All in my Mind

XIV.

Waking up in the morning is bullshit. When you wake up in the morning like a normal person, you're expected to get up. You're expected to do things. You're expected to be going places and accomplishing tasks.

"I'm done taking meds before bed," I informed O'Conner. She was staring back at me from across the coffee table with a look of pure interest. I wanted to hit her. Not really. "You shouldn't have changed it without asking me. Change it back."

"Are you genuinely asking me to change it?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" I demanded in escalation. Unnecessary escalation, mind you. "Of course I'm asking."

"Are you sure?" she asked me casually. "Sometimes you..." she trailed off and raised her eyebrows at me in what I assumed was a suggestive gesture.

"What?" I spat. "Sometimes I what?"

"Well," she began with a little shrug. "I think we both know that sometimes you just say things to try and get a reaction out of people. I'm not judging you, I just don't want to mistakenly act on something like that."

I narrowed my eyes, but didn't respond. She had a point, obviously. Not one I wanted to hear.

"So you're saying you don't take me seriously," I attempted argumentatively.

She smirked a little and sat up more. Her expression informed me she was finding this endearing.

"I always take you seriously, Alex," she said directly. "That much I can promise you, but taking you seriously also means knowing the nuances of your communication style. To be clear, I enjoy these exchanges with you a lot."

She added that last bit like she was only halfheartedly attempting to appease me. The rest was surely meant to sound just as ridiculous as I perceived it to be.

"I don't enjoy them at all," I said with an unfriendly directed gaze.

"I know," she agreed with a nod. "I totally respect that."

I looked down at the desk between us to conceal what tiny semblance of a smirk that comment elicited out of me. I don't want to say that I like O'Conner because sheer stubborn willpower prevents something like that, but she definitely knows my buttons. She'd gathered them quickly in our few times together. How many times had we actually met at this point? I bet the notes in my file were just incredibly detailed.

The tabletop wasn't empty by the way. That healthy flower pot was always there on the corner of it. There was a napkin sitting near the edge right infront of me too. It had 27 goldfish crackers sitting on it. I'd eaten 5 of them. She'd just had them sitting there when I arrived. At first I'd imagined them rising up to swim around the table, but that had truly lasted only seconds. I was choosing to consider them a bribe of sorts.

"Fun fact," I said, to derail the conversation. I used my hands to shape the word, and it actually didn't hurt that badly for once. "One of the oldest fish species in existence is the lamprey. They're 360 million years old at least. Older than people and the ice age and even dinosaurs."

O'Conner's lips tipped upwards, like she also couldn't quite contain some level of a smile for me. It was like she wasn't even trying that hard to be subtle.

"That's very interesting," she told me. "Do you know a lot of facts about fish?"

"Tons," I answered.

"Do you want to tell me some?" She asked.

"No," I said pointedly. Then I frowned for effect before continuing to deliver my own brilliance unto her. "I'm way too upset about the lamprey now. Can you imagine surviving for 360 million years just for humans to put you into an extinction in like less than 3 million? It's upsetting."