I mentally and logically understood why I was sitting in the Lacuna waiting room, I couldn't move on from her death, but emotionally this entire thing felt wrong. Not just what I was thinking but the whole concept of Lacuna itself felt wrong. But then again everything felt wrong to me ever since I lost Iris. What parent can ever look at the world the same?
"Mr. Harlow?" The receptionist called pulling me from my train of thought. I stood from my chair and followed her back into a small office area where the doctor was seated with a folder and tape recorder on the table in front of him.
"Well hello Mr. Harlow." He said standing with a smile as he offered me his hand. How can someone be so cheery towards someone that's clearly broken?
"Hi." Was all I said as I took the seat opposite him and watched as he hit record on the tape player and I could feel my nerves begin to rattle.
"Why dont you start by telling me your name and why you're here." He said picking up a pen that laid untouched beside the folder, his eyes boring into me expectantly.
"Well... my name is Austin Harlow and I'm here to e-erase my daughter Iris." I managed to stutter out. Even saying her name makes me want to break down in tears.
"I'm sorry for your lose Mr. Harlow. Tell me about Iris. What was she like? Dont leave anything out." He said as he glanced down and away from me.
"Well..." I began as I fidgeted with my hands. "She was what every young girl was. Stubborn and sensitive, but so full of life, always bouncing from one thing to the next without missing a beat." I recalled of my 14 year old daughter as I watched him begin to scribble down words in black ink. "But she got to that age where you couldn't tell her anything without a fight, a trait she inherited from her mother." I scoffed earning a slight side grin from him. "Then again she was always like her mother, I often wondered if she even had the slightest bit of me in her besides my genes..." I felt the tears and wiped under my eyes quickly as I cleared my throat to stop the cry that wanted so badly to erupt from my throat like a volcano. "She never picked up a book but was always quick to read those stupid Hollywood magazines. I hated those god damn things, probably the reason she developed an eating disorder." I recalled thinking back to the pictures of women that looked like skeletons for impressionable young minds to see.
"Was she a happy girl?" He asked finally glimpsing up at me from the half written page and I shook my head as I reached up ad scratched my chin.
"No, I mean she did have good days, but most of the time she was withdrawn and had this glazed over look in her eyes like she wasn't really there. I tried talking to her many times but I never got through to her completely. I guess it should have been expected since she never listened to me anyway." I replied with a sigh.
"From my understanding you and her mother are not together anymore, haven't been for years but you had full custody of Iris while her mother only got visitation. How did that affect Iris?" He questioned.
"Honestly, if she had it her way she would run off and live with her mother and never speak to or see me again. We had so many disagreements over that situation and it just put a strain on both of us." I told him as all the arguments came flooding back, every 'I hate you' stabbing him in the chest.
"Now, this one is going to be difficult to answer but...how did she die?" He asked and I sucked in my breath, my heart feeling like a rock in my chest as I stared hard at the dark, stained wood of the desk in front of me as I remember seeing my only child, my baby, laying on a slab in a morgue so pale and so thin.
"Anorexia nervosa." I mumbled lowly.
"You blame yourself, don't you." He stated simply as if the guilt was written on my forehead in plain sight for all to see.
"I could have done more, I could have saved her." I said through clenched teeth as I felt a hot tear fall down my cheek in anger, anger at myself for letting her die.
"It's not your fault at all-"
"Every bone in her body." I cut him off as I clenched the armrest in my hands tightly. " I could have named and counted every bone in her body that poked out or was visible underneath her skin." I told him as more tears of anger left burning trails on my skin. He reached over and clicked the stop button on the recorded as he looked at me with a mixture of sympathy, pity and dullness.
"I think that's all we'll cover for today. Next appointment we'll begin to track your memories and then proceed with treatment." He said as we both stood. I turned and began to leave his office before another thought struck me.
"What do I do about her room?" I asked standing in the doorway with my torso turned in his direction.
"Get rid of her things and paint it, turn it into something useful." He said picking up papers and hitting them against the desk to straighten them out without actually looking up at me. His tone was cold and he said it as if it should have been the easiest thing in the world to do but as I delved deeper into this method of treatment the more I wanted to stop going through with it. But I wasn't living, in fact, I felt that when Iris died I did too. And not just a piece like everyone else says, all of me had died.