Paper Cranes

Secrets

"Thanks for coming in today to meet with me." Dr. Chelle shakes my hand and I just nod. It's been a hell of a long hour here, especially since I don't talk. Dr. Chelle just thinks that I may have PTSD and don't talk because of a traumatic event, such as the death of a friend or loved one I was close with, also part of the "depression" I am suffering. I let go of his hand and start to walk out, "Tell your mom to call if she wants to schedule another session or set a permanent time." I take one last look at Dr. Chelle, his rectangle glasses, wiry and wild grey hair, and white coat make him seem like a mad scientist. In fact, he almost resembles Albert Einstein. He's somewhat short and stocky like Albert too. I walk out of the office and text my mom,

I am never again going back to therapy with Albert Einstein...minus the smarts.

- What are you talking about sweetie, I called to schedule another session and he told me this one went great.

I just got out and you scheduled another one?! You said if I didn't like it I wouldn't have to go back. EVER.

- Dr. Chelle told me he thinks you don't talk because of PTSD. I just told him you've been speechless since birth. He also said you seem clinically depressed, and have also developed a slight eating disorder because your weight has gone down significantly. That's probably from the last four days without food, and you weigh less than you did six months ago.

Is it such a bad thing that I weigh less?! And I am not depressed, I didn't want to deal with the news reporters only covering Abigale's death mom.

-See! This is why I'm concerned. You think it's a good thing that you lost weight. End of discussion, you are going back again next week Tuesday at ten o'clock, during..whatever class you have then, to meet with Dr. Chelle.

Whatever he's still stupid Albert Einstein to me. And I thought he was a therapist, aren't they just to talk to and not give a medical diagnosis?

-He's a psychiatrist sweetie.

I groan and toss my phone into the passenger seat. Pulling out of the lot I decide to take a right and quickly grab a mango pineapple smoothie from Stella's Salon and Shoppe, a quaint little shop on the other side of town near school. I decide for just a quick stop and pull around to go through the one-window-drive-through.

One mango pineapple smoothie please. I write on the notepad, people around here don't really like not being talked to, it's strange.

"That will be $1.59 please." I hand the person who runs the window a two dollar bill and she gives me my change in return. Then I focus my eyes on the television screen behind her and try to listen and see why Miguel wants to shoot Cindy's brother. Then it happens, "No Cindy! You don't understand Robe-We interrupt this program with breaking news, the official cause of death in the case of Abigale Hudgens has been determined. Police have investigated and wanted to put the rumors of her murder to rest. Abigale Hudgens was not murdered by anyone, but they deemed the cause of death impa-"

I stopped listening, grabbed my smoothie from the girl the moment she turned toward me to say in an overly cheery voice, "Have a great day," and sped away. This was complete and utter torture. Four days and the news still had nothing better to cover than the death of my best friend.