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“You don’t have an appointment, son.”
“I know, and I’m sorry to show up like this. I understand if you can’t see me right now, if you have other appointments, but I just . . .”
Dr. Allen opens the door and waves me in. “I have time. Come inside.”
I follow him through the lobby and back into his office. I don’t sit, but start pacing again instead. Dr. Allen sits though, and watches me.
“What’s the matter, Wyatt?” he asks finally.
“I should’ve gone with her,” I say impatiently.
“Gone with who where?”
“With Lucy to her father’s beach house.”
“Lucy’s the girl whose father recently died, yes? The girl you’ve been seeing.”
“Yeah.”
“And why didn’t you go with her?”
“Because I got drunk a few days before we were supposed to leave after Willa confronted me about my grief. Lucy helped me realize that I needed to start seeing a therapist again. And we both decided that it would be best if we took a break while we figured our crap out. But I don’t want to take a break anymore. I want to be with her. And I know we haven’t been together that long, I’m not naive. But I also know that life can be so incredibly short and what’s the point of living it if you’re alone? If you don’t have people who fight for you, who sit in your mess with you?”
Dr. Allen is quiet and I turn to face him, breathing heavily.
“Well?” I ask, exasperated.
“Well, what?”
“Help me!”
“What do you want me to do, Wyatt?”
“I want you to tell me to go to her! I want you to tell me that it’s okay to be a little broken, but also a little put back together. I want you to tell me that I won’t mess up her life any more than it already is. I want you to tell me that it’s going to be okay!”
“I can’t do any of that, son.”
“What good are you, then? Why am I even here?”
“If you really wanted to, you’d be on your way to her right now. I think you’re here, Wyatt, because of you. Not her.”
“What?”
“What’s really going on, Wyatt? Because I think this little outburst is a trigger for something deeper.”
“That’s not what this is. I just . . . I feel like I have to be there for her. I can’t let her be alone.”
“Why?”
“Because she needs me!”
“Does she need you or do you need her?”
“I . . . of course I need her. One minute she’s here telling me that she’s not going anywhere, that she’ll wait for me, and then the next she’s gone. She’s gone and she’s not coming back. And I can’t . . . I can’t breathe without her here.”
Dr. Allen stands and walks to me. Tears are falling fast down my cheeks and my chest is heaving.
“We’re not still talking about Lucy, are we?” he whispers.
