Antiproportional

Alex Harbort

by Alex Harbort

Story

“So, why are you two here today? I’m guessing we are to talk about you, right?”

The woman with gray hair and extended eyes glares at me directly like she might find the answer in my face. She won’t, I know that.

My mother answers for me.

“Yes. This is Alex, and we are looking for a therapist for him.”, she says rather loud.

“It all started a few months ago when one day he woke up–“, the old woman holds up her hand to stop my mother.

She stares at me again. “Why don’t you tell me about the story yourself?”, she asks.

I open my mouth, but close it again right after, not expecting a whole conversation-starter. But she just keeps smiling at me expectantly, and after she even nudges her head to the side I finally give up.

“Well, my mother is right. It started a few months ago, the big thing. The feeling.”, I almost whisper.

“What is the ‘feeling’? Can you describe it a little more?”, the woman asks.

I look around the room, searching for the answer in one of her indigo plants. “Well,”, I start again “It’s the– we call it the sadness. It’s basically when I feel very, very…”

I suddenly am at a loss of words and my eyes fixate on the plants.

“Very?”

No matter how many times I try to remember what I’ve been feeling the past months, it doesn’t come to mind. It was just so painful.

“Painful.”

And for the rest of the 45-minute session we talk about anything, but why I’m actually here. By the end of it, my polite smile has turned into that of Margot Robbie in the famous mirror scene from “I, Tonya”.

But for some reason she agrees to be my therapist and when we finally leave my mother is beaming at me. She gives me a hug, and I am smiling too, because why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t I be super happy right now? Why the hell wouldn’t I?

The car ride home my stomach keeps hurting, and my mind keeps wandering. Why the hell am I not happy? The smile on my face starts to scrunch, because the smiling hurts my cheeks. It hurts so much that my stomach hurts even more and a whole line of thoughts roll up in my head. Why the hell am I not happy? Why? Why? Why?

At that moment we pass a child. It is crying over icecream without anyone to sooth it. The smile is washed off my face.

I take my hand off my stomach because it’s stopped hurting.

© Alex Harbort 2023-06-22

Genres
Novels & Stories, Self-help & Life support