feeling so good today?" He tapped his pen against his notebook.
That constant, repetitive sound normally annoyed me, but I barely noticed it. "Nicole." I couldn't say her name without smiling.
"A woman?" He sounded genuinely surprised. "Is this the same woman who is assisting with your musical therapy?"
I nodded. "We went to the symphony last night, and today we had a picnic out by the pond. She's wonderful. She makes me feel…alive."
"That's good. The last time we spoke you were having trouble sleeping. Are you still?"
"Sometimes," I said, "Last night I slept like a baby, and after the day I had today, I'm sure I'll sleep the same tonight."
"How's the prosthesis working?"
"I've been wearing it a lot more lately. It hurts, but it's getting easier."
"Let's talk about Nicole some more." Dr. Monroe jotted something down in his notebook. "Have you told her about your injury?"
"Yes. I told her about how it happened."
"And how did she respond?"
I shrugged. "She was sympathetic."
"And how has she dealt with your injury?"
"What do you mean?" This line of questioning was causing my mood to plummet. Where was Dr. Monroe going with all of this? "She acts like she could care less. It doesn't seem to bother her."
"How does that make you feel?"
What kind of question was that? Of course it made me happy. I was glad my missing leg wasn't an issue for Nicole. "Okay, I guess. It's good she doesn't dwell on it. In fact, when I'm with her, I sometimes forget I have a fake leg." Dr. Monroe shook his head. He hated it when I called it my fake leg. He said it minimized my trauma. "Do you think she could love someone like me?"
"Love?" He raised his brows. "That's a strong emotion for someone you've only just met."
I hated it when he did that. I'd ask a question and he'd pick out one word and focus on that instead of answering me. "I didn't say I loved her. I'm just wondering if someone like her could ever love someone like me."
"What do you mean by someone like her and someone like you?"
I rolled my eyes and indulged him with an answer. "She's just so pure and innocent. She's good and kind and sweet. And I'm…well, I'm not any of those things. I have scars. Lots of them," I said and then added, "I've seen and done things; bad, horrible things that she'll probably never understand."
"You've put this woman on a very high pedestal."
"So?" Dr. Monroe didn't know Nicole. He didn't know the type of person she was and he had no right to tell me how I viewed her.
"The higher the pedestal, the bigger the disappointment," he said, setting his notebook and pen on the desk and then folding his hands in his lap. "I'm worried about how all of this will affect your mental health should things not work out with this woman."
Guess that was my answer, "So, you don't think she could ever love me?"
"That's not what I said, Sean. Don't put words into my mouth. I simply think you need to go into this with your eyes wide open. Relationships among young people, even under the best of circumstances, are difficult. You're coming into this with a host of problems."
"Gee, thanks," I said. My mood had soured, but I wasn't going to let that stop me. "I like how I feel when I'm with her. I want to pursue this with her."
"And I think you should."
"You do?" I swear he talked in circles better than anyone I'd ever met. It was frustrating.
"Yes. I think it will be good for you, providing you have realistic expectations about the relationship."
"I do."
He smiled, "Good. So, I'll see you on Monday then."
"Yup, thanks, doc," I said, wheeling myself out of his office. I usually left those sessions feeling better or the same. Today, I just felt weird.
"Sean, you have a call at the front desk," said Beth, the front desk receptionist.
I had a call? That was weird. Who would be calling me? Nicole had the direct number to my room. I wheeled up and stopped by the front desk. Picking up the receiver, I said, "Sergeant Sean McKenzie." It was force of
That constant, repetitive sound normally annoyed me, but I barely noticed it. "Nicole." I couldn't say her name without smiling.
"A woman?" He sounded genuinely surprised. "Is this the same woman who is assisting with your musical therapy?"
I nodded. "We went to the symphony last night, and today we had a picnic out by the pond. She's wonderful. She makes me feel…alive."
"That's good. The last time we spoke you were having trouble sleeping. Are you still?"
"Sometimes," I said, "Last night I slept like a baby, and after the day I had today, I'm sure I'll sleep the same tonight."
"How's the prosthesis working?"
"I've been wearing it a lot more lately. It hurts, but it's getting easier."
"Let's talk about Nicole some more." Dr. Monroe jotted something down in his notebook. "Have you told her about your injury?"
"Yes. I told her about how it happened."
"And how did she respond?"
I shrugged. "She was sympathetic."
"And how has she dealt with your injury?"
"What do you mean?" This line of questioning was causing my mood to plummet. Where was Dr. Monroe going with all of this? "She acts like she could care less. It doesn't seem to bother her."
"How does that make you feel?"
What kind of question was that? Of course it made me happy. I was glad my missing leg wasn't an issue for Nicole. "Okay, I guess. It's good she doesn't dwell on it. In fact, when I'm with her, I sometimes forget I have a fake leg." Dr. Monroe shook his head. He hated it when I called it my fake leg. He said it minimized my trauma. "Do you think she could love someone like me?"
"Love?" He raised his brows. "That's a strong emotion for someone you've only just met."
I hated it when he did that. I'd ask a question and he'd pick out one word and focus on that instead of answering me. "I didn't say I loved her. I'm just wondering if someone like her could ever love someone like me."
"What do you mean by someone like her and someone like you?"
I rolled my eyes and indulged him with an answer. "She's just so pure and innocent. She's good and kind and sweet. And I'm…well, I'm not any of those things. I have scars. Lots of them," I said and then added, "I've seen and done things; bad, horrible things that she'll probably never understand."
"You've put this woman on a very high pedestal."
"So?" Dr. Monroe didn't know Nicole. He didn't know the type of person she was and he had no right to tell me how I viewed her.
"The higher the pedestal, the bigger the disappointment," he said, setting his notebook and pen on the desk and then folding his hands in his lap. "I'm worried about how all of this will affect your mental health should things not work out with this woman."
Guess that was my answer, "So, you don't think she could ever love me?"
"That's not what I said, Sean. Don't put words into my mouth. I simply think you need to go into this with your eyes wide open. Relationships among young people, even under the best of circumstances, are difficult. You're coming into this with a host of problems."
"Gee, thanks," I said. My mood had soured, but I wasn't going to let that stop me. "I like how I feel when I'm with her. I want to pursue this with her."
"And I think you should."
"You do?" I swear he talked in circles better than anyone I'd ever met. It was frustrating.
"Yes. I think it will be good for you, providing you have realistic expectations about the relationship."
"I do."
He smiled, "Good. So, I'll see you on Monday then."
"Yup, thanks, doc," I said, wheeling myself out of his office. I usually left those sessions feeling better or the same. Today, I just felt weird.
"Sean, you have a call at the front desk," said Beth, the front desk receptionist.
I had a call? That was weird. Who would be calling me? Nicole had the direct number to my room. I wheeled up and stopped by the front desk. Picking up the receiver, I said, "Sergeant Sean McKenzie." It was force of
Similar Books
