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marnie
Once my dad found out about the scandal, he insisted on me talking to him, or at least that's what he called it.
I think at first he genuinely was wanting to know about my relationship. He had only met Dean enough times to count on one hand, and those interactions were very brief.
To be honest, we had never really talked about my friendships or relationships at all.
It always felt like a mother's role, and my dad never accepted that.
He was a provider, not a nurturer. Which was even worse because he has a daughter, not a son
Though as time went on, it started to feel like he was prying to know every single notion, every high and low of my relationship's repertoire. And it got increasingly annoying. So after a while I just stopped talking to him, and I spent most of my time when we happened to both be at home, in my room.
I honestly think he thought I was going to throw myself off the edge of my balcony because of the paparazzi and the heartache, and if I wouldn't talk to him then maybe I would talk to a shrink.
I had only ever had a therapist once before, when my mom was put away. That time was so foggy in my life, sometimes I don't even remember the key details of that time in my life. When I was younger I had so many nannies that at times, I forgot I even had a mother
I don't know if it was because I was so young, or if I really was out of touch with my emotions, but I usually just spent the hour with them in silence and eating the free snacks.
After a while my dad stopped taking me, I think he realized he was just paying two hundred dollars an hour for a babysitter. He would ask me what we talked about, and I genuinely had no answer for him.
My sessions were every Tuesday at 4 o'clock, right after school. I usually had to leave school right at the bell to make it on time, if I skipped my appointment then my dad claimed I wouldn't receive my allowance for the week, I didn't feel like calling his bluff so I complied.
The therapist's name was Dr. Kane, and for the most part he was pretty tolerable.
He wasn't exactly the warm and fuzzy type, but he wasn't cold either. I honestly think what bothers me the most about him is how he always wants me to "elaborate" on my answers like I have a secret meaning behind them.
He was Middle Eastern with dark brown hair that was slightly curly at the ends and always gelled back. He had extremely tan skin (or as tan as you can be for New York), and he always wore grey suits and dark rimmed glasses.
Although he's technically a child's therapist, his office is straight out of Fifty Shades of Grey, the color pallets consisted of white, grey, and black. As someone who is older this didn't really bother me, as my house was similar, but I imagine as a ten year old, this would definitely put me to sleep or make me go insane.
"Marnie. Marnie? Are you there?" Dr. Kane asks me waving his pen in my direction. This unfortunately knocks me out of my distractive state.
"Yeah, I'm paying attention. Could you just repeat that last part of what you said?" I asked dryly while trying to circle my brain back to reality.
"I said, sometimes it is better to hear someone out, even if it is not what you want to hear. Hearing how Dean feels could help you understand why he did what he did" he says while writing something on his notebook. For a moment he looks up at me and pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, then goes back to writing. "This possibility could help you navigate your own emotions as well."
He always had this black notebook with him. I don't know what he wrote in it, maybe my answers? I tried to bend over and see but it was propped up on his knee and his legs were crossed, skewing my view.
"Everyone keeps telling me that, but it is so much harder to say when you aren't the one who is experiencing it. You don't have to deal the with gossip about you behind your back or everyone breathing down your neck all the time." I say.
By this time I'm staring out of the window of his office. We're fourth three floors up, and to be honest, the view was most exciting part of this entire experience at this point.
"You'd be surprised, I've gone through quite a bit as well with relationships. But how long do you plan on ignoring him? Days, weeks, even months?" He asks me, looking up from his notebook. I notice he isn't wearing a wedding ring.
"I plan on riding this out for as long as I can" I say breathlessly, I'm over this now.
"That is not healthy Marnie, I think you're forgetting that this is just as much about him as it is you. The situation involves the both of you, and for growth purposes, this eventually will need to come to a head" he says.
"Well until then, he can fuck off" I say under my breath. I look down at my Cartier watch and realize it is 5:01 pm, which means my session is officially over. I grab my purse and my phone and start to get up.
"Marnie, if you want to really make progress here, then you have to be able to open up to me. We've had three sessions already and it still feels like you're very surface level with me" he says also standing up. He's at least six feet tall. "Progress cannot be made without effort on both fronts."
"I'm only here because I have to be, I don't need to talk to anyone or explain why I do what I do" I say fully getting up and exiting the office.
As much as I want to admit this was all in my control, I still had a party to plan and the Alexanders had RSVP'd that morning.
This might be coming to a head much faster then I had anticipated.
