Like with Lily and Carl. They had fallen to fighting over where he put his cup down, her inability to stay quiet for more than a few minutes, his parents, her parents, and the fact that they fought a lot. They were painful to be around because they made no attempt to hide the fact that they were upset at each other. At the drop of a hat, they would be full out screaming at each other, calling each other names and sometimes even physically hurting each other. Ruby and I had started spending hours with her, explaining how unhealthy the relationship was for both of them. “I can’t leave him. He needs me,” was her constant rebuttal. “But he hit you,” was mine.
They became the couple to avoid, because being with them in a room was physically dangerous. But Ruby and Akul weren’t doing much better. Their relationship was not physical enough. Akul wasn’t really a sexual guy and he didn’t always want to be intimate. Ruby, on the other hand, felt that sex was a forbidden fruit she had been denied all those years leading up to college. Her quota was backlogged and she wanted to make up for lost time. She had started kicking me out of our room, our code word was banana, as if that was supposed to make my leaving my room like a spy adventure. Her ploys to get Akul to sleep with her were always met with resistance, then reluctant acceptance, and then enjoyment, she told me. I tried to listen like a good friend but I always had trouble looking at Akul after those conversations.
I told my counselor about my father’s roller coaster anger, because Flint and John both couldn’t know and Ruby would just continue to judge me. Her reaction was measured; nothing seemed to faze her. “So you’re saying that your father has anger issues.” She never asked questions. Just repeated what I had said and put a period at the end.
“That is what he said.” I was tired of doing all the speaking. It was like I had an echo in this room.
“Tell me more about that.”
I almost threw the sand mandala next to me in the air. “That’s it! That’s all there is to it.”
The counselor wasn’t surprised at all. My anger didn’t faze her. I wondered what she had seen. Had anyone actually thrown this mandala? It was awfully convenient to be a coincidence. Was I supposed to throw the mandala? Was it anger therapy? In that case, I thought, I should probably just take up boxing. Then, on top of being able to control my anger, I’d also be able to fight back if someone tried to hurt me.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Let's talk about your classes then.”
I quieted my inner turmoil and gave her my attention. Classes couldn’t be such an inflammatory topic.
“I’m taking a Bio class that I really like, and I’m retaking that horrible statistics class. I’ve made it to all of the tests so far though, so that’s a step up from last time.”
I looked at her, waiting for a response. I wanted her to say anything that would make this seem like a normal conversation.
She looked at me over her glasses. Her eyebrows encouraged me to go on.
I rolled my eyes. “Calculus is giving me trouble though. I haven’t done well on the quizzes and my homework takes me hours to get through.”
“Calculus is giving you trouble,” she said.
I got to my feet. I glanced back at the mandala but thought better of it. “Thank you for your time today. I really have to go.”
I marched myself right into the Student Academic Services building. Climbing up the stairs, I felt like Rocky. I was ready. I was done talking. I was going to do something about my problem, regardless of what horn-rimmed glasses didn’t say. I reached the top of the stairs and put my fist in the air like at the end of Breakfast Club.
When I walked in, there was another one of those sand farm boxes that you could run your fingers through to keep you calm. I wondered what kind of people came here that they needed that. I walked up to the front desk and discovered that there was no one there. I looked for a bell to ring or another person. I stood there, trying to look like I had just arrived for a few minutes. Then a girl about my age walked out of one of the offices.
“Oh! How long have you been waiting there? You should have hollered.”
She wanted me to holler? To walk into an academic services building and holler? I almost left right there. But I had stormed out of my counselor’s room. One tantrum was enough for the day.
“I’d like to sign up for a Calculus tutor please,” I said, glancing behind me to see if anyone I knew had walked in.
“Okay. Let me look that up for you.” She spent a long time starting at her computer. “It looks like we’re almost out of timeslots for those. But I’ll see what I can do. Can you write your name and email on this sheet of paper?”
I did as I was told, playing with the sand box a little. It was more fun than I had assumed it would be.