Withering You

Noah

It's Thursday. I visit the tailor with my mom. Since Saige and Laura weren't coming I refused to do any alterations to the coat but mom wouldn't have any of it. Mom had dragged me out of my bed the first thing after she had come from work.

I stood sulking as the tailor took my measurements. I let mom and the tailor fuss around me.

"So your son studies in the school where that girl committed suicide?" The tailor, an old man asks. Mom looks up at me, probably to assess my reaction.

"Yes, sir," I say. If it was someone else I would have snapped at them but this old man looked sad. He gives out a heavy sigh.

"Kids these days," he shakes his head.

"You knew her?" I ask out of curiosity.

"My son he-"

Mom's phone rings. I look at the tailor. His son, what?

"I need to answer this," mom says, looking at the phone, "I'll go answer."

I don't wait till mom leaves.

"Yes, sir. Your son?"

The old man gives a chuckle, "You kids are curious as the cats. Always wanting to listen to stories. My grandkids are the same-"

"Sir, your son knows about the girl who committed suicide?" I prod him. I don't want to seem rude but I need to hear what he has to say before mom comes in.

"Yes. He was her psychologist doctor. My son is a psychologist," the old man says with a proud smile a parent would have when talking about the achievements of their kids.

I stare at his smile. Not able to blink. You visited a psychologist? It's no big deal even if you had.  Then why am I feeling agitated?

"Can you raise your hand up, son?" He asks me.

I do as I'm told in a haze. You hadn't mentioned anything about a psychologist in your diary. Maybe the book was burnt before- stop this. Stop this, Noah. I should stop finding excuses for you.

"You know the girl?" he asks. I snap out of my haze.

"Yeah," as an afterthought, I add, "she was my girlfriend," I lie, praying mom doesn't come in now. "I would like it if you don't mention this to my mom, sir. You know," I shrug my shoulders, giving a weak laugh.

"Uh. Yeah," he gives out a laugh too, "I know how moms are. My wife was out of the roof when she got to know about my son-"

"May I know where your son would be? I need to talk to him about my girlfriend," I say interrupting him. I sounded hurt so that he would come around. It's not easy getting information out of a psychologist but I can use his father to butter him up. The old man looks disturbed, maybe he's having second thoughts. I can't have that.

"My girlfriend never mentioned about a psychologist before, it would mean a lot if you can arrange a meeting with your son. I would owe you forever, sir." I say looking at the old man closely. He still seemed to be in doubt. "I still miss her, sir. To me she is still living. Please, it would help me a lot if I can know what she was going through. Please can you ask your son to talk to me?" I force some tears out. The old man looks away. I'm probably making him awkward but I have no other option.

"Fine. I'll ask him to talk to you." The man says giving out a sigh. He walks around to his table to get me a card. "My number is in there," he points with his wrinkled finger, "call me in the evening tomorrow. I'll let you know what my son says. Remember, I can't guarantee you that he will talk to you. I'll only tell him about you and only if he agrees will you be able to talk to him, understand?"

I nod feeling happy, "Please, don't tell anything to my mom."

He nods. I hear mom entering. I hastily dry my face with my shoulders and put the card the man had given me inside my trousers pocket.

* * *

On Friday evening, I made the call. I am feeling highly strung. The tailor's name is Swarovski, I saw it in his card, I hope he gives me the response I'm looking forward to. 

"Hello? Swarovski tailoring. How may I help you?"

"Mr Swarovski, it's me. Yesterday I had come with my mom. I had asked to talk to your son," I explain.

"I remember. My son is only free on Sunday. Is it fine for you?" He asks.

"You mean he will see me?" I smile widely.

"Yeah, isn't that what you wanted?" Mr Swarovski says, his line cracking slightly. I hear background noises from his side, "yeah. I'll come back. Give me a moment," he was talking to someone on his side.
"Do you have a pen, son? Note down the address and his name."

I quickly scramble out of my bed to grab a pen and a paper, "I've got it, sir. Tell me."

The doctor's name is Jeremiah Swarovski. I am to meet him at his building.