Westbrooke

1. June 17th

June has always been the most tumultuous month of any year for Peter Louis Laurence. He wasn't sure why this was so; for what reason God decided to arrange life-changing events in just one month of the year evaded him. Most things evaded his understanding, but this was an often contemplated question he would appreciate answered.

It was difficult to keep track of time in the Hospital, as he knew it, until he started receiving the privilege of tutoring from Dr Dianne. From what he gathered, Dr Dianne wasn't required to educate him by any means; their sessions were previously dedicated to the discussion of a topic he didn't like to think about, but due to his continual avoidance of the subject she apparently had given up and decided instead to attempt to make him more literate to some degree. He didn't mind this, as he enjoyed reading about planes and things.

Although she had a certificate on the wall deeming herself a doctor by educational stature, Peter couldn't once recall her wearing a stethoscope or checking his temperature. He thought of this as he sat across from her in her office whilst the not-medical doctor thumbed through the journal he was required to write in and relinquish to her every Monday. There weren't any guidelines on what he was meant to write, so he could only guess what the exercise was supposed to accomplish.

"Peter," she began in her careful voice, setting the spiral notebook aside so she would be giving her full attention. He was aware that she talked to him in a different voice compared to how she spoke to Dr Anderson and Mr McCarthy, but the reasoning behind this was over his head. It wasn't anything condescending or mean, just prudent, as if she may accidentally say the wrong thing at any moment causing him to break down completely. "You stated in your journal entry from yesterday that you're not sure how I qualify as a doctor."

"Yes ma'am."

"To answer your question, I am not a doctor of medicine. There are different types of doctors, did you know?"

"No ma'am." He observed her with wide eyes, interested in what other types of doctors possibly did. The woman tapped her pen on the desk, allowing for a brief moment of silence to take place in their conversation. She tended to talk slowly and pause plenty during their sessions, making the time they spent together feel like forever until he left and found later it barely felt like any time at all.

"I'm a psychologist, Peter. Psychologists are meant to help you feel better. How do you feel today?"

"Okay," he answered airily, directing his gaze to the carpeted floor. He didn't intend to start examining the design of the rug on his psychologist's floor today, but it was distracting when he paid it attention. 

"It's your birthday soon, isn't it? This Wednesday?"

Peter didn't realize it was, but his stomach twisted at the news. 

"It's not your birthday?" She asked, noting his head shake. "The seventeenth of June? Then I must have the wrong information here."

"It is, I guess," he frowned.

She folded her hands and gave the boy a patient but intense expression. Dr Dianne was a nice lady, but she could be downright serious sometimes. It unsettled him, which was why he adjusted nervously in his seat as she didn't break eye contact.

"I like your hair, Miss. It's real neat, um, up like that. Like a thing'a yarn."

"How far are you in your book?"

"I dunno, a few pages or some'n." 

"You haven't even started? Peter, it's a good book."

"There ain't any pictures in it." The aforementioned book is called The Girl Who Could Fly, and had a picture of a pretty redhead girl on the cover who was, as the title suggested, flying. The cover art was nice, but a red herring to the rest of the book as when he flipped through the pages it only contained words.

"That's the entire point I gave it to you. There are excellent books out there that happen to not have pictures in them, and this one should be adequate for your reading level."

"Huh?"

"It shouldn't be too hard for you to read. Just try it. If it's too difficult then I'll give you something else. Deal?"

"About Boeing Stearmans?"

"Sure, Peter."

He smiled pleasantly at the prospect of adding yet another biplane book to his collection. "About 10,000're made startin' in 1934. I'm gonna learn how to fly when I'm seventeen."

Dr Dianne neglected to provide an answer as she tilted her head down while looking for something in her desk drawer. "I forgot to give this to you last week." She held out a stack of paper, and after he received it she gave him a pack of crayons to go with it. "So you're not drawing your planes in the margins of your notebook which is strictly dedicated to writing, understand?"

Peter's expression only brightened at the gifts, and he would have given Dr Dianne a hug or something likewise if a desk and her professional attitude were not separating them.

"Thanks Miss."

"Have a good afternoon."