Page 34 of The Sound of Him

I run the tip of my finger along one of the flowers on my notebook, not sure what I would say to that even if I could.

I see him move in my peripheral, grabbing something. I can tell from just a quick glance that it’s a leather journal. I guess that’s fair - now we both have something to write with.

Though, I’m not sure why he needs to be writing.Maybe just to match me on my level?That’s… kind of nice actually.But also a waste of time?

“I like to take notes in my sessions.” Oh. Right. That makes more sense. He can talk, after all. He’s able to.Who wouldn’t talk if they could? Who would actually choose to be locked in silence?“The notes help me keep track of my thoughts and ideas, especially things that pop up in my head that I’ll want to return to and expand on later without interrupting the flow by bringing attention to it in the moment. I’ll also note things that are important that I want to make sure I don’t mix up - details, mostly. I don’t want you to end up having to decide between correcting me on things or ignoring them. You deserve to have the right details, okay?”

You don’t even know my name.

Should I tell him my name?

The thought makes something sharp twist in my chest.

I’ve been Matt for so long, now.

Matt is the ghost.

If I let him know my real name, that part of me will die too.

Is that a stupid thing to think?

It doesn’t matter.

Really, that part of me probably died a long time ago, anyway. Way before Matt did.

“The notes are about me being the best therapist I can be for you. This is all about you, Matt. Every single minute we spend here is for you. Is it okay if I take notes?”

I wonder if he’ll have to put my name on his notes. If he’ll writeMattat the top like it was on my file for Dr. Deacon.

Icouldbe Matt, though.

It’s so close anyway.

“You can decide later, if you’d like - about the notes, I mean. We aren’t doing a session today, so there’s no need for it at the moment anyway.”

Right. I need to respond.

Is it too late?

I’ll at least try.

I tap theYEScard.

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, you want to decide later?”

I shake my head this time, starting to lose the energy to keep leaning forward and tap the cards.Would he be upset if I put them in my lap instead?

He lifts his journal a little. “Yes, you’re okay with me taking the notes?”

I nod.

He smiles.

Right answer again.

“Thank you. If that ever changes, just let me know and I’ll stop taking them. You can write it out for me. Or just point and shake your head. Honestly, feel free to just take it out of my hands, as long as you promise not to throw it at me after.” He smiles. It’s one of those smiles that’s about himself more than me. There’s a name for it. Self…something. “I’ve actually had that happen a few times - patients throwing something at me. My favoriteused to be when a patient threw the tissue box - much softer than other items. If you simplymustthrow something, though, I’d appreciate your consideration of the lovely throw pillows I’ve added.”

I look to where he’s gesturing, just now realizing there’s a fuzzy throw pillow against my left hip. It definitely looks softer than the tissue box.