Caught Up In You Read Online Free Page B

generic and based off nothing authentic at all. Any
pictures or things they have in their office are placed there for a reason, they
aren’t stupid enough to leave anything out that they don’t want you to see.
    Eric even went as far as to tell me that
some of the pictures they put in their offices are fake, not their real
children or family or whatever. Supposedly they do it for security reasons, like
in case anyone cracks up and decides to go after their family or something.
Which is exactly why I would never be a therapist. I mean, I’m sure most people
are perfectly normal, but what about that rare occasion that you get a real
crazy one or something? No, thank you.
    Besides, I couldn’t figure out anything
about this therapist from her waiting room, even if I wanted to. The walls are
solid white with a brown trim. There’s no windows or anything, yet somehow the
lights on the ceiling make the room overwhelmingly bright. There are two black
sofas on either side of the room with a simple brown table separating them. No
magazines or anything, just a few pamphlets. There’s also a little stand with the
therapist’s business cards for anyone who wants to take one.
    Now that I think about it the room doesn’t
really go together very well. In fact, it doesn’t match at all. I mean, isn’t
it a huge no to mix black and brown together these days? Or is that whole thing
over with? Did it somehow become okay again to mix black and brown together and
I wasn’t notified? Probably happened when I was off serving my time in prison. Well,
it would have been nice if someone told me. I mean, honestly, it would change my
whole outlook on my wardrobe. That would give me way more options. Not that
I’ve took much pride in how I look these days, but whatever.
      Unless, oh god. Was this some sort of test? Maybe I was
supposed to notice the room didn’t match and mention it right away, maybe it had
a deeper meaning or something. Or was it not a test at all and if I mentioned
it I would look really crazy right away?
    See, see how going to a therapist does
nothing but makes you over analyze? It can drive a sane person to go crazy.
    The door to the office opens and a small
woman looks down at me from under her glasses. She calls my name and smiles,
revealing red lipstick stained teeth.
    My aunt squeezes my leg reassuringly. I
force myself to shoot her a half smile before I get up and follow the secretary
to my fate.
    Whatever that is.
    ***
    My new therapist doesn’t get up to great
me when I walk into her office. In fact, she barely acts like she notices me at
all. Instead, she just keeps chatting away on her cell phone, as if nothing has
changed. It’s awkward. There’s a couch and a few chairs lining the room, but
I’m not sure where to sit, or what to do.   At the wellness center there was only one couch in Dr. Morgan’s office
so I didn’t really have a choice about where I sat. But to be honest it kind of
made me feel uncomfortable, like I was about to be examined at any moment or
something.
    So anyway, I decide to just kind of stand
in the doorway waiting for some type of direction, or for any sign on where I’m
supposed to go or what I’m supposed to do. Only one never comes, instead she
just keeps chatting and laughing away. I’m not sure who she’s talking on the phone with, but from the sounds of it it’s her friend or
something. I’m too freaked out and to busy over thinking to pay much attention
but I’m pretty sure I hear her say something about her mother-in-law moving in
with them for a while until she gets back on her feet. And how she doesn’t care
what her husband says there is no way she’s forcing her meat loaf down for
another night, no way in hell. Yikes.
    Finally, I get the hint that I’m pretty
much on my own and decide on one of the chairs. I mean, as long as there’s no
direction I might as well do what I want. Hopefully she won’t tell me to move
when she’s finally done having her little