Dr. Bower: So Tom, what would you say you miss most about your father?

Thomas: (eyes shift to the floor, holding back his tears)

Dr. Bower: (after long pause) I am going to repeat myself. What are you going to miss most about your father?

Thomas: (clears his throat and fidgets with his fingers) Um…

Dr. Bower: (taps the end of his pen on his clipboard with irritation and impatience) It seems that you’re crying. What is sparking these emotions?

Thomas: I’m not crying. (tears that are stored in his eyes seem to slide out, trickling down his cheeks)

Dr. Bower: You’re not? Well it definitely looks like you are.

Thomas: I’m not. I’m just tired. Got no sleep last night.

Dr. Bower: You know… that’s what my daughter told me when she was a young girl and she was upset. “I’m just tired”.

Thomas: You know… I can’t sleep because I can’t even close my eyes for a half second without seeing my dad in my head. Every single time. Even when I blink. I’m just so tired. I’m not crying. I’m tired. (tousles his chestnut medium length hair gradually )

Dr. Bower: You’re only sixteen, Tom; you don’t have to act like an adult. Even if you prefer acting like an adult, just know, adults cry too.

Thomas: (looks up but doesn’t make eye contact) When he used to make me eggs in the morning, he would come up to my room… and smile at me and ask, “Scrambled or sunny side up?” Yet I’ve had scrambled eggs everyday of my life. (looking off in the distance remembering)

Dr. Bower: Good, tell me more.

Thomas: And even though he always had work, he seemed to be able to make quality time for us to hangout together every week and since he was a lawyer, his language was so challenging to understand because it was way too complex for a boy my age but he seemed to always understand me so conversations were never ending.

Dr. Bower: Okay, what did you guys talk about? (seeming interested in the conversation)

Thomas: (ignoring the question just asked by Dr. Bower) And he came to every single one of my baseball games, even though he hated the sport and he would always cheer me on and he studied the game just so he could give me advice when I needed it…

Thomas: (pauses and smiles softly) and he was the first one to come on the field when I hit the game winning homerun and he pretended he was the coach sometimes and scream at the umpires and sometimes he would call me downstairs for dinner and we would watch an old Yankee’s game because he knew I loved them and we would just sit there, screaming and cheering at the television and, like, that was really the time I cherish most from my years with him, and after the game was over he would say he only watched it to keep me company just because he loves me and he would say he ‘despised the sport of baseball’, but I think he actually grew a love for it. (taking a deep breath realizing he was on a rant)

Dr. Bower: Wow. I’m sure he really loved spending the quality time with you. Is there anything else you want to share, Tom? (tilting his head)

Thomas: The thing I’m going to miss most is that he always called me Thomas, because that’s my name. And when I asked him why he always called me that, he said it was because when I was born, I was given the name Thomas. Not Tom or Tommy. Thomas. And, you know, he said that when he looked at me the first time he held me, he saw a genuine, kind human being. He said he knew in that moment that I was good. That I would always be good. So in that moment, I was Thomas. And that’s what I’ll always be to him. When I was younger, I didn’t care what people called me, but I was remembered by my father as Thomas. So that’s my name. (finally making eye contact)

Dr. Bower: (opening his eyes wide, raising his eyebrows, he puts down his pen, surrendering) Well then, Thomas. Our time is up. Thank you for expressing your feelings to me.

Tom: (gets up from the sofa and walks out of the door, as utter silence fills the room)