Safe Haven | Demi Lovato

3

Demi

          Just as I finished speaking, Wilmer walked in accompanied by Emily.

"Oh! Dr. Lovato! I was just about to head over to your office with these two."

I stood up, "Perfect. I'll be speaking to you, Mr. Valderrama, first, and then you, Mia. Then I'll bring both of you in to discuss some things. Okay?"

Both of them nodded and as we walked to my office I let Emily and I fall behind a little, "What would you like me to do with Wilmer while you and Mia are talking?"

I took a deep breath, "I don't know yet to do with Mr. Valderrama but in the meantime... I would like to remind you that as a high-risk patient on the first day, we do not leave Mia by herself in a room. I don't care if there are piles of paperwork, she cannot be alone. Is that clear?"

Her eyes widened and she nodded quickly, "I'm sorry, I wasn't even thinking."

I nodded, "Just be sure that I don't find her alone like that again until I give the okay."

Emily's head was bobbing up and down nervously the entire time I was speaking, "I won't."

We reached my office and I put on a smile at Wilmer, "Right this way Mr. Valderrama." I shut the door behind me and him and turned around, "Let's get this started..."

He sighed, "Can we establish the fact that you can call me Wilmer? I'm not trying to hit on you or anything I swear, I just prefer it."

I took a deep breath, "Fine, but outside of this office you are Mr. Valderrama."

He nodded solemnly, "Professional."

"Exactly." I smirked at him, "But we're here to talk about Mia... When was the first time you noticed a change in her behavior?"

Wilmer closed his eyes and suddenly his face slumped, "It was two weeks after her sixth birthday. I found her in the bathroom trying to open a bottle of her mom's prescription anti-depressants. When I took them away from her Mia started screaming at me saying she hated me and that she wanted to be just like mommy. From then on, it was down hill I guess. I noticed something major was off when she was around twelve, but didn't figure it out until she was thirteen, and had to get her stomach pumped from swallowing a bottle of advil. She wrote a note saying she was going to her mom. When she was fifteen, she passed out in school, and when she was in the hospital they told me she stopped eating months ago, barely enough to keep her alive and that it was a miracle she's still breathing. We got her a therapist... it was working, until I found her at sixteen with her fingers down her throat." He broke off and closed his eyes, "Then last week was the final straw. It was late, and she snuck in past curfew. I came into her room and she had slit her wrists."

I wrote everything down, trying to keep my voice even and my hand from shaking, "Did your wife have any mental disorders besides the depression that you know of? Did she ever stay in a rehab facility or see a therapist?"

Wilmer chuckled, the sound not matching his expression, "Uh yeah, she was bipolar, alcoholic, and a drug-addict. I didn't find out about half of it until they found high amount of heroin and cocaine in her system when they did the autopsy. And depressed, but you knew that." He met my gaze as my mouth fell open a bit and shrugged, "Can't help who you fall in love with."

I grimaced, "You certainly can't... So there were rehab stays?"

"Several." He bit his lip, "And they were all here."

My head snapped up, "Wilmer what was your wife's name?"

"Isabella... why?"

I swallowed hard, "Mr. Valderrama... your wife was my roommate here when I was eighteen."

His mouth dropped open and we stared at each other for a few seconds, "Demi?"

My face flushed, "No one has called me that in a long time, I go by Devonne now, my middle name,"

He nodded, still clearly in shock, "Wow. I can't believe it's you. Isabella talked about you all the time."

I bowed my head, "I understand if you want to pass you daughter's treatment off to another doctor and I'd be happy to set that up-"

"What?" He interrupted, "Why would I want to do that?"

I shrugged, "Most people want a doctor that won't get emotional at the things Mia says... I can't promise you that. I loved Isabella too.

Wilmer smiled and shook his head, "You've obviously overcome a lot. Isabella told me a lot about you, she said you were one of the strongest, most inspiring people in there. If anyone is going to get through to Mia, it's you. Just... Don't tell her yet. In a few months, if she's doing better, we can tell her. But I don't want it to make her shut down."

I nodded, "I'll respect that... You should know that Isabella spoke about you a lot too. I asked her if she was worried about you cheating on her while she was in here since I was in a relationship too, but she told me I was crazy. She said your love was something nothing would ever touch, or taint. That is was unbreakable."

Wilmer laughed, but his eyes tightened in pain, "She's right."

I cocked my head, "So, you've never thought about dating?"

A crease formed in-between his eyes as he furrowed his brow and I fought the unexplainable urge to press it flat with my fingertip, and try to take his stress away. "I don't really know. I haven't had time to think about it, with everything going on with Mia. I mean, what kind of woman can handle that? My family is too broken for any additions."

I felt terrible for him, even from just the few moments I had with him I knew he was an amazing guy. And if what Isabella used to say to me was true, anyone would be praying to God to find someone like him, "Your family isn't broken Wilmer. It's just a little bruised. You're not damaged, anyone would be lucky to have you."

His eyes flickered, "Even you?"

My break caught, "I'm afraid that would be unethical, and unprofessional." His gaze dropped, "But... yes. Even me."

He smirked at bit, "Unprofessional."

I smiled, "Exactly."

He nodded and glanced around the room, "But you're single."

My grip on the pen tightened, "How do you know that?"

Wilmer nodded to my hand, "You don't wear a ring, and you don't have any personal pictures. Surely even a boyfriend would make a spot of the shelf?"

I shrugged, "I don't openly share my personal life. I work with the mentally ill, it's potentially dangerous."

He nodded, then put his hands up, "Isn't this supposed to be a discussion about Mia? I don't need a therapy session."

I rolled my eyes slightly, "The first hour is on the house."

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-Rachel