approval to enter. I walk in and automatically start to scan the room for my patient. I find Alison Harper, lying in the bed, on her side, and staring vacantly out the window.
“Good evening, Mrs. Harper, how are you this evening?”
Alison doesn’t answer. I don’t even know if she’s even aware of my presence. Her eyes are vacant and void of life as she continues to stare outside. If I hadn’t seen the rise and fall of her chest, I might have been concerned that she had passed.
Fuck, call me heartless, but I just can’t deal with this shit right now.
“Mrs. Harper?” I push, walking over and standing in front of her, effectively blocking her view of the forest behind the hospital.
“You need to talk to me, Mrs. Harper. As your doctor, I need to know where your state of mind is at.”
“You don’t have children, do you Doctor Green?” she sneers.
Her question completely catching me off guard. Alison and I have been lucky to have shared four words between us. Anger starts to rise to the surface at her assumption. I close my eyes and count to ten, praying for the calm that I need. I need to be professional, so saying what is on my mind right now isn’t the right thing to do. I’m likely to rip her a new asshole and say a lot of things that I won’t be able to take back. The truth starts to bubble in my subconscious, pushing up to the surface. What the fuck? No, I will not go there right now. My mind starts to think about bright green eyes and my mind calms. I take a deep breath and try to find an answer that won’t agitate her even more.
“No, I do not, Mrs. Harper,” I mumble, my voice shaking with pent up emotion.
“For fuck’s sake, call me Alison. That’s the biggest assumption of all, you all think I’m married.” Her angelic face twists in agitation and anger. Alison squints her eyes and glowers at me. I have to smother the smile that threatens to break out across my face, by biting the inside of my mouth.
God, I know it sounds bad, but I’m relieved she’s actually speaking to me. Not giving me the usual grunt, huff, or groan.
“You come in here every day, spouting your fairytale bullshit nonsense, telling me what I need to do. But not once have you ever asked what it is that I want? How fucking hard is it for someone to ask me what I want? What I need?” Fat angry tears fall freely down the young woman’s face. Even crying, she’s a beauty to behold.
I stand there watching the tears fall, and a part of me feels like my heart is breaking. My shoulders slump as I walk over to the wall behind me, pick up the box of tissues off the shelf and walk back over to Alison. She’s still curled up in a fetal position and crying her eyes out.
“Here,” I tell her dropping the tissues on the bed.
I see myself in Alison in more ways than one. I think that has always been what has scared me the most about having her as my patient. She’s a beautiful young woman, with spiky blonde hair, green eyes, and the lightest sprinkling of freckles on her face. She would be what I would call a classic beauty. She doesn’t need to wear makeup or even have her hair brushed to be perfection.
“Alison, may I sit please?” I ask, keeping my voice as low and gentle as I can.
I’m not used to being sweet and kind. This is hard for me. I’m the doctor the patients fear they may get stuck with. I’m the first to yell and scowl when they don’t listen. From the start, I have always been a little softer with Alison. In a way, I suppose you could say that I’ve babied her.
“Please,” she concedes, hiccupping and pointing to the edge of the bed.
I feel uncomfortable with being too close, so I walk over to the corner of the room and take the chair, dragging it back over to the edge of her bed.
“I will sit here, but thank you.”
Something suddenly feels different in the room and I can’t put my finger on it. I stare at her for a long time, looking deep into her green eyes. I lose my train of
“Good evening, Mrs. Harper, how are you this evening?”
Alison doesn’t answer. I don’t even know if she’s even aware of my presence. Her eyes are vacant and void of life as she continues to stare outside. If I hadn’t seen the rise and fall of her chest, I might have been concerned that she had passed.
Fuck, call me heartless, but I just can’t deal with this shit right now.
“Mrs. Harper?” I push, walking over and standing in front of her, effectively blocking her view of the forest behind the hospital.
“You need to talk to me, Mrs. Harper. As your doctor, I need to know where your state of mind is at.”
“You don’t have children, do you Doctor Green?” she sneers.
Her question completely catching me off guard. Alison and I have been lucky to have shared four words between us. Anger starts to rise to the surface at her assumption. I close my eyes and count to ten, praying for the calm that I need. I need to be professional, so saying what is on my mind right now isn’t the right thing to do. I’m likely to rip her a new asshole and say a lot of things that I won’t be able to take back. The truth starts to bubble in my subconscious, pushing up to the surface. What the fuck? No, I will not go there right now. My mind starts to think about bright green eyes and my mind calms. I take a deep breath and try to find an answer that won’t agitate her even more.
“No, I do not, Mrs. Harper,” I mumble, my voice shaking with pent up emotion.
“For fuck’s sake, call me Alison. That’s the biggest assumption of all, you all think I’m married.” Her angelic face twists in agitation and anger. Alison squints her eyes and glowers at me. I have to smother the smile that threatens to break out across my face, by biting the inside of my mouth.
God, I know it sounds bad, but I’m relieved she’s actually speaking to me. Not giving me the usual grunt, huff, or groan.
“You come in here every day, spouting your fairytale bullshit nonsense, telling me what I need to do. But not once have you ever asked what it is that I want? How fucking hard is it for someone to ask me what I want? What I need?” Fat angry tears fall freely down the young woman’s face. Even crying, she’s a beauty to behold.
I stand there watching the tears fall, and a part of me feels like my heart is breaking. My shoulders slump as I walk over to the wall behind me, pick up the box of tissues off the shelf and walk back over to Alison. She’s still curled up in a fetal position and crying her eyes out.
“Here,” I tell her dropping the tissues on the bed.
I see myself in Alison in more ways than one. I think that has always been what has scared me the most about having her as my patient. She’s a beautiful young woman, with spiky blonde hair, green eyes, and the lightest sprinkling of freckles on her face. She would be what I would call a classic beauty. She doesn’t need to wear makeup or even have her hair brushed to be perfection.
“Alison, may I sit please?” I ask, keeping my voice as low and gentle as I can.
I’m not used to being sweet and kind. This is hard for me. I’m the doctor the patients fear they may get stuck with. I’m the first to yell and scowl when they don’t listen. From the start, I have always been a little softer with Alison. In a way, I suppose you could say that I’ve babied her.
“Please,” she concedes, hiccupping and pointing to the edge of the bed.
I feel uncomfortable with being too close, so I walk over to the corner of the room and take the chair, dragging it back over to the edge of her bed.
“I will sit here, but thank you.”
Something suddenly feels different in the room and I can’t put my finger on it. I stare at her for a long time, looking deep into her green eyes. I lose my train of
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