I sat up leaning against the wall, knees to my chest. It was hard being on the other side of the therapist chair nowadays. And Toby knew the look to give me that would get me to open up — eyebrows slightly raised in curiosity, not too somber, nor too joyful. He read me so well that he probably knew the answer to his own question.
"I'm really worried about Violet."
"That's not why I'm here, though, is it?"
"Well, no, but it's relevant."
He urged me to continue.
"I think since she moved in, I've been a little triggered. Back in the day we used to party really hard together, you know, my college days."
"Yeah, I remember."
There was a long pause as I wondered what to say next. Toby notoriously took his role as spanker seriously... but I was getting cold feet. "I'm feeding off her depressive energy, sinking into bad habits again, doing things I'm ashamed of." I stared at my twiddling thumbs, chewing on my lower lip.
"Such as?"
His words punched me in the stomach and my shoulders lifted in a shrug, not wanting to answer him. But the silence weighed down on me, classic therapy technique, succeeding at breaking me. "You know... the usual. Smoking more than normal..." A voice in my mind told me to leave it at that — Toby doesn't need to know more, or it'll jeopardize our friendship. Another part of me knew I had to tell him everything. "I've been fucking off at the clinic... I skipped a day of work for no reason and then took my pen with me to the office... I mean, I didn't smoke much, and never right before seeing a client... I made sure to give myself time..."
"Don't make excuses for my benefit." His terse remark caused my head to lift. Now his gaze was less curious and more serious, slightly disappointed.
"I don't want you to think that I'm going to fuck up the opportunity you gave me at your office..."
"If you were really worried about that, someone else would be here right now."
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