Daddy Therapy

Turning away from the window, I look at my therapist, a 28-year-old woman named Sophia.

I’m unsure how I feel about getting emotional help from someone almost as young and inexperienced as I am. But, then again, he doesn’t respect me because of my youth. I resent him for it. I shouldn’t be a hypocrite.

“He told you how we always used to be together, right?” I look down at the floor. “He probably makes some corny joke about how he and I were like a married couple.”

“Does the thought of him making comments like those bother you?” Sophia leans forward in her plush, padded seat.

“Not really,” I answer. “It bothers my boyfriend, Charlie, a lot.”