"It fell out."
- what fell out?
"Her hair. I ran my hands through her hair, and a chunk of her hair fell. It whirled down into the dirt."
"Do you think she has cancer?"
Of course, he called my mother when I missed another session. So, half-drunk she drove me to the big buildings and walked me all the way to his door. Sat me on his soft chair, and told me that she was doing this for me.
I'm too selfish.
- You said she was skinny?
I nodded, remembering her armor.
- Like bones sticking out skinny?
I rubbed the back of my neck.
"Yea."
- I don't think she has cancer.
He leaned back in his leather seat.
"Then why the hell did a piece of her hair fall out?"
- Did she talk to you about being too fat or not wanting to eat or maybe people bullying her for her weight?
"Yea. Said when she was fifteen she wasn't skinny enough to fit in a dress. Said she couldn't eat but she wanted to."
- She needs help, Greyson.
My eyes widened.
"What's wrong with her?"
- She most likely has an eating disorder or anorexia.
I gaped at him.
"What do I do?"
- Why don't you ask her to come with you to therapy?
"She won't want to."
- Just ask her. See what she says.
I gulped and nodded.
Poor Iris.
She was never fat. She's always so pretty.
"Is there anything else I could do for her?"
- Try to encourage her, bring up her self esteem always tell her how beautiful you think she is. Tell her she needs to stop. It won't help much, though. People with eating disorders often won't listen to anyone else. Just bring her in. Anorexia or bulimia or whichever eating disorder she has isn't only a disorder of the body, but it's more of the mind.
I could only nod.
- She could die, Greyson. She needs help, you should bring her in. Just try to convince her to come at least once.
"Okay."
When I had came in he asked me why I hadn't came for the last two sessions. I told him it was because of a girl. With black hair. A cigarette. And a mustard yellow dress.
He said he believed me.
Asked me what her name was.
I replied Iris.
I-risss.
I don't think he believed me.
I think the only reason he wants her to come in, is to see if she's real.
She's real.
Hah, I would show him.
- Greyson?
"Sorry, what?"
- Let's talk about your parents.
"Okay."
- Do you like them?
"I don't know. I guess."
- What's the best memory you have of them?
"I don't really have any fond memories of them...
together."
- Okay, how about separately?
I scratched my head and thought.
"Well, the best memory of my mom was when I was little."
- Hmm.
"Same goes for my dad."
- What's the memory of your mom?
"My favorite memory of her was when I was really little. Like four or five, and we'd walk around the gardens. Like you know, the rich side of town? We used to love walking through the flowers and old cottages wrapped in vines, and mini forests and parks. I liked that memory a lot."
- How about your dad?
"I think I was six years old. We'd taken a family trip to Disneyland, in Florida. And I remember my dad just carrying me on his shoulders while I gripped his head. I don't even remember what we were doing, I think we were just walking around. But that was my favorite memory of him."
"Actually. I do have one memory of them together. It's small, though."
- What was it?
"We were in the car, on a road trip. I was like ten years old. Two years before their divorce. Anyhow, we were in the car and some oldies song was playing on the radio. The windows were rolled down and the wind was flying through the car. And it was almost sunset too, so the sun was pouring into the car and casting pretty shadows across our faces."
I stopped and smiled.
"My dad was driving and my mom was sitting shotgun next to him. So my dad grabs my moms hand, while we're driving into the sun, and he holds it gently. So my mom looks over at him. And it was on an open road and the air smelt really good and crisp because we were in the country. And they hold each others gaze for not more than two seconds, but they're both smiling."
"They're smiling at each other with this smile. I don't think I've seen it too many times on their faces. It was a pretty smile. And when they did that, it made me feel so happy I wanted to cry."
I looked over at him and he was smiling, as well.
- Most people's memories of their parents are extravagant things they got for their birthdays or parties or something like that. It says a lot about your character, how your fond memories are small and insignificant. Yet, they hold so much significance to you.
I felt happy again.
- Nice chat, Greyson. My door is always open.
"Bye."
