Seeing Shane Gray ✓

forty four | family

December 5

*.*.*.*.*.*

Mom takes the day off work and I don't go to school. Instead of parting ways again and heading off to our own destinations, we instead get in one car and head on the same path after over a year. Mom drives and Dad sits in the passenger seat, having finally shaved and put on one of his good suits. I sit in the back, knotting my hands together and hoping this will end well.

The therapist Mom got an appointment with seems nice enough, his eyes kind and smile genuine. His posture is professional as he sits before us in his cushioned arm-chair. He asks us to sit, nodding courteously at each of us. I look at Mom and Dad who sit side by side and I follow them, taking the last seat of the couch.

As the man introduces himself and talks about some ethical obligations that I don't care much for, I take in his small but cozy room. It isn't how I imagined a shrink's office to be. I'd expected a vacant-looking, sparkly-clean office in achromatic shades. What I see, though, is woody furniture and shelves lined with books. On one of the racks, I see several toys and children's books. It's clear family therapy is the man's specialty.

"Taylor, would you like to tell me your goal for coming to therapy?"

I blink when the man's voice reaches me. Turning to look at him, I'm vaguely aware of my parents watching me. I clear my throat and shift in my seat.

"Well, I ..." I glance at Mom and Dad. "I want to reach a point where we can communicate easily."

"Would you like to explain what you mean by that?" the man asks, writing something on his notepad. "What does easy communication look like to you?"

I swallow. "Well, I just ... every time I try to talk to them, I feel like something holds me back. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the feeling that they won't hear me or they won't understand. Or maybe it's just me and my desire that they would reach out first."

The man who introduced himself as Dr. Brink asks me a few more questions before summarizing the entire discussion back to me.

"Okay, what I understand then, and correct me if I'm wrong --" He smiles at me. "Is that you want to be able to convey your concerns to your parents without experiencing any negative feelings, and you want them to return those sentiments. We will discuss the reasons for these feelings and behaviors in a while, but this is what you hope you achieve from our weekly sessions here. Is that correct?"

"Yeah." I nod, clearing my throat.

He smiles. "Anything you would like to add before I move on to your parents?"

I shake my head. The man smiles once more and turns to my Dad. Even though I hadn't expected it, I feel my insides slowly unraveling. My stomach had been twisted into a knot at the prospect of seeing a family counselor. Being here with my parents, though, sitting in front of this man whose brown eyes are kind and smile understanding, I feel more at ease than I had anticipated.

What makes me feel better is that even my dad seems to respond to his style. When he asks a question, dad answers, giving as much detail as the man pulls out of him. It's like he's got the knack of even getting people like my dad to open up.

By the end of the one-hour-forty-minute session, we're all more relaxed and hopeful that this idea will probably yield positive outcomes.

As for me, I learn that my dad lost his job three months ago and has been working odd jobs so we won't find out. As Dr. Brink helps us discover, dad didn't want us to feel disappointed when we heard about him being laid off. Even his staying out late was caused by him driving a rented cab some nights and working at a carwash the others. Turns out he wasn't asked by his father to return to his home country but decided to do that before we're completely bankrupt and homeless.