Steady Now

It was when he told me that it had been four years since he had seen a therapist that I knew he was going to be a problem. Don’t worry though because this isn’t going to be a story about a life-changing therapeutic session - I think that therapy works for some people, but for most it functions as a sort of friend for hire. These are people who go to therapy every Thursday at 8:45 am for forty-five minutes, are billed for an hour, and don’t really want to change or improve which is okay because they were mostly fine to begin with. Jason Apple was not one of these people. Jason Apple would have seriously benefited from weekly, structured, psychological help.

He was the kind of person that you worry about when you think about new people. A being, an invasive species that you let into your world and, before you know it, it has set up a bed and breakfast that it tells you it can’t close because then where will it’s mother sleep? And you feel bad about not having an answer for this, and also it’s mother isn’t horrible, but also it’s telling that you met her because this particular invasive specie just came into your life to purchase your futon or at least that’s what you thought he was doing.

I know now that this is how Jason Apple gets his hooks into people. He answers Craigslist ads for things he has no intention of buying in order to befriend the owner of the item in question. I can’t imagine that this works each time he tries it, but I am pretty sure that there are enough suckers out there to keep him in business. The sad, sorry folk of this world who think that their bigger problem (loneliness) will be solved by getting rid of a smaller problem (a futon that kind of smells like cat urine but only if you put your head really close to the part that Sigmund peed on).

To be honest I was kind of surprised that he didn’t just immediately bolt, but sat for a while and seemed to really consider the couch. Most of the other people who came to look at it (I was asking for a low price so people did come) figured out pretty quickly why my price point was so competitive and then made some sort of excuse about how, you know, on second thought, it wasn’t really going to vibe with the rest of the furniture in their rec room. Some people were kind and just said thanks but no thanks. Jason stayed, and somehow the conversation turned from the kind of fabric that the futon cover was made out (which I didn’t know) to what bands I was listening to and if I believed that God existed or not. Jason is a staunch atheist but I respected and liked the fact that he didn’t try to sell me on his atheism. I told him that I didn’t really know what I felt, and that I hadn’t thought about it all that much. I didn’t tell him that I hadn’t thought about it because I didn’t really want to think about it, but I think he picked up on that anyway.

And then, somehow, he went to go grab beers at the local grocery store. He was gone for 20 minutes, and I called my aunt Beth to tell her what was happening.

“But he just came to buy your futon? And now you’re gonna drink together? I mean, that’s good, because you don’t really have any friends there.” When he knocked at the door, I took a few steps up the stairs, toying with the idea of maybe just hiding under my covers until he went away. He would knock for a little while, maybe even text me, but then eventually get the message and go away. I paused on the staircase, not entirely aware that the next six months of my life would be decided by this one moment, but I could still feel the gravity of a voice that whispered: “Steady now.”

I opened the door and let him in.

Now we watch TV and drink Blue Moon every night.

I wanted to be a writer but my therapist told me that I spend too much time alone and that I should try and say yes to more situations. So I’ve said yes to watching baseball even though baseball is about as boring as a Senate hearing on C-SPAN. I’ve said yes to the Blue Moon hangover (which is indescribably different than other hangovers). And I’ve said yes to being friends with a person that I really have nothing in common with and don’t really like being around.

My therapist said she is proud of me and that I’m making progress which made me feel warm and fuzzy inside because I care what she thinks about me and I want her to approve.