"I'm still not insane." That was Miles's traditional greeting after three weeks of therapy in the Santa Rosa Mental Hospital.
"Yeah, I know Miles. Sorry that I can't get you out," Ana Lucia said. There was actually sympathy in her eyes, so different from the first time they met.
"My name is Ana Lucia Cortez, and I'm your therapist. Now I'm gonna let you know right off the bat that I'm not one of those wishy-washy therapists who asks you how that makes you feel. You're gonna talk to me and I'm going to be the voice of reason."
Miles sat back with his arms crossed, the picture of indifference. He had actually come to like talking with Ana Lucia but he wasn't about to let that show. She pulled out a file that was stacked on her impeccably neat desk.
"Today I'm supposed to do a routine check-up on how you like it here. I'm sure we both know what the answer is," she laughed.
"Do you want the honest answer or the from the book answer?"
"You can be as honest as you want. I've realized that the more you try to make someone be honest, the more they lie. The only reason I'm here is to help you and I can't help you if you don't want to help yourself."
"You know what I always say."
"Well, here's the honest answer: it's hell here. I'm not insane, I shouldn't be here." Ana Lucia nodded and wrote down his answer on her clipboard. For the first few times it had annoyed him, that constant note-taking, but now it seemed natural and he barely even noticed it.
"So, you know all about my life here at this shithole, what do we have to talk about today?" Miles asked sardonically.
"What about your past? What was your childhood like?"
"My childhood," Miles said bitterly, "was as awful as the rest of my life. My dad died, my mom raised me until I was sixteen when she got so fed up that she disowned me. I didn't have any other relatives so I just looked out for myself. Had to live on the streets for a few years until I got a job."
"Why'd your mom disown you?"
"She hated me. She didn't mean to get pregnant with me; believe me I was told several times."
"Do you think she was just afraid of responsibility?"
"How would I know? The last time I talked to her, I was sixteen and she was telling me to get out of her life and never come see her again."
"Well, what happened after that?"
"Like I said, I left and lived on the streets for two years until a buddy of mine took pity on me and gave me a job. Then I started making money off of my psychic powers. I was doing that until Angela turned me in."
"Angela is your girlfriend right?"
"Was my girlfriend. She came to visit me during the first week and I told her to leave. Stupid little…" he called Angela several unflattering names. Ana Lucia just listened to his cussing unflinchingly. After he was done, she spoke.
"I can tell you're pissed off at your lot in life. But think about it this way: you may have it pretty bad but there are a lot of people out there who have it a hell of a lot worse." As Ana Lucia said it, Miles glanced up and noticed for the first time just how pretty she was. She had a tough air to her, not really what you would think of in a therapist.
"I guess so," Miles said slowly.
"You know I'm sorry. I know I haven't really helped you that much, but I'm just doing my job."
"My job is to help you, and I'm gonna try to whether you want it or not."
Ana Lucia had helped him. Miles realized that now. True, he still hated his mother and Angela, still wished he had a better life, but now at least he had someone to confide in.
"You kinda have helped me though." She was close to him now, and in that moment he knew it was the right thing to do. He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. They tasted like mint. Her hands snaked their way around his neck and he held her tightly, afraid that he'd lose her if he let go. This was the first time he'd ever felt something while kissing a woman. Then they broke apart and the moment passed.
"Dammit," Miles swore to himself. What had he done? That was definitely the stupidest thing he'd ever done. Ana Lucia was looking away, biting her lip. They both knew that what had just happened was wrong on so many levels. Miles waited for her to yell at him, tell him to go away, do something. But she didn't do anything, she just sat there in silence. Eventually the oppressive quiet became too much for him.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" she asked, looking up at him. In her eyes he saw something that he'd never seen before. Caring. No one had ever cared for him before.
"I'm the one who should be sorry," she conceded.
"Why?"
"I lied to you. I can get you out, if I write a recommendation. I should have done it before, but now I know that you aren't insane." Miles grinned like an idiot, feeling a ridiculous amount of relief at hearing her finally admit that he wasn't crazy. Then he realized that he might not see her ever again.
"Ana Lucia…" he couldn't go on. He didn't even know what he had planned to say to her.
"Oh, come on. Don't act like this is goodbye forever. I'll find you again," she promised. Miles nodded and turned to leave, not knowing how to say goodbye. She caught his shoulder though and whispered in his ear.
"See you in the next life."
Miles stood up straighter and turned to her. "Thank you."
"For what?" she asked again.
"For everything."
