I had to make the question count. I sat back and considered. Looking into her somber eyes, it came to me. “What do you dream of doing with your life?”
She snorted. “Besides ruling the Underworld, you mean?”
“No. A true answer. No hiding behind sarcasm today.”
She looked tame again, and I felt stripped bare by her gaze. Too old a look for someone so young. “I want to open a bookstore.”
She wouldn’t meet my eyes now, as if I’d mock her, or belittle her.
“So all those books in your room aren’t just for decoration then?”
That earned me a tentative smile which felt like a victory. “Go on. Your turn.”
A wicked smile curved across her lips. Oh shit. She’s a patient. She’s a patient. She’s a patient.
“Have you touched yourself thinking about me yet?”
Patient. Transference. Set boundaries. My training cascaded in my head. Was it transference if we’d been intimate before the doctor/patient relationship? Shit.
“You can’t lie,” she reminded me.
I sat back in the chair. More distance, any distance. “I don’t need to lie. I have not done that.”
She chuckled. “Careful Freud, your sexual repression is showing.”
“I’m not lying.”
She pushed out of the chair. “No, I’m my mother’s daughter. I can tell when someone is lying. You didn’t lie, but I can tell by your answer, and the way you tensed when I asked, you haven’t touched yourself. But you’ve wanted to.”
“You’re a patient.” I looked up at her trying to make her understand.
She leaned down, her face so close, the scent of toothpaste hitting me. “And you’re a good man.”
A good man wouldn’t be itching to pull her onto my lap and let her feel my opinion on her asking about my masturbatory practices.
She pulled away. “I think time’s up today. Don’t you have other patients to interrogate.”
That brought me back to reality. I stocked now forcing her back. “Actually, I don’t. It would seem you are my only patient for a while. At least, that’s what the trustees made clear when they took me to lunch yesterday. The other couple of people in the ward are merely here for long term care.”
“Oh good, so I have you all too myself.”
The tension fizzled, and I opened the door. “Let me walk you back to your books. And probably lunch.”
We remained silent until we made it to the room. “Find me yourself if you want to talk about anything.”
She met my eyes. “The only thing I want to talk about next time is how I can make you believe me.”
I considered her words, and she added, “If you ask me anymore questions about paranoia, we are going to have a real problem.”
Chapter Five
Kory
Was it a real surprise he didn’t believe a word I said? What really hurt was his quick jump to paranoid personality disorder. I thought our time in his back seat would earn me some good will. It would seem my doctor only felt guilt about it.
I sat on my bed, half a peanut butter sandwich clutched in one hand. The Count in the other. I scanned the page and read aloud to myself. “It’s necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live.”
I closed the book and set my sandwich on the small tray. Story of my fucking life.
