Chapter Text
“Since we’re all here together, let’s talk about some household rules.” Clay said, Tommy groaned in response, they’d be here for, what? 4 hours? And they’re already getting rules? “It’s probably not what you think, you’ll probably think well isn’t that obvious? But we just want to make sure everyone is on the same page” Clay said as if he was ready Tommy’s mind.
“Okay, I’ll start,
- Treat people and property with respect.
- Knock on closed doors when entering, we want to try and give you as much privacy as you need.
- Please pick up after yourselves. We may be your new legal guardians but we are not your maids. We don’t think you guys will have a problem with that, and we totally understand if you just forget a time or two.
- Attend the family meetings. We’re going to try to have family meetings once or twice a month, just to check in with everyone. Obviously, if something comes up or you really don’t feel comfortable with participating in a family meeting, please let either me or Clay know so we can work it out and figure out what’s going on.
- Lastly, please be open with how you’re feeling.” George listed.
They seemed easy enough to follow in Toby’s opinion, he could do them all and he knew Wilbur could do them all but the last one was iffy with Tommy,
“Tommy’s really bad with talking about his emotions unless he gets caught feeling them.” Toby said bluntly.
“They’re called my emotions for a reason.” Tommy countered. This got George thinking, Tommy was the only one out of the three boys who doesn’t regularly go to therapy, maybe it wouldn’t hurt if he attended a session or two,
“No absolutely not.” Tommy said, George figured he must’ve been thinking out loud.
“I’ve been to therapy, Clay’s been to therapy. It wouldn’t hurt to go, even if it’s just once.” George said, Tommy only sifted in response.
“This’ll be good for you, Tommy. Please just give it like 3 or 4 sessions and if you still hate it then, we can take you out and you can tell us ‘i told you so’ does that sound alright?”
“Really, Tommy. Therapy isn’t that bad. I’m in it and Toby is it in. There’s nothing wrong with being in therapy or needing a little help sometimes.” Wilbur added,
“Well that’s because you guys need it, I don’t need help. I’ve been fine on my own before so why is now different?” Tommy asked, firmly.
“You didn’t seem too fine on your own in the hallwa-”
“I understand you’re trying to help, Wilbur, but that was a little rude.” George interrupted.
“I’m just trying to say; if it’s happened once, it can happen again. You need to learn how to take care of yourself better and be more willing to ask for help.” Wilbur said, tone much softer than it had been.
“I can even get you set up with Tommy and Wilbur’s therapist, so you know they’re good.” George added.
“Fine.” Tommy caved, “I’ll give it 4 visits, and then I’m done.”
George decided to make the call as soon as everyone has dispersed from the kitchen. The absolute earliest the therapist could get him in was amazingly in 3 hours. George agreed and told Clay about what was going on,
"I can take him if you want to stay here with Wilbur and Toby," Clay offered, George nodded in agreement and went off to tell Tommy of his new plans.
Tommy shifted uncomfortably as his therapist shuffled through some paperwork.
Finally, he looked up at him and smiled warmly, “Hi Thomas, I’m Floris, how are you today?” The man asked, he had a very thin face with patches of white throughout his hair, but his eyes were kind and welcoming.
“Uh, call me Tommy, please.”
“My apologies, Tommy. How’s your day been?”
“S’been alright.” Tommy said, nodding to himself. He couldn’t bring himself to look Floris in the eyes.
“Well, alright is better than a lot of things. Can we start off with a few questions?”
“I guess.” Tommy mumbled,
“I just want to start off with letting you know that everything you say stays between us unless I think you’re going to hurt yourself or someone else. Is this your first time in Therapy?”
“No.”
“Okay, how are you feeling about coming back?”
"A little nervous,”
“I’m sorry to hear that, hopefully it won’t be as bad as it may seem and maybe you’ll learn a bit about yourself.”
Tommy sighed rather loudly, “But there’s nothing wrong with me so I shouldn’t be here in the first place.” He said, his voice teetering on becoming a yell. Floris waited a second and let Tommy take a few deep breaths on his own. He noticed Tommy’s thumb was picking at the skin next to the nail on his middle finger, a tiny amount of blood was seeping into the crease between his skin and nail as his thumb smeared it slightly.
Floris scribbled something down onto his notepad quickly and opened a desk drawer, “What’s your favorite color, Tommy?”
The question caught Tommy for guard for a moment, “Um… Red?”
Floris smiled and nodded, “It’s not exactly red, but it’s the closest color I have,” He handed Tommy a plastic cube with different bits on each side, “This is called a fidget cube, you’ve probably seen one or at least heard of them before. I saw you fidgeting with your fingers, but I think using this would be better than picking at your skin.” Floris spoke.
Tommy did have to agree with him, it would probably be better than knowingly making yourself bleed. The color of the cube wasn’t exactly red, it was more of a maroon-ish color leaning towards purple, but Tommy didn’t hate it. The color was pleasing to the eyes. He hesitantly took the cube, flipping it around in his hands a few times, before his thumb found a divot, the entire side of the cube was just a divot and nothing else. He ran his nail across it, scratching and picking as if it were his skin, it did the job. He leaned back in his seat and waited for Floris to start talking again.
“You know, it’s not a bad thing to need to go to therapy. You don’t even need to have anything wrong to come here. Sometimes people just want a second opinion on things or maybe a new way to challenge themselves to look at life. Therapy is for everyone.” Floris said, with a calm voice.
Tommy had never thought of it that way. He nodded slightly, deciding to not agree or disagree because agreeing would mean he was wrong and Thomas Ward was never wrong, but disagreeing would make him seem rude and he didn’t want to come off that way, especially on their first time meeting.
“Who all is in your family?” Floris asked,
“There’s me, Wilbur, and Toby. We’re all brothers, but now there’s Clay and George too. They’re our new foster fathers.”
“How’s that going? Are you liking the new home?”
“Eh, it’s different. I guess I like it. It hasn't even been a full day yet but they're already trying to have us in mind for everything, like, George really wanted me to be here today. I’m the only one out of my brothers who doesn't go to therapy regularly and he thinks it could really help me, but I don’t know what there is to help.”
Floris nodded, writing something down, and then looked back up, “I’m not saying there is a problem, but let’s imagine you’re Wilbur, if I were to ask Wilbur if there is any chance Tommy would have what he deems a “problem” what would it be?”
“Well Wilbur has been diagnosed with-”
“I didn’t ask what Wilbur was diagnosed with, I asked what Wilbur thinks Tommy would have.” Floris reminded Tommy,
“Ok, um, he would say separation anxiety. I am diagnosed with that.”
“If we could call Wilbur right now, is that all he would say?”
“He might say OCD, but I don’t know.”
“Is there a specific reason for that one?”
“Well, Wilbur has OCD and he keeps telling me that he thinks I have it and he wants me to get tested or whatever, I don’t think I do though. I don’t like labels, even if I do have it, I hate the idea of having it be set in stone that I have one thing and that one thing is all it will ever be and it cannot change or go away because it will always be that label and when people look at my file they won’t see Tommy, they’ll see my diagnosis.” Tommy ranted.
Floris cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat, scribbling something down again on his notepad, “Do you think that’s why you don’t want to come to therapy? Maybe deep down, you know something is wrong, but confronting it like you do in therapy will whittle you down to nothing other than the diagnosis.”
“Yeah, I think that’d explain it pretty well.” Tommy said as his leg started bouncing. The fidget cube in his hand remained in his hand as his thumb travelled back to his middle finger, and started picking at the skin. Technically , it was a sign of compulsion. But that one compulsion couldn’t lead to an entire diagnosis of OCD, he’d need more information
“We’re going to play a game called lightning questions, you’re gonna answer as fast as you can, okay?” Floris asked, Tommy nodded.
“Do you wash your hands a lot?”
“I guess so, probably 8 times a day-ish. Before and after meals, and when I wake up and before I go to bed.”
“What’ll happen if you don’t wash your hands?”
“They’ll be dirty, I’ll get it on me or Toby or Wilbur or in my food.”
“Are Wilbur and Toby younger or older than you?” Floris already knew the answer, he knew Wilbur and Toby but he just wanted to try and lighten up and tension that had been created.
“Wilbur’s older by like, three years, and Toby’s my twin, but I’m older by six minutes so I’ve had more time to wisen-up.” Tommy joked lightly, Floris smiled and hoped this was Tommy becoming more comfortable with him.
“Here's a situation; You’re about to go to school, you’re already running late. Wilbur is driving and you’re waiting with him in the car, Toby locks the door and gets into the car. What happens next?”
“Well, he wouldn’t lock it to begin with, that’s always been my job and both he and Wilbur know that, but I’ll play your game and pretend he does. I would get out and check to make sure he’s locked it right.”
Floris’ pen stopped writing, he furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at Tommy, “What’s the right way to lock it?”
“You... um… you have to check it three times. Lock it three times, just in case they didn’t lock the other times and push like you’re trying to open it three times to make sure that it latched right.”
“I’ve never thought of it that way, how about you show me what you mean on the door to my office, really quick?” Floris suggested, handing Tommy a key on a lanyard. Tommy shrugged and took the key.
They walked into the hallway, closing the door behind them. Tommy put the key into the slot and turned it back and forth three times before taking it out, he then tested the door three times before stepping back and handing Floris the key,
“Now it’s locked.” He stated, matter-of-factly
Floris unlocked the door, opening it slightly to prove that he unlocked it then closed it and put the key into the slot, turned the key one time, and didn’t even check once to see if the door was locked, “Now it’s locked.” He said in the same way Tommy did.
Tommy shifted his weight uncomfortably, “Well, you don’t know if it’s actually locked.”
“But I do. I just locked it.” Floris said, nonchalantly. Tommy starred at him, dumb-founded and mouth slightly agape.
“Do you want to check it?” Floris asked, Tommy nodded and started to reach for the key in Floris’ hand.
“You don’t need the key to check if it’s locked.”
“I really do.” The urgency in Tommy’s voice was an indicator for Floris that the boy would probably start panicking soon, he handed the boy the key, let him do his thing, and then let them both back into the office.
“I think this went really well for our first session together. Let’s cap it today at 30 minutes and give you a break, yeah?’ Floris asked,
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Tommy said, reaching into his pocket to hand pack the fidget cube, “Here you go, I almost forgot it.”
“No, you can keep that if you’d like.” Tommy smiled and thanked the man as the two walked out to the waiting area. Clay was sitting in one of the small chairs and scrolling through his phone, “Hey dad, can I speak to you for a moment?” Floris asked, Clay’s head perked up and he nodded,
“I’ll be right back kiddo, just wait here.” Clay said to Tommy, whose face had dropped at the mention of them talking without him there.
Clay sat down in the seat across from Floris’ desk,
“Did everything go well?” Clay asked,
“Oh most definitely, that’s not what I’m worried about right now.” He pulled out his notebook and slipped a pair of black framed glasses onto his nose, “I just wanted to let you know, Tommy’s been picking at the skin on his fingers. Since he’s aware that he’s bleeding when he’s doing it, it classifies as self-harm. I also think I’m going to diagnose Tommy with OCD just from some things I’ve seen today. We did a little exercise and it was pretty clear. There’s obviously anxiety but I believe the anxiety along with any other mood outbursts are just stemming from the OCD to begin with, so I wanted to get him started on a pretty low dosage of Buspirone. It can help treat compulsions and lessen anxiety as well as aid in sleep.”
Clay nodded, taking it all in, maybe they’d finally be able to get Tommy the help he needs.
“Is there a pharmacy you’d like me to send the prescription to?”
“Um yeah, this one.” Clay scribbled the address down on a piece of paper and handed it to Floris,
“Alright, take care. I’ll see him this time next week?”
“Unless anything changes, yes.”
“Okay, contact me if you need anything.” Floris ended with, he waved Clay out and he made his way to the sitting area where Tommy was messing with a magenta piece of plastic,
“Okay, Toms, we’re heading home now, we are going to stop at the pharmacy on our way though.”
Tommy sank in on himself slightly, making a noise of acknowledgement before getting up and making his way to the car.
This would hopefully be the start of Tommy’s new beginning.