Chapter 10: Eight - Sessions

Sessions

“Let’s start with the basics, okay?”

I looked away from the antique bookcase that I’d been staring at from the time I had taken a seat on the large, cushiony sofa in Dr. Michelson’s office. I had been admiring the young doctor’s taste in literature. Austin, Grisham, King, London, Proust, the Bard, Wordsworth, Wilde, Lehane... It was a very vast collection. I was tempted to get on his good side just so that I could peruse through his collection.

The minute he spoke, however, I dispelled that thought. I wasn’t going to play nice just because I wanted to get into some guy’s bookcase – no matter how appealing the novels on his shelf were.

“Basics?” I repeated, pulling my legs onto the sofa and adjusting them so that I sat crossed legged. “What do you mean?”

He azure eyes twinkled as he pulled a legal pad from a drawer in his desk and sat down in the stuffed armchair opposite me. Pulling a pen out from his shirt pocket, he tapped at the top of the page.

“Let’s start with your personal information, shall we?” he suggested with a smile. “What’s your full name?”

I felt my eyebrows rise on my forehead.

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked incredulously.

“Nope. I’m not.” He lifted his left leg to balance upon his right knee, his face completely serious.

As I might have mentioned, Dr. Darren was an extremely good-looking man. Sure he was a little short – around five-eight, if I had to guess – but those azure blue eyes, that lean yet muscular build, dimpled smile, and shiny, dark brown hair more than made up for that. It took a lot of mental strength for me to regain focus, tear my eyes away from him and think of a response.

“Isn’t it on my file?” I asked, indicating the slim file lying on the table beside him with a nod of my head.

The shadow of a smile played on his lips. “Just tell me.”

Rolling my eyes, I conceded. “Fine. It’s October Leigh Grimmes.”

Nodding, Dr. Michelson scribbled what I assumed was my name on his notepad. His face didn’t show any signs of surprise or intrigue. This was old news to him. I knew he’d read my file.

“When were you born?”

“Wha—?”

“Just answer the question.”

“December thirty-first.”

“Parent’s names?”

“Oh, for crying out loud. Did you lose my file or something?”

He chuckled; a loud, happy sound. “No, I didn’t. I just want to get the information from you.”

“Don’t worry. My parents didn’t lie on the forms. Everything in there’s the truth.”

He chuckled again, shaking his head this time. “I know that, October. It’s just a little exercise I practice with all my patients.”

“Well, it’s a complete waste of time. Aren’t we supposed to be discussing my childhood?” I asked, irritably, raising my eyebrows, challenging him. “Or even the accident.”

“We’ll get to that in a minute.” Damn. I’d reminded him. “Just humor me, okay?”

“Fine, Dr. Michelson. Have it your way.”

“Darren, please.” He corrected. “Dr. Michelson is my father.”

I rolled my eyes, feeling more and more irritated with each passing second. I wasn’t buying this whole Nice-Doctor act. Something was up. “Fine. Darren it is.”

He nodded, pleased. “Okay, so answer the question. What are your parents’ names?”

“Nina and Eli Grimmes.” I answered solemnly, trying to hide the bitterness in my tone when I said their names.

Dr. Michel—I mean, Darren— looked up from his notepad. “You sounded angry when you said their names, why?”

Ah, I thought, finally realizing what he was up to. He was trying to gauge my relationship with my parents from the way I spoke about them. Even I had to admit, it was a nice move – one that not many therapists used.

“It wasn’t anger.” I replied bluntly, not willing to give in so easily.

“Then what was it?”

I considered lying and wasting time, so that I could be out of there faster, but decided against it. Darren wasn’t Dr. Larkson. I shouldn’t treat him like her. “It was… hurt.”

‘Hurt?” He repeated curiously. “And why are you hurt?”

‘Because they just abandoned me in this dump!” I cried, slumping back against the soft cushions behind me. “They gave up on me and left me here.”

Sympathy flashed across his handsome features. “Now, October.” He crooned softly, leaning forwards in his arm chair to look me in the eyes. “Didn’t your parents try to help you on their own for years after the accident?”

I glared up at him, tears stinging in my eyes. “Yes.”

“Then why do you feel like they abandoned you? They didn’t give up on you, they were just searching for another way to help you get better.”

“Please.” I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest to glare at him defiantly. “They were so convinced that something was wrong with me and they got rid of me as soon as they could. They didn’t believe me when I said I wasn’t crazy. They believed all their friends and doctors and shipped me off here.”

Intrigue sparked in Darren’s eyes. “You don’t think there’s anything wrong with you?”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes in exasperation. “Of course I don’t. I’m just your regular, albeit slightly wacky, seventeen year-old who’s been diagnosed with schizophrenia.”

He chuckled. “I don’t really think that constitutes as ‘regular’, but I understand what you mean.”

I cocked my head to the side. His tone suggested that there was something he was not saying. “Okay Darren, be straight with me.” I uncrossed my legs and stretched them out in front of me, scooting over to the edge of the sofa so that I could study Darren’s expression carefully. “Do you think I have Schizophrenia?”

His dark blue eyes gazed at me seriously, as if he was unsure if he could trust me not to freak out over what he said next. “I’m not really sure.”

“Yes or no, Doc?” I asked, raising an eyebrow to challenge him.

He sighed in defeat.

“No. No, I don’t think you’re Schizophrenic.” I straightened up in my seat, feeling as if someone had pulled a bag of cinderblocks off my shoulders. My therapist didn’t think I was crazy. Could I get a Hallelujah?

“You don’t?!” I nearly leapt off the sofa in excitement. He didn’t think I was nuts! He didn’t think I was nuts! I actually had a chance of getting out of this God forsaken place!

“Not at the moment, I don’t.”

I slumped back into my seat, my smile disappearing quicker than a flash. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” He started, scratching his head nervously as he shuffled through a sheaf of papers. “After going through Dr. Larkson’s notes last night, I realized that you weren’t really showing more than a handful of symptoms to even be diagnosed with Schizophrenia. I could be wrong. Maybe you really are schizophrenic and I’m just not seeing the signs yet.”

“But right now, you think I don’t have it?”

He sighed, nodding. “No, I don’t.”

My smile reappeared as I glanced at the clock on the wall. My time was up.

“Well, that’s good enough for me Doc.” I rose from my seat and gave Darren a little wave. “I guess my time’s up now, so… I guess we’ll have to pick up again tomorrow.” I glanced at the door, eager to get back to my book.

I’d trotted over to the door and cracked it open before he replied. “Um, October?”

“Yeah?”

“Sit down.”

I closed the door and turned to face Darren, “What? Why? My hour’s over.”

He grinned. “If I remember right, you walked out on your last session and told Dr. Larkson to add the remaining time to your next session.” His smile widened when he saw the sheepish look that flashed across my face. “We’ve got fifteen more minutes. Sit.”

I couldn’t walk out again because the fifteen minutes would have just got transferred to my next session. So I did the only thing I could do.

I sat.