Chapter 1 - Kathy

A good man will endure nearly anything for his children. War. Hunger. Even therapy. I am not a good man, but I’m trying.

“Archer, that’s not the point,” says the talking head. “Let’s try to stay on topic. You know why the court is making you see me.”

I’m not really ‘seeing’ anybody. Danny, my therapist, has always just been a bearded face on a screen. We’ve never met.

I put on my best neutral smile for the camera and reply, “Because I ate half a bottle of THC gummies following a bad divorce – raspberry flavor. Drugs are bad. So I get therapy. You confirm this was an isolated episode. Then I get to keep seeing my kid every other week. Right?”

I roll my shoulders. “It’s not like I was in any danger or actually trying to off myself,” I add.

It was one time. My ex-wife, her lawyer, and the judge decided that one time is apparently a habit that needs addressing.

“Self-harm doesn’t have to be suicidal to be self-harm,” Danny responds in a dull tone for what feels like the twentieth time. It’s probably the thirtieth and I just wasn’t paying attention.

I’m still smiling, but I wonder if Danny can see it. The part of me that’s terrified of losing my daughter. Therapists get college educations, master’s degrees, fancy professional licenses. That’s got to count for something. I just need him to sign off that I’ve completed my court-required therapy time, not solve the life of Archer Wood.

If I can’t solve this life, a head-on-a-screen doesn’t have a prayer.