“If we’ve got time?”
“Sure. We can review them while we talk.”
It’s a lot. There are some things that are simple or self-explanatory, but there’s even more that I don’t understand. Then Dr. Taylor says, “So are you out to your sister?”
“Oh, um …” I flip through the next page and read briefly over what it says, sign my initials where Dr. Taylor tells me it’s needed.
“We don’t have to talk about it.”
I try to breathe. “I mean, I’m out. To her. And to Thomas. I sort of had to be, didn’t I?” I try to laugh, but even to my own ears it sounds forced.
“Are you comfortable with that?”
“I have to be, don’t I?”
“No. Of course, circumstances were out of your hands. I know in this scenario, telling them why you’d been forced out of your home was the easiest option, and maybe the only one. But that doesn’t mean you have to like it.”
“They’re trying. Hannah and Thomas correct themselves when they use the wrong pronouns.”
“That’s good. And what about at school? Are you adjusting easily?”
“I mean, it’s school. I’m not out, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Uh-huh.” Dr. Taylor clicks her pen and adds that to her notes. “Do you want to talk about that?”
“Nothing to really talk about.”
“You think so?”
“Doesn’t exactly feel safe.”
“That’s a fair point.” There’s this shine in her eyes, and I expect her to fight me on that, but she doesn’t.
“But?” I say.
“No ‘but.’ Have you met anyone at your new school? Any new friends?”
“No.”
“Really? That’s a shame. No one at all?”
“No,” I repeat. “No one.” We’ve reached the last of the forms. I read over it quickly before I sign my name. Dr. Taylor flips through all of them one more time before she gathers them all up.
“Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?”
“Like?”
She shrugs. “Anything you feel that may help me know you better. Or anything specific you’ve been dealing with?”
“I don’t think so.” There’s Mariam, but that feels like a private thing, something I don’t need to share here. Not right now, at least.
“Okay.” Dr. Taylor stands up, tossing her notepad on her desk.
“Okay?” My eyes follow her all the way to her desk. “Is that all?”
“For today.” She slides open a drawer and grabs a small pamphlet. “I’d like to keep seeing you, Ben, if you want to, that is. But I also have something here.” She holds the paper out for me to take.
“What is it?” I flip it over in my hands, reading the header, which is in bright multicolored letters.
“It’s a support group for kids on the LGBTQIAP+ spectrum.”
I open my mouth to speak, but she sticks up a finger to silence me. “I know, but not all the members use ‘queer’ to identify with. I’d like you to think about attending. It’s mostly young adults and teens. I really think it could help.
“They usually meet every other Friday around six thirty. Just think about it.” I eye the pamphlet, reading the contact information and address for the meeting on the back. “Would you be open to seeing me again?”
I consider it for a second. I mean, I don’t really feel any better, but am I supposed to after just one meeting? I really just sort of want to go home, crawl into bed, and wait for tomorrow. “I guess.”
“You don’t have to,” she adds.
“I can meet again,” I say. That’s probably what Hannah wants.
“We’ll try for next Thursday, okay? I’m free in the afternoons, and that way you don’t have to keep missing school.”
I stand up, folding the pamphlet to slip it into my back pocket, knowing I won’t be going to this support group thing. If I could hardly face coming out here, how am I supposed to come out to a room full of strangers?
“I’d also like to talk with Hannah briefly, if that’s okay.” Dr. Taylor eyes me.
“Why?”
“I’m not telling her anything we haven’t agreed to. I just want to make sure she understands everything, if she has any questions.”
“Oh, okay.”
“So you’re comfortable with that?”
Not really, but maybe it would be easier for Dr. Taylor to handle this instead of Hannah grilling me in the car ride back home. Dr. Taylor pokes her head out the door and says something, Hannah trailing in right behind her.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Just fine,” Dr. Taylor says. “I just wanted to talk about a few things regarding Ben’s appointments.”
“Okay.”
“Ben and I will meet on Thursday; every other week should suffice unless Ben tells me they want to change the frequency of the appointments.” Dr. Taylor says this about as straightforward as I can imagine someone can. “I’ll be communicating with them directly and won’t be sharing any information unless Ben signs a release form.”
“Oh” is all Hannah says, and I can’t look at her right now. I wonder how it feels, having the woman you’re paying to treat the sibling you just took in tell you that you don’t have a right to know anything that goes on in here.
“I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to discuss any details about their appointments besides when they will occur.”
“No,” Hannah says. “I mean, yeah, of course. No, I totally understand.” She seems a little jumpy. Maybe from the knife I just stabbed her in the back with. “Was there anything else you needed to talk to me about?”
Dr. Taylor looks my way. “Ben?”
“I’m done.”
“All right, I’ll see you next Thursday.” The last thing Dr. Taylor does is grab a small card from her desk. “Here’s the contact information for the office, just call if you need to change the times.”
I tuck the card in alongside the brochure.
“Thank you, Dr. Taylor.” Hannah and Dr. Taylor shake hands. “You ready to go?”
I nod and eye the clock on the wall. It’s only one in the afternoon, but it feels later than that.
“Want to stop and get some lunch?”
My stomach lurches, totally empty, but I shake my head. I don’t think I have it in me to keep food down right now.
“Interesting.” Mrs. Liu eyes the painting, and I’m trying not to feel self-conscious. A task I’m failing at miserably. “I like the empty space here, and the choice of colors, especially the dark blues. What made you pick that?”
I just picked blue because I like blue. Isn’t sky supposed to be bluish anyway? “It felt right,” I say instead. I don’t think my other answer will win me many points. Mrs. Liu is an interesting teacher, to say the least. Over the last two weeks, she’s been circling over me like a hawk while I work, even if it was just a sketch. So far she’s had me at the wheel making this hideous clay pot. And before that, she gave me a bag full of wire clothes hangers and told me to make something out of them.