Chapter Text
HENSON: Hello, son. Come in, sit down right across from me here.
MICHAEL: [uncomfortable] …Do I really have to do this?
HENSON: Well, if you feel more comfortable standing, then you can obviously do that. But sitting’s also an option.
MICHAEL: No, I mean… this. [muttered] And Aunt Maya says I struggle talking to people…
HENSON: You mean…therapy? Talking to me?
MICHAEL: Yeah, I mean…it feels fuckin’ weird to be talking to some stranger about personal shit. ‘Scuse my language.
HENSON: Not a problem, son. But…well, this was something your aunt wanted to do. She said she wanted to get you some help, and by God we'll do our best to help you.
MICHAEL: But…why? What specifically is the problem?
HENSON: …Didn’t your aunt take you to a psychiatrist a few weeks ago to get you a diagnosis and figure out how to help you best?
MICHAEL: I mean…yeah? But I still don't fucking get it.
[The sound of shuffling papers.]
HENSON: Dissociative Amnesia, right? That's what the psychiatrist said?
MICHAEL: Yeah…something about my brain repressing the bad shit. Still don't understand why that's a bad thing.
HENSON: Mike, I- [sighs] It's…more because you don't remember events surrounding the traumatic ones. You didn't just forget the bad things that happened; you also seem to have forgotten many non-traumatic memories from that time as well. To give you an idea what I mean: Can you tell me anything that happened in 1980? It can be any memory.
[A pause.]
MICHAEL: Well…I turned ten that year, and went to fifth grade…
HENSON: Can you tell me about your birthday that year? What happened? What flavor was the cake? What did you get for your birthday?
[Long silence.]
HENSON: That’s what I thought.
MICHAEL: [agitated] Everyone's just acting like something's wrong with me. Nothing's wrong, damn it!
HENSON: Listen, i-it’s not your fault, Mike. Things like this happen sometimes when you’ve gone through trauma. Which…would make sense for you, considering what I’ve heard from your aunt.
[The sound of more rustling papers, and a sigh.]
HENSON: Listen…why don’t you take a seat so we can get this started? Unless you want to stand, of course, but…I have a feeling you’d like to sit down for this. We’ve still got another twenty-five minutes, after all.
[A shuffling noise, and then footsteps. A chair creaking under someone’s weight. Another sigh.]
MICHAEL: Alright…let’s get this shit over with.
HENSON: [claps hands together] Wonderful. Maybe we can just spend this session getting to know each other. That’s what you said was making you apprehensive; talking to a stranger about the things you’ve gone through?
MICHAEL: …Pretty much, yeah.
HENSON: Well, I’ll start, if that helps. I am Dr. Frank Henson, and I’m a psychologist. I have a wife, and we’re getting really close to having two new kids in the family. My wife’s having twins, a boy and a girl.
[A pause.]
MICHAEL: That’s…That’s wonderful. I-I knew a pair of twins once, but uh…we’ll get there.
HENSON: Interesting…Anyway, you can call me Dr. Henson…or Doc, either one works.
MICHAEL: Well…nice to meet you, Doc. Uh, I’m Michael Afton- Douglas, sorry. Still not used to it…Uh, I came from Hurricane, Utah…live with my aunt and her family…my dad’s kinda famous where I come from…
HENSON: Interesting, Michael…it’s nice to meet you.
MICHAEL: …Nice to meet you too, Doc.
[A creaking sound, as though someone’s moving around in their seat.]
HENSON: Now…why don’t we start off with something easy? How have you been adjusting to living with your aunt?
MICHAEL: Well, it’s…not been easy. I don’t really know anyone here besides her and her family, my cousins are already about to head off to college…and I’m kind of a recluse anyway, so…pretty lonely.
HENSON: Well, I’m sure that problem’ll be solved when school starts back in August. You’ll make friends, I’m sure of it.
[A noncommittal hum.]
HENSON: …Well, onto another thing I’m curious about; Could you tell me about your family and other people you were close to back in Hurricane?
[A pause, some shuffling.]
MICHAEL: Well…I lived with my dad and little sister. Really close with both of them, considering they were…kinda all I had left. There was also Uncle Henry, and Sammy. Sammy and I grew up real close, and Uncle Henry was like a second father to me…I didn’t really talk to them much in the past few years, though…
HENSON: I see…you know, that does make me curious. That teddy bear you’re holding. Did one of those people give it to you?
[Long pause.]
HENSON: …Michael? You seem…upset. You don’t have to answer that question-
MICHAEL: It was my brother’s. Cassidy.
HENSON: Oh, is that your older brother? Did he move away? Leave? Is that why you didn’t include him in the list?
MICHAEL: No, no, Cassie was my baby brother…this used to be his.
HENSON: [sympathetic] ‘Was’? Oh…oh, I’m so sorry. What happened, if I may ask?
[Very long pause, quiet sound of sniffling.]
HENSON: [confused, concerned] Michael? Michael, are you alright-?
MICHAEL: [quiet] It’s all my fault.
HENSON: Michael, what are you talking about, son?
MICHAEL: [quiet sobbing, shaky breaths] I-I killed my baby brother. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to, it was just meant to be a prank, b-but I fucking killed him-
HENSON: Michael, Michael, take a few deep breaths, son. Do it like me, in for a few seconds, hold, release, okay? Watch me, son-
[Quiet, shaky breaths, eventually getting longer and calmer. The sobbing dies down.]
HENSON: There. Are you calm now, son?
MICHAEL: [sniffles] H-How do you not hate me? I-I just-
HENSON: How many years ago was it?
MICHAEL: …The hell does that have to-?
HENSON: Kids can make mistakes, sometimes deadly ones. I’ve heard of plenty of cases where some kid was messing around with a gun, a knife, some kind of tool their dad was using, and the next thing they knew a friend or sibling of theirs was dead. It’s horrible, and in some cases, the kid should’ve known better, but kids can be stupid sometimes. So tell me son, how many years ago was it? What was the year?
[A pause.]
MICHAEL: …1983.
HENSON: So you would’ve been…twelve to thirteen years old? Christ, that’s…that’s a weight, holy-
MICHAEL: Thirteen.
HENSON: Pardon?
MICHAEL: That’s how old I was. Thirteen. It was on his birthday, and his birthday is- was after mine.
HENSON: Well…that’s kinda what I meant, kid. Sometimes you fuck up, and maybe you should’ve knew better-
MICHAEL: [quiet] I definitely should’ve.
HENSON: …In any case, it was an accident; you said you didn’t mean to do it. The best we can do now is help you to move forward.
MICHAEL: Why, though? He never got to move on with his life, why do I get that luxury?
HENSON: Because you’re alive, Mike. And I may not know Cassidy, but…I have the feeling he wouldn’t want you to keep carrying this with you forever.
[Silence.]
HENSON: Would you like me to ask another question? To get your mind off of that?
[Pause.]
HENSON: Alright…so, your…aunt. Maya’s her name? Well…she doesn’t seem to be a big fan of your father, from what I could gather. I guess what I'm trying to ask is…did your father ever hurt-?
MICHAEL: [defensive] N-No! He'd never hurt me or Liz! H-He loves the both of us…s-surprised he doesn't hate me, to be honest-
HENSON: Alright, alright, just making sure…maybe another question. One more, since we're almost out of time…you seemed interested when I mentioned me and my wife were having twins. Why was that?
[Pause.]
MICHAEL: …Sammy had a twin sister. Charlotte. Well, we all called her Charlie, y'know? She…she died back in 1980. In a car accident. Well, an accident where she got hit by a car. That kind of accident.
[Pause.]
MICHAEL: …I-I miss her…
HENSON: …Christ, you can't catch a break…I'm very sorry for your loss, son.
[Short pause, and a slight gasp.]
HENSON: Well, Mike, we're out of time, unfortunately…proud of you for making it through your first session!
MICHAEL: [short chuckle, almost scoff] W-Well, it’s easier than I thought it'd be…but I'm still not really looking forward to it. Never really liked talking about this stuff…
HENSON: Which is just another reason I'm proud of you, son. I'm also sorry for your losses, can't imagine how hard those were for you…but, that's a conversation for another day. Maybe next session if you're up for it.
MICHAEL: [scoff] Don't hold your breath, but…maybe.
[Sounds of chairs creaking.]
HENSON: Pleasure meeting you, Mike. I'm just gonna have a quick chat with your aunt, see if there's anything else important to know, and then you and her can be on your way home.
MICHAEL: …Why not ask me?
[Pause.]
MICHAEL: Oh, yeah…right. Well, don't take too long…kinda want to get home..
HENSON: Oh, it should only take a few minutes, not long at all.
HENSON: It was a pleasure meeting you, Mike. Here's to many more great sessions together, and to you, hopefully, getting your memories straightened out with my help.
[END OF TAPE ONE]
------
Final Notes From Psychologist:
Talked with Mrs. Douglas.
Me and Mike have some things to discuss next session.
Namely, that it seems that he's misremembering some events from his past.
Hopefully I don’t worry him too much two weeks from now…considering his caginess this session, and his general mistrust with how this is going to go.
I've got a long road ahead of me with this boy, I can feel it.
- Dr. Frank Henson