His Little Heart

Starting Over

^

The rest of our session together was spent in total silence. Unlike past sessions, where I was more than happy to soak in the silence between us, I felt like the silence in the room wasn't suppose to be there this time.

I didn't want it to be there. I wanted some kind of noise to fill the room, the sound of Dr. Hiddleston's note-taking doing little to provide any sort of background ambience that I was comfortable with. It was a sad sound, his pen on paper, as he noted down more about me, adding more to my condition. I didn't want to hear it, but at the same time, I couldn't just take his clipboard away.

While I sat and fidgeted in my chair, Dr. Hiddleston seemed to enjoy the silence, at complete ease, soaking it in. Every once in a while, he'd glance up from his clipboard. His sight would fall on me, watching me mindfully to see if I'd speak and end this terrible silent game between us. I dodged his eye each time, taking interest in the floor, and a few seconds later, the sound of pen on paper would pick up again. Again, how I desperately wanted to rip his clipboard out his hands.

Eventually, our session, thank the heavens, ended. Tucking his clipboard away and pocketing his pen, Dr. Hiddleston rose from his chair. I immediately followed his white coat out of the room, thankful he didn't take my hand again.

Quietly, I trekked after him as he guided me down the corridor and to the elevator. Up we went, and then we were heading down the hallway and turning the corner that took me to my room. He let me enter, and giving me a kind grin, said, "I'll have some water brought up. Be good. I'll see you later."

He closed my door, and already on my bed, my knees drawn to my chest, I listened as he retreated, his footsteps fading away and back down the corridor. A couple minutes later, I heard another set of footsteps, and after a gentle knock, a nurse poked his head through. I easily recognized him as Louis.

"Hey, there," he greeted warmly. "I've got you some water. Can I come in?" I gave him a curt nod, and beaming, he came in closer. I watched as he placed a container and cup down at my desk.

"Thank you," I murmured.

"Of course, dear," he smiled.

Telling me to holler if I needed anything else and he'd be just down the hall, he left me to my solitude. I listened as his footsteps retreated, and once I was sure he was gone, I got up to pour myself some water. Savoring the cool liquid, I poured myself another cup before going to stare out the window.

It was a nice day out, not a cloud in sight. The sun shone brightly, warming the earth below, and peering further through the window, I caught the outskirts of what had to be the main hospital. It looked to be an impressive building, large and beautiful, and modern looking. Glancing downward, I watched as small figures entered and exited the building, some in scrubs, others in white doctor coats.

For awhile, I entertained myself with people watching. I started a tally in my head, counting how many nurses and doctors I saw. I had hoped to see the familiar scrubs of Harry appear at some point, wishing he'd leave his duties early there and come back. Then, as soon as he was here, I could finally relax again.

My thoughts having shifted, I left the window and, not really thinking of what I was doing, started walking the length of the small room. To the window and wall and back, I went, my thoughts swirling.

I had many things to think about and ponder. I first pondered why I was here, going back to Dr. Hiddleston's words on my anxiety. I was here because of that, and because of that, needed help and treatment. Scared and frightened, and a smidge stubborn, the help Dr. Hiddleston had tried giving me went up in flames. Now, whatever game plan he'd had had to be reconsidered, thus prolonging my stay and treatment.