letters to a ghost

5th therapy | friday

Mark Isaiah

Tapping my fingers on the arm of the chair I started to grow impatient. It's 15 minutes past the starting time of my session and Dr.Tal is late.

He's never late.

I was escorted into his office like usual except today he wasn't already waiting for me in his chair. After another few minutes passed I figured I might as well take this time to look around.

I've been in here once or twice every week for 4 years and never once have a I actually looked past Dr.Tal.

That's probably because he's always in here before me.

I walked towards the back of the room where his desk was. Lightly skimming my fingers along the top, until I reached a picture frame. I smiled softly to myself and picked it up.

It was Dr.Tal and a woman, I'm assuming it's the same woman he called honey last session, his wife.

Both of them were smiling and looking at each other, hands intertwined. They looked happy in the picture.

I never realized that Dr.Tal even had a wife until last session. I never realized until now that he was a person outside of this office.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when the door clicked shut and I heard someone cough behind me, "What are you doing?" It was him.

I sat the picture back down on his desk and walked towards my chair. "You were late, hope you don't mind." He kept his gaze on the picture before looking down and signing. "Let's get started. So Mark..."

He took his seat across from me.
Automatically I could tell something wasn't right.
I just couldn't place my finger on it.

He wasn't, normal.

He's usually so uptight and to the point, serious and dorky. Today he's slouched in his seat, his thumb fidgeting around the clicker of his pen, and his foot lightly tapping against the hard wood. Hair a mess, clothes disheveled, a wreck.

His pen is making the most annoying sound.

I'll ignore it for now.

"I went home." I finally killed the silence with my confession. He was bound to know at some point.

He perked up at my news and straighten himself in his seat, grabbing his clipboard off the coffee table he looked back to me to continue on.

"I went in her room." I deadpanned when he just scribbled down words instead of talking to me.

"I clung onto a stuffed cow like my life depended on it and bawled like a baby in the floor." I continued emotionless. "I knew something like that was bound to happen, but-" He cut me off.

"Why did you go then?" He didn't look up from his clipboard and still had his pen in hand.

"I thought I needed to."
"But you didn't want to?"
"You always tell me to do what I need to do not what I want to do. The fuck is wrong with you?" I snapped at him, slamming my hands down onto the coffee table causing him to jump slightly in his seat.

"I'm afraid that's all the time we have for today Mark."
"Bullshit we still have 20 minutes." I fired back.

"See you next Friday Mark."