore.

I usually excel in this field, I read with great ease in his eyes but there I can not.

-Jackson, don't you want to treat yourself?

Jackson...He knows I hate being called that but he doesn't know the reason. Nobody knows the reason.

I gasp in frustration.

Damn, he's a pain, always the same question!

I usually yell at him but today I'm calming my anger.

He's retiring Jack, be nice.

I swallow my harsh words and answer him as calmly as possible, even if a hint of anger is heard.

-Listen Doc, I'm at the bottom of the hole, so today I don't give a damn!

He blows. He knows my answer. It's the same one I've had for five years.

But he doesn't retaliate, as if he's tired of fighting me all the time.

-All right, I'll contact her then!

Her?!

-She's a woman, the shrink?

A carnivorous smile appears on his lips.

This smile is a bad sign.

I've only seen that smile a few times, but I know exactly what it means.

-Yes. Her name is Elsa White. Does it bother you that she's a woman?

I shrug my eyebrows and shoulders.

No one can help me anyway. My life is too full of mistakes, injustice and pain.

-Pff...I don't care! I feel sorry for her, with a case like mine she will end up bald before the end of the session.

My little bit of humor makes my shrink laugh out loud.

Her deep voice fills the whole space of this small part of the office.

A thin smile appears on my beardless face.

-You're overreacting, Jack. Look at me, I still have all my hair!

I look at my shrink.

He is a man in his sixties. He is very tall with very broad shoulders. He has long red hair with the beginnings of a bald spot on top and above all what is atypical about this man is his long red beard.

He wears very simple and ample clothes but especially his mythical leather jacket of biker.

A real smile, the first one for a while comes to life.

-Yeah, let's say that, Doc. Your baldness takes over then!

Serge's big rough hand lands on my shoulder and shoves me in a friendly way.

An unpleasant shiver runs through me.

-That's mean Jack!

I put my hand on his and pull his away.

I don't like physical contact.

He gives me a slight nod of apology.

An uneasiness sets in.

I apologize.

-Sorry, Doc. I...it's the contact...I...well... No.

A sympathetic smile reveals his perfectly aligned teeth, but yellowed by the excess of tobacco.

-It's not you Jack. I know that, but you see, you're a bit like my son, like my Harold.

A warmth comes to life in me.

It touches me, very much so.

An ounce of nostalgia makes my heart beat. A distant memory appears.

I am alone in the middle of this crowd of sad people.

I can't really understand what's going on.

I am dressed all in black.

My parents are crying.

No one is looking at me, I am invisible.

My eyes rest on this big wooden frame. His picture is on it. He smiles.

He is dead now. I am alone now.

A warm, rough hand rests on my frail shoulder.

I turn around.

Two large green orbs probe me. A red beard swings before my eyes. I quickly find myself crying in the arms of this man.

-Thank you Serge, I'll miss you.

A sad smile freezes on his face.

It's the first time he's shown his feelings to me.

He is usually so professional.

I bow my head.

-Jack, it's the truth. And just because I'm retiring doesn't mean I'm giving up on my former patients.

That truth makes that feeling of abandonment that was building up inside me disappear.

-You're the only one I trust.

I am honest. He is the only one who knows my story, well, part of it. The rest nobody knows, I don't want to talk about it, it's too painful.

I don't want anyone to carry my pain, my sorrow and my torment.

-Oh, don't put the cart before the horse, my little Jack! I'm afraid when you see my replacement you'll change your mind about that!

I raise my eyebrows and look up as my psychologist hides a laugh in his beard.

-Why do you say that, Doc?

That toothy grin returns.

What does it mean?!

-I'll let you be surprised!

His answer surprises me and annoys me slightly.

I don't like surprises.

-Pff...as you wish.

Serge stands up.

He stretches his high and wide body.

-Well, it's time. Your last session with me is over.

I get up too.

I feel a slight twinge in my heart.

-Already! So here is your going-away present.

Her eyes round.

I don't like surprises, but I do like surprises enough.

I can see the surprise in her eyes.

-Oh thank you Jack! But you didn't have to!

I roll my eyes, everyone says that sentence, it doesn't really make sense anymore.

I wave my hand at him with a faint smile to encourage him to open his gift.

-I'm happy to do it. Come on, open it.

Her broad fingers meticulously peel off the red wrapping paper.

I follow with my eyes the gift paper flying to finally land on the ground.

A smile lights up his face.

-Oh! a box of chocolates and ... a drawing of Mabel. Thanks Jack.

His eyes light up at the sight of my little sister's drawing.

He rubs my hair lightly, like a child. This feeling of uneasiness in front of his affectionate gesture takes me back but I don't say anything, I don't want to hurt him.

-Yes, my sister also loves you very much.

He goes to his desk and puts my presents on it.

I follow with my eyes his slow and tender gestures.

-You will thank her for me Jack.

I raise my hand in agreement. When I notice that he can't see my gesture because his back is to me, I put words to my gesture.

-No problem.

I am about to leave the office, when I hear his footsteps coming towards me behind my back.

His hand gently squeezes my shoulder in a soft and delicate gesture. A shiver comes over me.

His deep voice, full of emotions, pierces my heart but I remain with my mask of impassivity.

-Good continuation Jack and come to see me when you want. You and Mabel of course!

I turn around and face the behemoth. I address him a last smile, false and light but a smile nevertheless.

-We'll come by for sure. Goodbye Doc.

I walk out the door, a spike in my heart.

And my heart on the edge of my lips.

-Yes. Goodbye Jack. Take care of yourself and little Mabel!

In the corridor, I shout my answer to him.

-As usual of course!

With a quick step I leave the doctor Haddock's office.

The hot air of the end of the summer welcomes me.

The sun is high in the sky.

My thoughts wander, as always.

I open my car and get inside.

A realization faces me, I am alone again.

Doctor Haddock is the only one who believes in me, who helps me.

He is the one who allowed me to get out of the water a little.

He is a little bit the father I don't have anymore.

But today I have to move on.

Mabel deserves happiness and I will fight for her to be the childhood I didn't have.

Monday, September 26.

"The day Jack goes to see Serge to talk about big things" as Mabel says. I wasn't going to tell her the truth though.

"I'm going to see Serge because people think I'm crazy and sick because I wanted to kill myself.

Seriously, I wanted to preserve what little innocence he had left.

Like every Monday for the last 5 years I have an appointment with the psychologist. And today I'm going to see the new shrink.

She is always an old lady with a perverse streak who will try to jump on me behind her desk. I use my strange sense of humor to relax myself because I am slightly stressed.

The truth is I'm a little scared.

Scared is not the right word, it would be more like worried.

Since they diagnosed me with this depression, the only one who has been able to help me is the Doc. He listened to me without asking me questions that I didn't want to answer. A great ally who helped me get through it.

But the road to recovery is long and I'm not sure I want to take it.

I have something else more serious to deal with first, I think I've always had this depression. I think I've always had this depression, well, since I was in high school for sure. I didn't have an exemplary adolescence, far from it. I did my share of stupid things. Big shit, really big shit.

- Come on Jack, you're gonna get a lot of it!

I nervously tap my foot against the asphalt on the ground.

I look down at my Camaro.

I can't think straight.

-Do you need money or what?!

I take my eyes off my car and put them on Jacob. A more than unhealthy smile crosses his face. My gaze passes over his tattoo.

His hand rests on my arm, I push it away with an elbow.

- You need it for your sister, right?

A thin smile takes life when I think of my princess.

-They're going to take away my custody if we get caught.

With a quick movement, Jacob gets off the bench.

-No risk, you know me Jack. And it's not the first time you've done it.

I inhale loudly.

I need money badly.

I get off the bench and slowly make my way to the car.

I pull my hood down over my face and shove my hands into the pockets of my dark jeans.

Jacob shouts at me from behind.

-That's the Jack I know, the one who saved me is my princess, Mabel. I cut the crap finally, I understand myself.When I got custody of her, she was only a year old. I raised her. She has only known me and I have only her. We are each other's last family. He is no longer part of our lives.

I don't work on Monday mornings, which allows me to come to the shrink's consultations, well the shrink. So I dropped Mabel off at school and here I am waiting in the waiting room of "Mrs. Elsa Idun White - Psychologist".

That's what it says on the plaque at the entrance.

My eyes observe the decor of the waiting room.

It is different from that of Dr. Haddock. It is fresher, young and feminine.

The brown carpet on the wall has been replaced by cream paint that brightens up this usually dark room. The old oak furniture was replaced by varnished cherry wood. A large flower pot brightens up the room. A composition of roses and foliage of all kinds.

A sweet and fruity smell reigns in this waiting room.

I leaf through a magazine on the coffee table.

I am as anxious as can be. I can't even remember the last time I felt like this.

Bile rises to my throat and my heart is tight.

I breathe heavily.

I'm uncomfortable. I have a violent urge to run away as if deep down I know that this interview will seal my fate.

But the worst thing in this waiting is the secretary who stares at me. She has been working here for many years but I have never seen her smile at me. But the most disturbing thing is that I can feel her gaze on me all the time, I have the impression that she is probing me, that she is analyzing me from all angles. In any case I am sure of one thing, it is that she does not like me.

Why is that?

I have no idea.

I have always been polite, smiling.

I'm always hiding behind this mask of false feelings. I hide every single one of my feelings. I protect myself. I protect myself from all these demons that every day a little more eats me up inside.

In front of this secretary, I always force myself.

Usually, I am not polite, smiling or even gallant.

I am rather withdrawn, silent and mysterious. But I don't like her condescending looks, I need to show her that I am better than her. I adopt a false behavior and this since always.

I get lost in my ideas.

The old lady's horrifying voice is heard.

-Mister Overland Frost.I cross the long corridor that leads to the chatting room, at least that's what I call it.This path reminds me a strange memory.

I put on the hood of my hoodie.

I am dressed all in black.

I hide myself.

I didn't want to come here but sometimes we don't always do what we want.

Long white locks fall on my forehead.

I hide every part of my face.

I do all this for her.

My steps guide me towards this long corridor with walls covered with a brown carpet.

My right hand comes timidly to knock against the door.

The stress is part of me.

The door opens on a smile hidden behind a long red beard.

The ball of stress rises in my throat.

I adopt my mask of feelings.

I knock on the door.

It opens.

The lump in my throat disintegrates.

The internal stupor takes its place.

A wide smile welcomes me warmly.

It is a young woman who opens the door.

She is platinum blonde, her hair gathered in a loose braid that falls over her left shoulder. She has very little make-up on. She wears rather simple clothes: a khaki green blouse, black jeans and sneakers.

Natural and beautiful at the same time.

She's just my kind of woman.

I am a man after all.

I observe her, it's rude but she is really beautiful and well done.

She cuts me off in my slightly tendentious thoughts, by holding out her hand, which I obviously shake.

Our clapped hands meet, a soft electric current runs through my skin.

Her sweet angelic voice titillates my hearing.

-Good morning Mr. Overland Frost.

-Good morning Doctor White.

She beckons me to sit down and then she sits down in turn.

An awkward blankness sets in.

She finally speaks.

-So Jackson, tell me about yourself!

I freeze up.

He used to call me "Jackson" all the time.

-I'd rather you call me Jack if you don't mind.

She frowns noticeably.

She starts writing on her blog note.

I don't like that.

-I don't like it. As you wish.

I observe her. She is very professional although I think she is very young to be a shrink.

-What do you want to know about me?

I don't beat around the bush.

I'm not comfortable with this interview.

I want this to stop as soon as possible.

-I'd like to start at the beginning. After that, it's you who speaks, not me.

His answer surprises me.

I did not expect this answer.

I was expecting more of a question and answer interview.

But I'm not going to complain.

I gasp inwardly. I feel like I'm destroying everything I did with Doc Haddock. I feel like I'm starting all over again. I'm not ready to relive everything I've been through.

So I play it pretentious and ignorant.

-Okay then, my name is Jackson Overland Frost, I'm 25 years old and I'm depressed and more, according to the doctors I'm in "severe" depression.

I emphasize the word "severe" by mimicking quotation marks with my hands.

His fingers run over the small pad of paper balanced on his lap.

I look around the room.

The light is more present than before. The old purple armchair has been replaced by two large black leather chairs. A small glass coffee table separates us. A large vase filled with yellow roses, similar to the one in the waiting room, is placed on it. A small desk is in one corner of the room and a small reception area with large ottomans is set up facing the large window that gives a beautiful view of Manhattan.

I feel strangely more and more comfortable in the chat room.

A little background music subconsciously makes all the stress disappear from my shoulders.

I let myself be lulled by the sound of the piano.

The sound of the pen against the paper stops.

I open my eyes that I had unconsciously closed to enjoy the rocking music.

Elsa observes me with a smile on her lips.

I sink into the seat.

The young woman in front of me clears her throat as if to regain composure.

-Excuse me for saying this but I already know that. What I wanted to know is the circumstances that made you depressed.

She remains polite. I know it's all written down on her papers. In that file that the Doc always kept. I know underneath everything she wants me to say.

It all pisses me off. I have nothing against her, but I feel like I'm going back five years. I've fought too hard against my past and my demons to start all over again.

I'm almost getting mean.

-Ah, right! You should have said that earlier!

My jaw is clenched.

I tap my foot angrily on the floor. I am nervous and the little background music does not calm my nervousness anymore.

The shrink scratches angrily at the paper. The sheet fills up. The words scroll by at the end of her pen.

With one hand she writes and with the other she tirelessly wraps a lock of her light hair around her slender fingers.

-Yes, you're right, I'm sorry. She's still as polite as ever, although I sense a hint of stress in her voice.

-Yeah...

I don't want to go on. I want to go away. I want to get away from here. I want to start over. I want to have my "Mea Culpa" too.

I tear off the little skins around my nails. I look up at this young platinum blonde woman who is my therapist. Her gaze expresses only one thing: curiosity.

-Are you going to talk one day?

I close my eyes. I take a deep breath.

This shrink may be a hottie, but she's got to be a kicker.

-How do I look?!

She blushes violently and then regains her composure.

She looks into my eyes, a shiver runs down my spine.

-I'll be honest with you. I don't find you depressed. You seem to me to be a very normal young man for your age. I don't really understand what you're doing here.

Is she making fun of me?

I hide myself more under this mask of feelings that I have built to protect myself. I ask the question that is burning in my mind.

-Didn't you read my file or what?

A thin smile is on his lips.

-I never read my patients' files before our first meeting.

Did I get that right?

-Why not?

A faint chuckle appears on her luscious lips.

-Because I want them to tell me their story. So I can make up my own mind about it.

Her sentence finishes the puzzle that is our first meeting.

-So if I read between the lines you're asking me to tell you my story. Is that it?

-Indeed that's what I'm asking you.

Oh...

-Don't you think there's something physically wrong with me?

Her eyes are rounding. His ocean eyes roam hungrily over my anatomy.

Hot flashes make their appearance.

Damn! She makes me a crazy effect.

-Uh...No you're not.

Is she nearsighted or what?!

-And a guy with white hair at 25 years old is normal for you?

A soft laugh escapes from between her lips.

-Oh! That! It's not very weird, I've seen worse.

I raise my eyebrows.

-Ah...is it?!

His smile widens.

- It's obvious!

My curiosity is piqued.

-Like what?

His laughter fills the room and my heart.

-That's a professional secret, Mr. Overland Frost.

-Of course it is.

We stare at each other. I have the impression that she can read me and this sensation is very unpleasant.

With a wave of her hand, she beats the air to change the subject.

-Let's go back to our main subject: you!

A totally fake laugh comes out of my mouth.

-I don't like being put in the center of attention.

-I understand that, but you come to my office to talk about yourself.

At the shrink's remark, I raise my eyebrows.

-Damn it.

A forced laugh distorts her face.

-Very spiritual! So you come here to talk about yourself, so let's talk about you.

A sigh of displeasure evaporates from my mouth.

-If it were me, I wouldn't come. I'm doing this for Mabel.

Her eyes are filled with a feeling I quickly detected in her: curiosity.

-Who is Mabel?

An unhealthy grin freezes on my face.

-She is my goldfish!

For the umpteenth time in two hours, her eyebrows go up.

-Seriously?!

I put on a fake gloomy face.

I'm a master of the art of fake feelings.

-She's dead, my cat has made her 4 o'clock. Oh, my God, what a cruel world! Why did you take away my beloved goldfish that I loved so much?

A sketch of a smile widened on his face.

And a real smile, almost invisible but there, is drawn on my lips.

-Are you trying to be funny?

His impenetrable eyes scrutinize me. A wink. A masculine ardor comes to life in me.

-Wasn't that funny?

-And you're making fun of me too, but I'm dreaming!

I give him a thin smile.

I finally open up, so to speak.

-Oh that's okay! If you want to know everything, Mabel, she is my little sister.

Her pen finds the paper.

I immediately regret having dropped this information.

-Okay. How old is she?

His hand is busy transcribing my words.

I answer her questions reluctantly.

-Curious?

I arch an eyebrow.

-Very!

I gasp loudly, while his eyes watch me again and again.

I drop the info.

-She is six years old.

His pen frantically clatters on his notepad as a tender smile stretches his lips.

-Are you close?

I rest my elbows on my knees. I scratch the back of my head before answering.

-Oh, very close! I tend to overprotect her.

She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.

She continues her questioning.

-Why? I raise my eyebrows.

I raise my eyebrows as I look into her darker eyes.

-It's obvious you haven't read my file.

Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she nibbles on the end of her pen.

-Light up my light then!

Despite myself, her reply makes me smile slightly.

-I am her tutor.

The sparkle in her eyes evaporates instantly.

She frowns.

-Your parents are...

Her voice is filled with unbridled emotion.

I frown as I crack my jaw, clenching to its fullest.

-No, well not both. My father broke and my mother died five years ago.

Her pen is still scratching paper.

She raises her sorry eyes to me.

- I am truly sorry.

I put my hand in the air to show that I don't care, that we've forgotten this lack of tact on her part.

-Is the trigger for your depression the death of your mother?

I freeze up. Painful memories flash before my eyes. A powerful pain in my chest is felt.

I sit up quickly. I close in on myself and grit my teeth.

-I don't want to talk about it anymore.

The sound of the pen stops. I guess his eyes on me as mine stare at my feet.

-Please, Jack. Talk to me, you've said too much.

I clench my fists.

Memories flood through me. I fight an internal battle with my demons.

-I told you I don't want to talk about it anymore! Do not insist.

I don't look at her anymore.

I hear her put the pen and pad on the coffee table.

-Okay anyway, it's time.

I get up quickly and head for the door.

I don't even look at it.

My demons leave me little by little.

-I say goodbye.

I hear embarrassment and sadness in her voice when she answers me.

-Goodbye Jack, see you next Monday.

We hold hands and I leave the chat room.

The door slams behind my back. I walk quickly and head down the long hallway.

I do not address a glance to the secretary, I enter the elevator and leave the building.

I quickly reach my car. My nerves are on edge.

This interview was special. Intriguing, annoying and just... alive.

My brain is bubbling.

At one point I felt almost at ease with this young stranger with dreamy curves.

I drive and think.

I take the road to my work,

Strangely, I'm looking forward to next Monday.

This shrink annoys me with her intrusive questions but at the same time I feel different with her. I have the bitter impression that she can bring me something.