by Nicky James
“Fuck.” I washed a hand over my face as I watched the cat wander from the kitchen and sit nearby to clean himself.
I finished my smoke and immediately lit another as I grew the balls to make the call. Samson finished his bathing and wandered toward the balcony curtains.
“Don’t even fucking think about it,” I snarled.
Hearing the snap in my voice, he reconsidered. We’d gone over his window obsession all week, and he finally understood they were off limits—at least until the sun went down. He meowed with indignation and disappeared down the hall toward the bedroom.
“Stay away from the window in there, too, you brat.”
Alone again, I stared at the paper in my hand and puffed on my cigarette. Stanley Polaris. Director of Dewhurst Point Counseling Center.
“Fine. You think you can help me, buddy? We’ll see.”
I butted out my smoke, inputted the number into my cell, and connected the call. My heart raced as I listened to the ringing on the other end. Deep down, I willed my call to go unanswered. No luck. On the third ring, a cheery voice told me I’d reached the reception desk. I asked for the guy’s extension and was immediately transferred.
Before the second ring, a deep, burly voice picked up.
“Stan Polaris. How can I help you?”
I cleared my throat and spoke through the swelling lump lingering within. “Hey… umm… the name’s Rory. Rory Gallagher. My friend was talking to you on Monday and gave me this number. Told me to give you a call.”
“Mr. Gallagher. Good afternoon. I was hoping to hear from you. How are you doing today?”
Were we seriously going with casual chit-chat? I didn’t have the patience for that shit. Didn’t he know how hard it was for me to make the call to begin with?
“Umm… Fine, I guess.”
He seemed to sense my unease and didn’t force me to continue. “You have a pretty great friend looking out for you.”
Yeah, sure I did.
“As much as he’s shared, it would be better if I hear directly from you what kind of help you might be looking for. Our services are quite diverse compared to other locations, so like I told your friend, I hope we can work something out to fit your needs.”
I breathed through my nose for a minute, coaching myself to stay on the line, even though all I wanted to do was hang up.
“I don’t really know what I need, to be honest. All I know is I’ve got some issues, and they aren’t going away on their own.”
“I understand.”
No, you don’t, buddy. You have no fucking clue.
“Your friend, Krew, is it?”
“Yeah.”
“He explained that you are unable to be outside during the daylight hours. He also said sessions inside our building wouldn’t work for you because the lighting would be uncomfortable. Is this accurate?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, hating Krew more and more. “Yeah.”
“Okay. Like I told Krew, off-premise counseling isn’t something we generally provide after five in the evening, but I’ve been given to understand you don’t keep the same waking schedule as most and that a daytime appointment might be difficult. However, we try hard to be accommodating to special needs.”
I worked hard to hold my tongue, grinding my teeth so I wouldn’t tell him to fuck off. I hated being labeled and categorized.
“If this is something you want to pursue, Mr. Gallagher, I think I may have sorted out a solution.”
He paused. It was my turn to agree. If I didn’t own up to needing help, I wouldn’t get it. It was the first time anything had been available, and I knew, despite my resentment toward the whole idea, if I didn’t follow through, I’d be sorry.
“Yeah… I need to do something.”
There was a shuffling of papers on the other end of the phone before Mr. Polaris spoke again. “All right, here’s what I’m going to do. I have a brand-new counselor onboard with us. Extremely smart kid, fresh out of school. He’ll be working the graveyard shift starting next week. I’ll speak with him and set him up for an introductory session for next Monday, how does that sound? He’ll come and go over some information, do an assessment, and you two can discuss what you think you need in terms of therapy.”
Why did it not surprise me that I’d be stuck with some new guy? For about the hundredth time since Krew brought up the whole idea, I cursed him under my breath.
“Yeah, sure. What time Monday?”
“His shift is from eleven at night until seven in the morning. How about I start his night off with you and cut down his traveling time a bit. First meetings generally last a little longer than most because we like to gather some basic information for your file. So, let’s plan for eleven until roughly one in the morning. Give or take.”
I begrudgingly agreed and gave the man my contact information so the new guy could get a hold of me. The minute I was off the phone, I sent Krew a text.
I hate you so fucking much right now.
It didn’t take long before I got a response.
You called him! Sweetheart, this is a good thing. Trust me.
Krew was about the only person in the whole world I trusted, so despite my jitters and pounding heart, I tried to focus on the positive.
And if it all goes to shit?
Without missing a beat, his answer pinged.
Then I’ll be there.
Chapter Four
Adrian
Day one at my new job had been overwhelming, to say the least. Stanley had assigned a guy named Taylor to show me the ropes. He’d set me up with an ID badge and gave me the proper passwords, so I had access to the company’s computer system. Afterward, there had been a quick crash course on how to operate their internal programs. It wasn’t anything too difficult, and I caught on without too much trouble. Later in the morning, I’d been invited to join in on a few sessions Taylor had scheduled—with the client’s permission, of course. It gave me a good firsthand look into my responsibilities. Also, he’d shown me the ins and outs of how to handle their crisis line, since that was where a majority of my time would be spent in the beginning. Before I’d clocked out for the day, I’d been assigned my own seven square feet of space, and despite it being incredibly small and impersonal, I couldn’t have been more proud.
On Friday morning, I barely made it to my desk to hang my coat when Taylor caught up to me, a huge, beaming smile glowing out his sage green eyes. He was easily ten years older than me, but he could have passed for mid-twenties without a problem. His blond hair was a direct contrast to his dark brow. He wore it longer, and it curled a little on the ends by his ears making it appear unruly.
“Hey, Adrian, Stanley has been waiting for you. Told me to send you to his desk when you got here.”
I furrowed my brow and checked the time on my watch. I wasn’t late or anything, and Taylor was smiling, so I assumed it wasn’t bad. “Is something the matter?” I asked, instantly fearing the worst.
Taylor clapped me on the shoulder as we continued to my office space. “Not at all. Rumor has it, he has a special assignment for you already.” With a wink, Taylor shot past me and went to his own cubicle four down from mine.
Special assignment?
I draped my coat over the rack in the corner and left my shoulder bag beside my desk before straightening my collar and fixing my glasses. I’d worn my favorite argyle sweater over a white button up and was glad. The air conditioning inside was too chilly for my liking. The previous day, I’d frozen my ass off. Didn’t these people know it was barely the first of May?
Not wishing to keep my boss waiting, I made my way through the maze of cubicles until I stood outside Mr. Polaris’ section. He was on the phone, and I didn’t want to interrupt, so I shuffled in place as I waited, scanning the large room and all the dividing walls within. When I glanced back, Mr. Polaris caught my eye and waved me in, indicating I should take a seat across from him.
My mind raced as I considered the reasons he wanted to
see me. Before I had long to think, he hung up and leaned back in his chair, crossing an ankle over his opposite knee, looking far more comfortable than me.
“Good morning, Adrian. How did things go yesterday? Did Taylor help you get sorted out?”
I sat straighter and reflexively adjusted my glasses. “He did, thank you. There is a lot to take in, but nothing I can’t handle. The crisis line is an intriguing process. The prompt script is something I recognize from one of my clinical skills courses. We practiced using it a lot in class.”
Too much talking. Shut up.
I gnawed my lip.
Stanley seemed amused. He nodded and smiled. “You’re a smart kid, Adrian. I know you’ll do great here. Listen.” He tapped his steepled fingers together as he pinned me with a mischievous look. “I have something that’s come up recently, and I’d like to see how you feel about it.”
“Umm… S-sure.”
He dropped his leg to the ground and pulled himself closer to his desk. “I spoke on the phone yesterday with a young man who is looking for some counseling services. My initial impression is that he is leery about the whole process but has talked himself into trying it out. I don’t know anything about his history so I may be jumping the gun here, but based on his unique request, I think we might be dealing with an individual who has a severe phobia.”
My ears perked, and my mind instantly went into overdrive as I pulled up all the information I’d learned in my extra-curricular course on anxiety disorders. We’d spent over a week discussing phobias, and I’d found the information to be incredibly fascinating.
“Phobia of what, sir?”
Mr. Polaris grinned and shook his head. “Please, at the very least call me Mr. Polaris if Stanley doesn’t suit you. I’m not sir.”
“I’m sorry.” I fidgeted as I waited for him to answer my question.
“Prior to speaking with this individual, I had a conversation with a close friend of his who was looking for information about our services. He explained that what inspired him to call us was the fact that we ran a twenty-four-hour counseling center. His friend is unable to make daytime appointments, and on further discussion, I learned, he is also unable, or perhaps unwilling, to meet in our building due to the intensity of our lights. He’s requested home visits only. After hours.”
I couldn’t stop my lips from parting, or the small intake of air as my eyes widened. “Heliophobia? Wow, I’ve only ever read about such things. That’s so incredible.”
Mr. Polaris tilted his head to the side and cocked a brow. “Explain.”
With the wide smile splayed across his face, I wasn’t sure if he was asking because he didn’t know or if he was testing me.
“Heliophobia. An intense fear of the sun or sunlight which can, over time, morph into a fear of light altogether. Rare, but not unheard of. The root cause can be difficult to determine in some cases, but in most, there is a clear and impacting event that sets it off.”
By the time I’d finished my explanation, Mr. Polaris shook his head and chuckled. “Goddamn, kid. I knew I hired you for a reason. Like I said, I can’t say for certain this is what we are dealing with because the client was not very forthcoming on the phone, but he did agree to an initial counseling session. Are you ready for this?”
Holy shit! He was asking me to take on the client. An off-premise client. At night. It would be my first time officially running a counseling session. In school, we’d frequently run mock meetings for practice, but this was the real deal. My stomach did a complete flip inside my belly, and I tried to hide my nerves as I answered.
“I’d be thrilled to take this on. Thank you for trusting me.”
“If I didn’t think you could handle it, I wouldn’t be offering.” He chuckled again as he pulled forward a brown file folder. It was empty except for a few blank sheets I remembered Taylor explaining were for initial client registration. They were the standard forms we used for gathering general information and making assessments. On the front of the folder was a sticky note with the name Rory Gallagher and a phone number. Mr. Polaris slid the folder across the desk.
“When speaking to Mr. Gallagher yesterday, he agreed to an appointment at his house at eleven Monday night. I explained I would have someone call him to confirm the appointment and acquire an address.”
“I can do that.”
We spoke for a few more minutes about how my schedule would work around the sessions once they were set up, and Mr. Polaris dismissed me with more gratitude than I felt worthy of. It was surreal how fast I was falling into place at my new job.
That evening, I dodged my roommates while I put together a quick sandwich for dinner and escaped to my room to eat. I’d been instructed that my new client would prefer any phone calls to be made in the later evening since he slept during the daylight hours. It was another red flag that indicated Mr. Polaris’ assumption about Heliophobia was probably accurate.
At nine o’clock, I pulled out the folder I’d been given and found a black pen so I could take notes if necessary. Before making the call, I took a few deep breaths, reminding myself of all I’d been taught, knowing it was time to put it to practice.
So many times over the past four years, I’d convinced myself I didn’t have what it took to do the practical part of the job. The book smarts weren’t the issue; it was the people skills that worried me. If I didn’t get over my personal anxiety of confrontations, I might need to go into research or teaching. I knew everything in theory, but I wasn’t sure how I would handle therapy sessions if the person I counseled was remotely intimidating. I shriveled in the presence of hostility or anger, and I knew that was not a good mix for my ideal career choice. The idea that I’d wasted four years of schooling didn’t sit well, so I forced a strong front and dialed the number on the sticky note.
He picked up on the second ring.
“If you’re selling something, I’m hanging up.”
I opened my mouth and closed it again, instantly uncomfortable. “Umm… Hello? Mr. Gallagher, I assume?”
Silence.
I swallowed hard and sat up straight, summoning my courage back to the surface before continuing. “This is Adrian Anderson, I’m calling from Dewhurst Point Counseling Center. Do you have a minute to talk?”
An audible sigh came through the line before the man grumbled, “Yeah. It’s Rory, not Mr. Gallagher.”
“I understand. Rory, I was hoping to confirm an appointment that was tentatively set up for Monday night. My boss explained I would be coming to your residence, is that correct?”
“Yeah. Is that a problem?”
He said it like he expected me to tell him it was.
“Not at all. I’m happy to come to you. If eleven o’clock still works, all I need is an address.”
“Yeah, eleven’s fine.”
He relayed his address, and our phone call ended just as abruptly. He wasn’t exactly the chatty type, and I hoped he opened up more in our sessions.
With that order of business completed, I considered my evening. It was Friday night, so I’d probably have the house to myself since the guys liked to go out partying or bar-hopping most weekends. As much as I wanted to take advantage of the peace and quiet and get some extra sleep, I knew I needed to train my body to working nights since my schedule was about to turn my life upside down.
Deciding to catch up on a few video seminars I’d meant to watch, I set up my laptop on my desk, angled it so I could see from my bed, and kicked back to relax—with a notepad, of course, since I liked taking notes of things I found interesting.
* * *
The only thing I hated more than being bullied by my roommates were the moments in between when I walked on eggshells, waiting for it to happen—because it would happen. It was simply the calm before the storm. Not knowing when or where the next assault would come from kept me on edge and made me sick to my stomach.
It was a quarter to ten on Monday night, and I’d snuck into the kitchen to make myself a lunch bef
ore I called a cab to take me to my first ever session with a client. Not only was I apprehensive over my first official job, but things at home were too quiet for my liking.
Marcus had an array of books spread out on the island in the kitchen where he was propped on a stool studying. With his head lowered to his textbook, his black hair fell in front of his eyes. Summer courses had begun the previous week, and he’d signed up for a few extra classes so he could get further ahead with his engineering degree. I admired his brain. He was smart as hell and could be a nice guy if he wanted to be. Sadly, he was influenced far too often by the other two idiots in the house, and as a result, we weren’t friends.
The duo were big enough pains in the asses that their parents kept their share of the rent paid over the summer months, so they didn’t have to go home. What did that say about them? Their families didn’t even want them around. With no school until the fall semester, it left them more time on their hands to bother me, because God forbid they get a job and do something productive with their lives.
Tweedledee and Tweedledum were entertaining themselves with the Xbox One in the living room. The constant drone of gunfire filtered through the kitchen wall and helped me remain at ease, knowing they were occupied.
“You going to work?” Marcus mumbled, not lifting his eyes from his textbook.
“Yeah, first official shift after training. Kind of exciting.”
He grunted and scribbled notes onto his notepad. Why did I bother trying? He didn’t care.
I worked through making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and added it to my lunch bag. Noticing the case of bottled water I’d bought the other day was empty, I sighed. If I didn’t keep things hidden away in the closet in my bedroom, they disappeared in record time. My roommates had no problem taking what wasn’t theirs.
Leaving my lunch bag on the counter, I ran back upstairs, knowing I had a few bottles of Gatorade left. I needed to do some shopping. My father put grocery money into my account every Monday, but I hadn’t made it to the store that day.
