Therapy on a Cold Day

                Charlie rested his chin in the crook of his arm as he leaned on the window ledge. He watched as melting snow dripped slowly down the window in a pointless race to the sill. He looked out at the gray November morning. The day had hardly begun and he was already feeling sad. He had spent most of the session staring out the window.

“How do you talk about the un-talk-about-able,” asked Charlie finally.

“What do you mean,” asked Charlie’s therapist, “you know there’s nothing we can’t talk about right?”

Charlie pressed his index finger against the glass window and traced the path of a descending water droplet. The glass was slightly cold. Charlie felt the chilly numbness in the tip of his finger. He pulled away from the window. He turned in his lounger chair and faced Dr. Applebaum.

“Yeah, I mean, sure, we can talk about anything, but what about the things we’re not supposed to talk about,” said Charlie.

“Charlie, really, there’s nothing we can’t talk about at all. Everything is fair game. I’m not here to judge you or tell you if what you’re thinking is right or wrong. I’m just here to help you get to the core of what’s troubling you,” said Dr. Applebaum.

Charlie looked around Dr. Applebaum’s office. There was a single motivational poster on the wall featuring a humpback whale cresting through the ocean in a flurry of white foam. The motivational phrase didn’t seem to relate to the picture of the whale. It was some claptrap about achievement or over-coming adversity. Charlie didn’t care for it. Dr. Applebaum had multiple certifications and degrees framed on the walls. There was one slowly withering house plant in the corner that had obviously been neglected for a few weeks. There was a little dust on the bookshelves Charlie could easily see.

“I’ll tell you Doc, there’s a lot troubling me, but I don’t really think it has anything to do with me,” said Charlie.

“How so,” asked Dr. Applebaum.

“Well, the world seems mad Doc. Like, no matter what I do, with good intentions, love in my heart and sympathy in my soul, and doing what I’m told, the world keeps trying to kill itself, along with all the people in it. How do we talk about that,” asked Charlie.

“Those are pretty large-scale problems for sure. The world is indeed a complicated place, but perhaps we can try and bring this down to a more, individual perspective,” said Dr. Applebaum.

Charlie nodded absently. He had already decided that this was dumb. Charlie didn’t feel depressed. He was sad. There was a big difference in his mind about the two things.

“Yes, big problems for sure,” said Charlie, “the whole thing though, the whole mess of the world, the people, politics, this hatred under the skin, the lack of togetherness, it’s all just too much for me to bare and honestly doc, it’s bumming me out.”

Dr. Applebaum flipped to the front page of Charlie’s medical file folder. He tapped at one of the forms with the tip of his ball-point pen.

“Charlie,” said Dr. Applebaum, “I understand that you’re upset about it all. What really has me concerned is that you’re eight years old and you’re having some, very mature thoughts. Thoughts fairly unexpected for an eight-year-old. Do you see why that might be a point of concern for your parents?”

Charlie folded his arms across his small chest and looked back at Dr. Applebaum. Dr. Applebaum was looking back at Charlie over the rims of his reading glasses. They stared at each other for a long while until Charlie finally spoke.

“I’m a really smart kid,” said Charlie, “I know my parents are worried and maybe it’s their fault for raising such a smart and emotionally aware kid. Maybe it’s all their fault. I mean, I didn’t make this world that is bothering me so much. They did, my grand parents did. Heck Doc, even you made this world and I’m here, struggling with the consequences.”

Dr. Applebaum sat back in his own chair.

“See, these are the things that are un-talk-about-able,” said Charlie, “The fact that I’m just a kid and I’m smart and I’m aware and I read the news but there’s no one, absolutely know one that can relate to me, to talk about any of it. It’s un-talk-about-able.”

“I don’t believe that Charlie,” said Dr. Applebaum, “we can absolutely talk about it. Is that what you’d really like?”

Charlie wanted to leave this small room. Dr. Applebaum could never understand. His parents in the waiting room outside would never understand.

“I’m eight doc. There’s nothing I can do to fix it,” said Charlie. “I’m trapped in this small world, this small body, I hate playing soccer which my dad makes me do; I’m running from bullies at school, being called a nerd, afraid of girls but I really like them, and hoping that someone doesn’t barge into my school and start shooting everybody because they are crazy or depressed or sick on medications. It’s making me really sad doctor. What does that have to do with me? Isn’t that everybody else? Why isn’t anybody doing anything?”

Dr. Applebaum scratched his nose. Charlie saw he had some long gray nose hairs. Charlie wished Dr. Applebaum would trim his nose hairs.

“Charlie, you are an amazing young man,” said Dr. Applebaum, “I’ve have provided years of treatment for some patients that haven’t come close to your level of maturity. You’re right. You’re eight and you have little control over where life takes you. You are at the whims of terror far greater than I ever had to deal with as an eight-year-old. I never had to worry about shootings or terrorism or any of that stuff. Well, maybe the communists, but even that was so far-fetched. But none of it is un-talk-about-able. I hope you and I can talk more about it but unfortunately, that’s our time today.”

Dr. Applebaum stood from his leathery worn chair and reached out to shake Charlie’s hand. Charlie stood up. Politely shook the doctor’s hand.

“Charlie, please send your parents in please and we’ll see you next week,” said Dr. Applebaum.

Charlie nodded and exited Dr. Applebaum’s office into the waiting room. His mother looked up at him with wet, teary eyes and his father barely looked at him at all.

“He wants to see you,” said Charlie.

His parents stood up from their chairs and walked toward Dr. Applebaum’s office and closed the door behind them.