mean he's finished?"
The receptionist, half-surprised at the interruption of her duties, said, "He'll be out in a minute," her smile was thin. "You can't beat some nice foliage to brighten a place up can you?" she added as an afterthought.
"No, you can't," she said, putting the magazine back onto the table. She pointed at the lights outside Ryan's door. "They're like traffic lights, I suppose . . ." She observed from the name displayed on the counter top that the receptionist's name was Penny.
"Sorry?" Penny said, "Oh no, not quite; there's no amber, you see? Just stop or go. I'll let you in on a little secret," Penny whispered, beckoning her closer. "He had that put in after I walked in once while he was treating a lady." She winked theatrically. "When he's with a patient, he doesn't like to be disturbed, if you know what I mean."
The casual way Penny breached Ryan's confidentiality bothered Mrs Milowski. The two women eyed each other briefly; Penny was about to speak when the door opened, and Ryan brought Bruce out. They shook hands. The firmness of the boy's grip surprised the psychiatrist, crushing his arthritic finger. He winced.
On the way back to the station, she tentatively started a conversation, without expecting much in return. She'd grown accustomed to his silences. "So, how did it go?"
"He's a really nice bloke, Mum. It wasn't what I thought it would be, although he did try to hypnotise me, and I wasn't having any of that."
Mrs Milowski couldn't hide her surprise. "He tried to hypnotise you? He never said he was going to do that . . ."
"It doesn't matter. He tried, but he didn't."
She gauged her voice so that it sounded normal; a little scared of what his reaction might be. "What did you talk about?"
He frowned; suddenly he couldn't remember much about the session at all. "Not a lot, just . . . Mum can we leave it for now?"
"Not a lot… Bruce, you were in there for over two hours! You must have talked about lots of things."
"Mum!" he said firmly. "I've just had hours of soul-baring or whatever; I can't remember. Right now I feel drained," The crease in his forehead deepened. "Although I do remember something . . . he wanted to know why I threw my seashell to Chris."
Chris Brookes, one of the dead boys - this was a new development. When she'd realised his shell was missing - he'd treasured it since he was a small boy as if his life depended on it – she'd asked him where it was. He'd flown into a rage. Choosing her words carefully now, she asked, " Why did you throw it at him? Did you tell the doctor?"
He gawped at her blankly. "I . . . can't remember."
She decided not to press him further.
Once on the train, she checked the consent paperwork she'd signed, and though she couldn't remember specifically seeing it, there it was. Some treatments may involve the use of hypnotherapy.
If she'd seen that before, she wouldn't have signed. Hypnotherapy was a form of treatment she frowned on. She didn't agree with messing with people's minds. Sitting back in her seat, she smiled. It was the longest talk she'd had with him since the accident.
Chapter 20
By the time they returned to doctor Ryan's the following week, Mrs Milowski had realised that, despite the initial improvement, the effects of the last visit were just temporary, diminishing progressively, with her son returning completely to his post-traumatic sullen self, after only four days.
They sat quietly in the waiting room. The green light was on when they'd first arrived. It had just started to irritate her that they'd gone five minutes past their appointment time, when the door opened, and the psychiatrist bounded out cheerfully. "Mrs Milowski, Bruce. How are we today?" He made no apology for his lateness.
"Doctor, please call me Ellen, it's a lot easier."
This informal suggestion triggered a scowl from Penny and seeing it; Ellen suddenly realised the receptionist thought she was flirting, and went red with embarrassment.
The receptionist, half-surprised at the interruption of her duties, said, "He'll be out in a minute," her smile was thin. "You can't beat some nice foliage to brighten a place up can you?" she added as an afterthought.
"No, you can't," she said, putting the magazine back onto the table. She pointed at the lights outside Ryan's door. "They're like traffic lights, I suppose . . ." She observed from the name displayed on the counter top that the receptionist's name was Penny.
"Sorry?" Penny said, "Oh no, not quite; there's no amber, you see? Just stop or go. I'll let you in on a little secret," Penny whispered, beckoning her closer. "He had that put in after I walked in once while he was treating a lady." She winked theatrically. "When he's with a patient, he doesn't like to be disturbed, if you know what I mean."
The casual way Penny breached Ryan's confidentiality bothered Mrs Milowski. The two women eyed each other briefly; Penny was about to speak when the door opened, and Ryan brought Bruce out. They shook hands. The firmness of the boy's grip surprised the psychiatrist, crushing his arthritic finger. He winced.
On the way back to the station, she tentatively started a conversation, without expecting much in return. She'd grown accustomed to his silences. "So, how did it go?"
"He's a really nice bloke, Mum. It wasn't what I thought it would be, although he did try to hypnotise me, and I wasn't having any of that."
Mrs Milowski couldn't hide her surprise. "He tried to hypnotise you? He never said he was going to do that . . ."
"It doesn't matter. He tried, but he didn't."
She gauged her voice so that it sounded normal; a little scared of what his reaction might be. "What did you talk about?"
He frowned; suddenly he couldn't remember much about the session at all. "Not a lot, just . . . Mum can we leave it for now?"
"Not a lot… Bruce, you were in there for over two hours! You must have talked about lots of things."
"Mum!" he said firmly. "I've just had hours of soul-baring or whatever; I can't remember. Right now I feel drained," The crease in his forehead deepened. "Although I do remember something . . . he wanted to know why I threw my seashell to Chris."
Chris Brookes, one of the dead boys - this was a new development. When she'd realised his shell was missing - he'd treasured it since he was a small boy as if his life depended on it – she'd asked him where it was. He'd flown into a rage. Choosing her words carefully now, she asked, " Why did you throw it at him? Did you tell the doctor?"
He gawped at her blankly. "I . . . can't remember."
She decided not to press him further.
Once on the train, she checked the consent paperwork she'd signed, and though she couldn't remember specifically seeing it, there it was. Some treatments may involve the use of hypnotherapy.
If she'd seen that before, she wouldn't have signed. Hypnotherapy was a form of treatment she frowned on. She didn't agree with messing with people's minds. Sitting back in her seat, she smiled. It was the longest talk she'd had with him since the accident.
Chapter 20
By the time they returned to doctor Ryan's the following week, Mrs Milowski had realised that, despite the initial improvement, the effects of the last visit were just temporary, diminishing progressively, with her son returning completely to his post-traumatic sullen self, after only four days.
They sat quietly in the waiting room. The green light was on when they'd first arrived. It had just started to irritate her that they'd gone five minutes past their appointment time, when the door opened, and the psychiatrist bounded out cheerfully. "Mrs Milowski, Bruce. How are we today?" He made no apology for his lateness.
"Doctor, please call me Ellen, it's a lot easier."
This informal suggestion triggered a scowl from Penny and seeing it; Ellen suddenly realised the receptionist thought she was flirting, and went red with embarrassment.
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