Chapter 2: I Need A Doctor
He couldn't get over it. Try as he might (and he truly tried), he couldn't shake the hollow and empty feelings growing in the pit of his stomach. For the past few weeks following his birthday, he'd simply moped about the city, always carrying that guitar but refusing to play it. He kept thinking how wasteful it was, how he'd never muster up the talent to write a song for her or the courage to even try.
He spent many hours at the park, lying in the grass by the pond, listening to the ducks quacking amongst themselves. Every other park patron was throwing frisbees and playing baseball while he just lay in a pool of depression. Sometimes, he'd attempt to strum a bit to get himself playing, but it only ever lasted a few moments and ended very bitterly.
Usually, nobody bothered him. For starters, everyone knew the fate of his sweet friend. She'd been quite loved, after all. Everyone knew they'd been close, and they all silently agreed that giving him space to wallow in his own sadness was better than constantly pestering him. Was it? He didn't know. He resented the space, but he knew he'd resent the company, too.
Really, nobody aside from her could make him feel better now.
That was the problem. She wasn't there. Only her being there could solve this problem. But he'd witnessed her burial, watched her disappear into the earth, nothing more than a tombstone and the occasional bouquet of flowers marking her final resting place, and he knew that simply could not happen now.
So he wallowed, and the city let him wallow, and he didn't really know how to feel about that. He stared at the sky and waited for an answer.
It wasn't until around four weeks after his birthday that a strange visitor came to the city. This visitor was wandering the park and happened to spot a sad young fellow lying by the water. He marched over to him, peered down into his sad eyes, and introduced himself as a psychologist, comedian, and friend.
"I know you probably don't want to be bothered right now," the kind doctor said, now sitting beside his ailing patient, "In fact, I'm sure you'd rather me leave right now, but I also know you'd feel quite lonely if I did so. So, I won't. Actually, I would like to talk with you, or even just sit with you, if that's what you so choose."
The patient spared him a glance, then stared back to the sky. The doctor shrugged and did the same, and the two simply sat in silence until the sun set.
That's when his "therapy" began.
Actually, to be honest, he wasn't sure if it was therapy. For starters, their "sessions" took place in the park, by the pond, and they only resulted in silent sky gazing for an entire week. The doctor never spoke, but he did bring a picnic lunch and offered to share with the patient. He denied the gesture, but was secretly glad to be thought of. He also noticed the doctor brought foods that simply weren't crunchy, as if to ensure his afternoon lunch wouldn't be a disturbance to his serenity. He appreciated that, actually…
It was these little things that finally prompted him to speak during the middle of their next week together.
"I lost someone."
He said it suddenly and without warning, maybe two hours after the doctor had arrived. The doctor looked to him with a gaze of understanding and nodded sadly.
"Loss is never easy," he said, "May I ask about this person?"
"No…I don't think I can talk about her…"
"That's fine. We don't have to."
They sat in silence for a few more minutes.
"I actually…don't really know how I'm supposed to feel. I'm sad. I don't want people around me. But I also want people around me. But I don't want THOSE people around me. I want her around me and she can't be and that really bugs me. So how do you feel better when the only thing that can make you feel better is gone?"
The doctor was quiet for a few moments. He looked out over the pond, watched the ducks swim around and snatch up bits of bread the youngsters threw to the water.
"You remind yourself that the ones you love never truly disappear," he replied, scratching his chin, "She's gone from here, yes, but not gone from you. The memories, the good times, the love you felt for her is still very much alive, and will remain alive so long as you wish for them to be."
The patient was quiet. The doctor opened his picnic basket and offered him a pack of vibrant red strawberries.
"Eat," he said gently, "These are the most delicious strawberries I've ever had in my entire life. Allow me to share them with you."
His patient gazed at the food for a moment, then slowly picked himself up and took one. He bit into it, studied it for a moment as he chewed, then took another. The doctor grinned and ate one himself.
"By the way…" he said after munching a few of the juicy fruits, "I've realized I never properly introduced myself. My name is Dr. Shrunk."
The patient looked back to him, took another strawberry, and studied it for a few brief moments.
"…Totakeke…" he replied softly before gently tossing it into his mouth.
They ended their session when the box was empty.
xxx
"Could you tell me about the guitar?"
"Ah…I don't know."
It was a week later. The past few days had been a slight relapse, another bout of silence the doctor had patiently waited out. This was the first question that managed to elicit a response.
"Can you play?"
"Not well…"
"I bet you can. Play me any tune you know."
"I don't know any, though. That's the problem. I just..strum it sometimes. Nothing coherent or structured. No music. Just noise."
"It's always music. Show me."
Totakeke heaved a sigh, but took the guitar into his hands and began to play random chords, making note of the ones he seemed to like.
"I try to remember where the good ones are," he murmured, strumming a few pretty sounds, "I don't know the notes or anything, but I remember the ones I like. I know that's not the right way to learn…"
"There's no right way. It's simply your way. Nothing's wrong with that."
"It doesn't make me any better, though."
"Everything is improvement. You just haven't realized it yet."
The next day, Dr. Shrunk returned with books. Totakeke expected books on psychology and the mind, but instead noticed they were full of simple music, note names, finger placements, and almost everything he could ever hope to know about the anatomy of his instrument.
"It's your choice to use these," the doctor said, sitting in his usual place, the pile of books resting between them, "When you find a chord you like, you can look it up in those books and learn its name. Maybe you can find some songs that use it, and maybe you can try to play them."
"…I don't get it."
"Get what?"
"Why…?"
"Putting your potential aside, I think this may be a good way for you to begin healing."
Totakeke was silent. Dr. Shrunk looked at him knowingly, but didn't say a single word until his patient finally said it himself.
"She gave it to me…" he sighed, absentmindedly plucking soft notes.
"I thought as much."
"It was a birthday gift…right before…"
"It's alright. You don't need to push yourself to say it."
He had more strawberries today. Totakeke nibbled at one and sat quietly for a little while.
"…right before she passed on," he finally finished, his arms wrapping tightly around the guitar, "and she left me this guitar and a…well, a song request."
"Do you feel as if you could fulfill this request for her?"
"…No. Not at all."
More silence.
"I think you can, if you believe in yourself as she believed in you," the doctor finally said, popping another strawberry into his mouth, "She wouldn't ask you to do something she thought beyond your talents."
"You didn't know her…she probably figured I could go to the moon if I wanted to."
"You probably could."
"No way…"
"It may seem naive, but I truly believe anyone can accomplish anything if they want it badly enough, even something as elusive as the final frontier itself."
"It's completely naive…"
"But it's possible. Can we agree on that?"
"Well…yeah, sure, I guess even a .01% shot is a possibility."
"So what makes you think you can't play that guitar if space itself could possibly be within your grasp? Answer that, kiddo."
Another block of silence.
Then, slowly, Totakeke opened one of the books. He began to strum different notes, following the book to learn their names, as if learning the identities of a bunch of new people.
"This is going to be really hard," he sighed, shaking his head.
Dr. Shrunk smiled and handed him another strawberry.
"Does a little hard work scare you? Or do you feel it's worthwhile?"
Totakeke looked at the book, then back to the doctor and mustered up a small grin
"You know what? I think it is pretty worthwhile…"
He played a few more notes and then looked up to the clouds.
"Besides…she'll find a way to kill me if I don't write her a song."
The doctor chuckled gently and looked up with him.
"A woman never truly leaves you, son," he said, patting his friend's shoulder, "Remember that."