Wind Blown ✔️

1. I am not crazy

There are not many things I know to be true. In fact, if I were to write an all-inclusive list of every truth I know then there would only be ten items, if it were structured with the most true at the beginning at the least true at the end then the first item would be; I am not crazy. Although, I might be soon if I have to stare at this blank sheet of notebook paper for another second.

"You can't think of anything?" Doctor Vix asked me, her tone was always inquisitive as if I were a mystery she were trying to solve, rather than a patient she was trying to fix.

"No," I replied simply, my gaze drifting from the sheet to her hard face. Her choppy blond hair was tucked neatly into a bun at the base of her skull, her blue eyes watching me from behind her thickly rimmed black glasses.

"You don't know anything to be true?" She asked, raising her eyebrows as she spoke. She always spoke as if she were talking to a bomb as if the wrong word could send me off the edge.

I pursed my chapped lips before turning back down to the sheet of paper and wrapping my skeletal fingers around the pen. I quickly scrawled ten items, dropping the pen noisily when I'd finished.

I pushed the paper toward her, she raised her eyebrows as she read the list, "'I am not crazy'," she quoted, turning her inquisitive gaze back up to me as she did so.

"I know that to be true," I replied, letting my gaze drift to the window where I could see Marine's blue Hyundai pulling into the parking lot.

"Of course you aren't, I've told you many times," The doctor continued, watching me carefully as if I'd jump at her.

I nodded as she spoke, "And I know it to be true."

She could hear the finality in my voice and turned around herself to look out the window, she must've noticed Marine's car because she turned back with a small smile, "Is that Marine?"

I nodded, "I better not keep her waiting."

Doctor Vix chuckled lightly at that and placed the paper back onto the desk, "I suppose," she began standing up and indicated for me to do the same, "I'll see you next week, Eric."

I rocketed out of my chair, grabbed the paper and walked as fast as my tired legs could allow down the hall and into the elevator. As soon as the heavy metal doors shut behind me I felt my body relax, the fear in my veins replaced with excitement at the prospect of seeing Marine. I folded up the list and pushed it into the pocket of my black jeans.

The first time I'd ever had to come here was still fresh in my mind, the white linoleum in the lobby triggering the long lost memory. I felt the image wash over me and suddenly I was at my first appointment.

My mother stood beside me, her dark brown hair pulled tight into a bun behind her head and the skin around her tired eyes hanging loosely. She looked at me anything but worried and all but shoved me in the direction of the doctor, "He needs urgent help," she muttered, leaning into Doctor Vix's ear but speaking loud enough so that I could still hear.

Doctor Vix had turned her interested gaze on me then, for the first time. And, initially, I thought that she'd be able to help. That all it would take was biweekly sessions of talking about my problems and I'd be cured.

Little did I know that it wasn't nearly that easy.

Doctor Vix had torn her gaze away from me and back to my mother who was watching her impatiently. Doctor Vix smiled kindly at my mother, almost trying to communicate that I'd be okay. Of course, she had no way of knowing that that was my mother's last concern.

"How much?" My mother asked, drumming her fingers on the small side table impatiently.

"Come again?" Doctor Vix asked, taken aback by my mother's brashness.

"How much will these sessions cost?" She amended, raising her eyebrows and nodding toward me.

"Uh, the price will be determined later. We'll send you an invoice," Doctor Vix explained, overcoming her initial shock and allowing the entirely forced smile to creep back onto her aged face.

My mother turned her gaze to me, "Fix him."

The chime of the elevator doors sliding open drew me back to the present, I practically ran out of the lobby and to Marine's car, wrenching the door open and falling into the well-worn fabric seat.

"I take it the session didn't go well?" Marine asked, securing her seatbelt.

"When does a session ever go well?"