Psychotherapist

On the following Friday, I got permission to leave school early- every kid's dream, right? Except, I had to go to the doctor, the not doctor.

The plan was to meet my mother at the Drustgox Medical Complex. The 'x' is silent. The building was roughly ten stories tall. Dr. Adams' office was on the eighth floor. I hesitated on the other side of the street which ran buy the entrance of the intimidating building. I stared unmoving at the eighth floor where I imagines Dr. Adams must be. The dark tinted windows gave nothing away. As a matter of fact, all the glass windows and doors on the building was as opaque as the black walls which housed them.

I saw my mother before she saw me. Her anxiety could easily be mistaken for excitement as she waved at me fanatically. I pretended not to look at her as I cross the road. It's not like I was super popular or anything. I just couldn't stand the thought of someone seeing us here and making it a whole thing at school.

When I got close to her, I looked her up and down. She was already dressed for her night job.

"Honey," She said. "I am so glad you are not making this difficult."

I did not answer her.

She continued, "I can't stay for the whole session because I have to go in to work a little earlier than usual. Bobby called out again and they need me to make up some of his hours. Don't be mad. I came here first because I want you to know you have my full support to deal with whatever is wrong with you."

My brow's furrowed before I was aware that I was annoyed. Why was she so convinced that something was wrong with me. I'm just a little tired these days. That's all.

We stood in the walkway for a good minute before we went inside.

I thought about the medical bills from my two month stay in the hospital, the physio-therapy twice a week when I finally left, my school fees coming up soon, and the new bill for this psychotherapist I was being guilted into seeing. My brows unfurrowed themselves. I half-walked, half-limped over to her and hugged her with my right arm. I could walk without assistance now but the limp in my left leg was pretty obvious.

I hugged her and squeezed her just a little. I appreciate what she was trying to do for me. She has been my rock for as long as I could remember. In this rare moment when we were this close to each other, it occurred to me that she seems smaller and shorter somehow.

I relaxed and made a mental note to give this doctor a real try since my mother was working so hard.

"Let's go. Mom," I said evenly, still hugging her.

We walked into the lobby where we met an overly chirpy middle aged woman with the name, 'Tabatha' engraved in bold curvy black letters against a golden name tag.

She smiled broadly, "Hello I'm Tabatha. Do you have an appointment today?"

"Yes, my son is here to see Dr. Adams. His name is Gregory..."

As they spoke, my eyes wandered. Outside may have been dark but natural light streamed inside the spacious lobby through transparent floor-to-ceiling windows. Directly outside the windows was an open air garden which sat between the offices which were designed to face each other. Eight offices on the ground floor left space for an octagonal garden. The garden was in full bloom but some drooped against they rays of the sun an hour past noon. Lazy benches sat in the gardening around a small fountain which functioned as a birdbath. The fountain itself was ordinary- Three cherubs pouring water down into each others bowl until the water emptied into a mini stream that gurgled throughout the garden. Black and cold koi swam randomly with and against the current od the stream. Additional water must feed the stream from some other outlet I could not see from where I was. The concept was nice- very relaxing.

The minute tick of a modern-looking grandfather clock brought my attention back to the lobby.

"We're a little early," My mother said as she touched my arm. "Let's sit over here for a few minutes.

She meant to lead me but I told her to go ahead and sit without me. I wanted to to survey the room. Maybe it would help to relax me to get a better feel for the character of the place.

Three leather couches sat on different sides of the lobby's walls- yellow, white and a deep shade of red. I think they call that burgundy. I assumed that these were the themed colours of the medical complex because they seemed rathe obnoxious in comparison with the classic aura of all the other decorative pieces within the lobby.

All the wooden furniture appeared to be carefully polished mahogany accentuated with bronze finishes. The lamps on the wall were both functional and decorative. Each bronze bell flower hovered up and down alternatively in clusters of three.

The office plants were strategically placed behind or beside accent piece side tables which could be found at either side of each couch. Each side table was left virtually bare except for elaborately designed coasters in the event a client may require coffee as he or she waited.

The center of the room, designed to be a depression of two steps down was a padded play area for small children but even that area did not boast colours as loud as these couches. Not for the first time, I wondered how much this was costing my mom.

"Greg, let's go."

My mother got up with a strained look on her face as though she was the one being evaluated. We knocked and then entered. That's what the sign on the door of the office to the furthest right of the elevator on the eight floor said we should do.

I expected to see a burly man in his fifties with a bald spot and thick-lens glasses. If he wore a three piece suit with a tie way too tight, that would not surprise me.

In reality, he was an athletic man maybe in his late thirties or early forties. He was a little over six feet tall with and had a full head of brown curly hair. He wore glasses but not the thick round ones I envisioned. The frame of his glasses were gold and rectangular. They had transition lens which looked really cool as he took them off before greeting my mother, then me.

"Welcome. I'm Dr. Adams. You must be Mrs. Smith," he said this with such gentleness that I became as annoyed as my mother seemed charmed.

If I am not mistaken, my mother blushed as she corrected, "Miss. I'm Miss Smith and this is Greg."

"Oh Yes, nice to meet you Greg."

He ushered us over to a set of dark brown matching couches to the right of his office and offered us a drink. my mother and I both accepted water which he retrieved from his office refrigerator beneath his large black desk to the left of the room.

"So what shall we discuss today?" he asked more gently than his 'starboy' image suggested he was capable of. "When we spoke on the phone, Miss Smith, you mentioned that Greg here was having trouble readjusting to regular life since his accident."

Dr. Adams got right to the point. I appreciated that because I did not want to be here longer than I had to be.

"Yes," my mother confirmed. "I think he's healing physically but he keeps screaming out in his sleep as if he's being murdered. Once, I shook him for at least two minutes before he would wake up. When, he finally open his eyes, he was unable to get up and had even wet the bed."

I blushed and turned in my seat uncomfortably as she shared this part. Why was I here if she was just going to lay everything open on the table like that?

Dr. Abams said "hmmm" before turning to me to say something. Before he could, My mother's phone started to vibrating. disrupting the entire session. She had gotten a text message. He supervisor needed her right away.

"I'm sorry," she excused herself briskly. "I have to go to work now. Greg we talked about this. Let Dr. Adams help you. We'll talk later at home.

She apologized to the doctor a few more times before actually exiting the office.

The air in the room turned suffocatingly still in her absence. Dr. Adams had walked my mother to the door but now he sat silently staring as thought he was trying to read my mind. As his eyes met mine I felt weirdly relaxed as though I could trust him. Do they teach this a psychology school?

"Call me Carl. May I call you Greg.?

I knodded, vaguely considering his name did not suit his athletic image.

"Can you tell me what has been bothering you?"

Hesitation gripped me momentarily but the image of my mother's hopeful face as she left the office flashed within my mind and once again, I relaxed. The interrogation I will face later at home also played a part in my decision actually see if this doctor was worth my mother's hard earned money.

I told him everything. I told him abut Tiannah's disappearance. I described the nightmare I had just before waking up in the hospital months ago. I even told him about Trish and the night terrors that both she and Tiannah had been a part of. As I spoke, he made monosyllabic responses and jotted down things in his notebook periodically.

"...and all that happened within the last two months or so..." I finished my story and sighed.

I really am not sure how long I was talking for. He hardly got a word in.

"It sound's like you are trying to process a lot," was the first whole sentence he got out since I started blabbing.

On truth, I was feeling pretty alone lately and it was a relief to get all this off my chest.

"...so I'm totally normal and I don't need medication or anymore visits here...," I preempted.

Carl chuckled, "I see your sense of humour is in tact. But Greg, I would like to talk more about these dreams.

His home rang, interrupting him mid-speech. He excused himself politely and walked back to his great desk to pick up the phone.

"Thank you, Tabatha," he said looking a bit disappointed.

He came back and sat down in the couch opposite. Instead of sitting back like he ha been the whole time. Now he sat foward.

After apologizing for the interruption, he continued." I have a friend on the board of education for this area. If you don't mind, I would like to reach out to him to see what I can fond out about your missing friend Tiannah."

I accented with a nod.

"I think it is important since your nightmares started with her disappearance."

He checked his watch for the second time since he had received the phone call.

"It seems this is all the time we have for today, Greg. Before I can consider my initial evaluation complete, I'll have to do the research on Tiannah as promised. I'd like to see you next Friday. My office will call your mother to make the appointment.

I sprung up as soon as he was finished and half-run-limp to the door.

Carl's chuckle and solid resistance from the door stopped me in my tracks.

"That's the bathroom. The exit is this way," he said as he pointed. "Surely, our session wasn't that unpleasant."

He was still smiling understandingly. I was convinced he was holding his laughter.

I made my way equally swift to the exit making sure I made no eye-contact with anyone in the building. I was starting to feel a little, no, a lot self-conscious about baring my soul to a stranger."