[charlieglasgow]

"Sure I wouldn't."

"So it's possible that I've killed someone, you think?"

Sandy shrugged and sighed. "I guess. I won't call you a murderer, but I think we've all had a chance to do it."

"And yet you're still talking to me."

"Yeah. Why shouldn't I be?"

"Because I could be a murderer."

"And?"

"Oh yeah. You're getting paid to."

"Well, yes, I am paid to talk to you. That's a very small part of the equation. You know that. This job isn't made, though, for people who hate their careers."

"So you like talking to me."

"Of course."

"Even though we aren't getting anywhere?"

"The speed is up to you, not me."

Ryan sighed, and his mind kept going back to what he would never say. He leaned back on the couch, wrapped his arms around his stomach again.

"What are you thinking?" Sandy took a sip from the cup of coffee that had been at his desk. Ryan shook his head, and kept silent for a few more minutes.

"I was, like, five, and my mom wasn't listening to me."

Sandy waited.

"She was talking to my dad, and in retrospect I guess they were fighting. I couldn't tell. So, I tried to get her attention. She kept ignoring me."

Sandy just nodded, leaning forward with his arms crossed and watching him.

" I called her name a few times and then she kept ignoring me, so I pushed myself against her. Like, rammed her."

"Yeah?"


Ryan's eyes overflowed, and he couldn't stop the tears from coming down, so he put his rested his arms on his knees and put his head in his hands. It was overwhelming; he hadn't cried in years and now every emotion he felt at the moment was just overwhelming him. He didn't like this; it was out of control and he had to stop it. He wiped his eyes off, but the tears just came down again.
"Damnit." He cursed, frustrated that his body wouldn't follow his commands.
"Stop fighting it, Ryan."
Ryan looked up at him, then back down as he buried his head in his hands.
"What is wrong with crying?"
"It's so ****ing WEAK!" Ryan didn't mean to yell, but it came out that way as the tears kept going and he completely lost his composure.
Sandy turned and retrieved a box of tissues, handing it to him.
Ryan took a couple, then put the tissues on the floor. "I haven't cried since I was, like, eight."
Finally, he wiped his eyes and leaned back, regaining his breath.
"How was it? This last time?"
"Painful."
"We were talking about the interaction with your mom," Sandy dug.
"I pushed her, and she fell, alright? She fell down and hit her head on the cabinet. She broke her wrist."
"Besides the broken wrist, was she alright?"
Ryan shrugged. "Sure. Dad slapped me right after, and everything exploded."
"He slapped you?"
"Yeah. I had just broken my mother's wrist."
"Unintentionally."
"Yeah, but still. I was angry when I pushed her."
"I know."
"It's not like you can justify her ignoring me. Kids are annoying. They talk alot. I'm sure I was easy to ignore." Ryan shrugged.
"I know that, and ignoring you occasionally isn't a horrible thing. But five year olds often get angry too. It's not unusual that you would lose your temper and push her."
Ryan shrugged, and looked past to the window. "For months after that, I wondered if I was going to go to jail."
"Was your mom angry at you?"
"It wasn't good, all around, but no. She wasn't. Probably because I was so upset by it."
"You held that in for quite a long time."
"I hurt my mom when I was little."
"You didn't mean to, though. It's not the same as conscious intent to hurt."
"I've never told anyone. Ever."
"I'm glad you told me."
"I feel guilty because from then on everything got worse. Like, always fighting."
"You think it was because of you pushing your mom?"
"They fought alot about that, about my dad slapping me."
"I can imagine so. That lies more on your dad slapping you than you pushing your mom."
"Yeah, but it wouldn't have happened, were I not so impatient."
"Have you ever made up for that offense?"
Ryan was taken aback by that. "How do you mean?"
"I'm guessing you felt like you had to make up for it? By being good?"
"Well, yeah. I wasn't a rowdy kid after that."
"Have you made up for it, then, by now?" In perfect timing, right as Sandy asked, and before Ryan could answer, Sandy's buzzer went off, signalling time to leave.

Sandy looked at the watch. "This time, next week then. You know you can always call if you need anything." Ryan nodded. He said that every week.

He got up, then, and went outside. In his messenger bag, which he kept slung over his shoulder at all times, his phone buzzed. It occurred to him, as he picked it up out of his bag, that it should've been on silent. He wondered why it had been on vibrate in the first place. "Hello?" He said as he put the phone to his ear and slid fluidly into the driver's seat of the car.
"Hey, Kiddo!" His Dad's voice declared.
"Dad, what's up?" He smiled.
"Not a lot, kid, just working."
"Interesting."
"How about you? You sound a little down."
"Oh, I'm good. I just got out of therapy."
"Good, how is that going for you?"
"I don't know. Mom wants me to continue, but I really don't see the point."
"Well doesn't it help to talk to someone?"
"I guess, but it's self indulgent when I could just be getting over things and moving on. It'd save so much-"
"Time?" His dad interrupted.
"Yeah."
"We don't want something bad to happen to you again, okay? So keep on it for us."
"I don't really have the choice."
"I know. Are we still on for dinner tonight?"
Ryan sighed. "You had to ask."
"I know, I know. Meet me at Antipasto at six, okay?"
"One hour?"
"Yeah. It's about a 45 minute drive. You'll love the place, and the food."
"Okay. I'll start now."
"See you in a little while, Kid."
"Bye." He hung up his phone, put it back where it belonged, and after successfully starting the car, he was on his way. He got to the restaurant and as soon as he got there, the waitress seated him.