Rhinoceros: Ryon's story 16
Tuesday
Rehab. If there’s one thing I do hate about this place, it’s my fucking rehab meetings. Only coming across a couple of pigs in the meeting room could be worse. But I’ll leave that very interesting story for now.
I was in even less of a mood for rehab than usual this time. More poking and prodding to figure out Ryon the misfit from the underclass. Like I’m some kind of specimen. Another room, table, two chairs. The counsellor asked me what my hopes or ambitions are. I said, “I ain’t got any.” She didn’t believe me. She’s called Lauren. She wears baggy sweaters and long skirts and she has a scarf tied round her short hair, and long ear-rings with birds in hoops at the end. And sensible shoes. Frank says it’s good to notice these things when you write. Observational detail. Frank says a lot of stuff like this.
Lauren said, “Everyone has something to live for, to aim for, however small.”
I said, “Like your next bag of chips or cigarette?”
“Well, sort of,” she said. “But I’m thinking more of careers or sport, or wanting a family perhaps.”
“Yeah, well that’s what you’re thinking, not what I’m thinking.”
She went all huffy after that and made some notes in her pad, probably saying what a cunt I am. Frank says he’s got something very interesting for me, but he’ll show me after tomorrow’s Rehab. “”What? Another fucking meeting with Lauren?” I said.
“Don’t forget you’ll be leaving us soon.” And he whistled as he left the room, like everything was going to be just fine.
Which, in a way, if certain plans go my way, could be true.
