Monsters 06: Mend

Since you canceled our session for today, I had nothing to do. I wondered, why during our last meeting, you didn’t ask about what I had said. But I guess, considering I couldn’t see you until next week, the explanation would have to wait.

With a free day, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. Usually I was up early, getting ready to come to your office. I thought about what you said about mending. I couldn’t fix things with my mother since she was gone, and even if she were alive, I’m not sure she would want to see me. I was nothing more than a burden to her.

I thought about going down to the college and just sitting around to make myself look busy. But then I figured I shouldn’t go if I didn’t have to. I’d figured out that sitting with strangers was more comforting than sitting alone; at least I had people to talk to, if I wanted.

Generally, and as a rule, in school, I kept to myself. That was true for high school, and even more so in college. I talked when there was something interesting to discuss, otherwise I kept quiet. I noticed a majority of people did the same thing; unless you were spoken to first, there was no reason to speak up and ruin a potentially good conversation.

After fixing a relatively strong cup of coffee, I grabbed my keys from the kitchen table and left the house. I crossed the semi-dead lawn to the driveway and went around to the driver’s side of my black Nissan. Once I was inside, I shut the door, and placed the key in the ignition.

I didn’t turn the car on, just sat in it for a few minutes, contemplating. When I’d made my decision, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through the contacts. I found the one I was looking for and pressed the SEND button.

A voice, gruff and familiar, answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” I said. My hand shook as I held the phone.

“Who?” the man replied. He sounded tired. Then his brain seemed to formulate a clear and correct reply. “Oh my God. Quinn, is that you?”

I shut my eyes, feeling the start of hot tears building behind them, and pressed a hand to my face. Then I took a deep breath and opened my mouth, my lips quivering as I spoke.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice raspy. “Yeah, Dad, it’s me.”

There was something for your notepad, then, Doc.