Chapter Ten
Max looked down at her watch again. 10:05. She had been sitting in Dr. Ethan Mitcham's office for ten minuets now, and she was anxious to start her first session with him. While she waited, Max thought about the days since the disastrous dinner she had had with her friends the night before, and honestly she wanted to talk it over with a neutral party that wasn't going to judge her.
Max shifted her gaze to stare at the journal in her lap. She had surprised herself, that night after Logan had left her in her room alone, she sat for must have been three hours, half way hanging out the window, writing every fleeting thought that traveled through her head. For someone who had absolutely no memories, she managed to write quite a bit, almost twenty pages. Max glanced over a few of the pages as she waited.
I can't help but feeling I am the theoretical fifth wheel whenever I am 'in' a conversation with Cindy or Logan. I say 'in' because it is mostly them doing the talking and me trying to follow along, but failing miserably because I never have any clue what they are talking about. I know they can't help it, what else do they have to talk to me about than the past, or things happening in the world, or anything. The length of my knowledge is less than a week ago.
Max looked up when Ethan stepped out of his office, his suit jacket off and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up past his elbows. Today it was a white shirt with a red tie. "Hello Max." He said slightly breathlessly. "I'm sorry for the wait, my secretary left yesterday on maternity leave, and I haven't gotten around to getting a replacement yet."
Max smiled. "Don't worry about it, I had time to re-read the my journal."
"Come on in." Ethan said, moving to let Max walk past him into the room. "So you have been keeping a journal. That's very good. Is it working for you?" He asked as he ushered into a comfortable leather armchair.
"To my surprise, it did help quite a bit. When I got home, to Logan's that is, all my friends came over for some sort of celebration dinner sort of thing. It stressed me out, I must have written for hours."
"You say it stressed you out? Why is that?" Ethan asked as he sat in a chair across from Max.
Max found it easy to talk to Ethan. He had no prior knowledge of her, hadn't badgered her on what she could remember or not, and didn't pass judgment on the fact that the people she was supposed to be such good friends with were the people that were really bothering her the most now.
With Max's permission, Ethan paged through Max's journal, questioning about her thoughts and feelings at certain events.
"Here you mention a dream, you say here that you're fairly sure it was the dream that you had during your nap yesterday."
Max nodded eagerly. "Yes, I wouldn't exactly call it a dream though, more or less a nightmare."
"Can you tell me about it?"
"After I wake up, I quickly forget what it was about, no matter how hard I try, I still forget what it was about within a few minuets. I do know that I am running from something, and I am cold, and when I wake up, it feels like I should still be running." Max said quickly, shutting her eyes at the dredges of terror that stirred up whenever she tried to hard to recall the dream.
"Do you think that it could have anything to do with your memories. A lot of amnesia cases have dreams about their pasts."
Max thought on this. Was this horrific nightmare apart of the past she was trying to remember? "I don't know. I guess it could be." She said carefully.
"Are you reluctant to ask your friends about it?"
Max nodded. "It probably sounds ridiculous."
"Not at all." Ethan reassured. "If this dream is as terrifying as it sounds, it's natural not to want to know anything more about it. That is why you have this reluctance to rely on your friends, you are afraid that you are not going to like what you find in them, what you find in yourself."
Max stared at the floor, tears clouding her eyes.
Ethan reached across to take Max's hand from the armrest where it had been laying. "Don't worry to much about it, I know this is hard on you, but I promise you, it will get better."
"I hope so, because right now this is hell."
"Can I make a suggestion?" Max nodded. "I see that you aren't wearing a sling anymore, and you don't seem like you are in a whole lot of pain."
"Yeah, I am doing pretty good, even off the painkillers."
"So why don't you go out tonight, go out by yourself, meet some new people, just have good time. Then you can figure out how to deal with the rest of this later."
"I thought you were always supposed to face your problems head on."
"Sure, but everyone needs a break, right?"
Max looked down at her watch again. 10:05. She had been sitting in Dr. Ethan Mitcham's office for ten minuets now, and she was anxious to start her first session with him. While she waited, Max thought about the days since the disastrous dinner she had had with her friends the night before, and honestly she wanted to talk it over with a neutral party that wasn't going to judge her.
Max shifted her gaze to stare at the journal in her lap. She had surprised herself, that night after Logan had left her in her room alone, she sat for must have been three hours, half way hanging out the window, writing every fleeting thought that traveled through her head. For someone who had absolutely no memories, she managed to write quite a bit, almost twenty pages. Max glanced over a few of the pages as she waited.
I can't help but feeling I am the theoretical fifth wheel whenever I am 'in' a conversation with Cindy or Logan. I say 'in' because it is mostly them doing the talking and me trying to follow along, but failing miserably because I never have any clue what they are talking about. I know they can't help it, what else do they have to talk to me about than the past, or things happening in the world, or anything. The length of my knowledge is less than a week ago.
Max looked up when Ethan stepped out of his office, his suit jacket off and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up past his elbows. Today it was a white shirt with a red tie. "Hello Max." He said slightly breathlessly. "I'm sorry for the wait, my secretary left yesterday on maternity leave, and I haven't gotten around to getting a replacement yet."
Max smiled. "Don't worry about it, I had time to re-read the my journal."
"Come on in." Ethan said, moving to let Max walk past him into the room. "So you have been keeping a journal. That's very good. Is it working for you?" He asked as he ushered into a comfortable leather armchair.
"To my surprise, it did help quite a bit. When I got home, to Logan's that is, all my friends came over for some sort of celebration dinner sort of thing. It stressed me out, I must have written for hours."
"You say it stressed you out? Why is that?" Ethan asked as he sat in a chair across from Max.
Max found it easy to talk to Ethan. He had no prior knowledge of her, hadn't badgered her on what she could remember or not, and didn't pass judgment on the fact that the people she was supposed to be such good friends with were the people that were really bothering her the most now.
With Max's permission, Ethan paged through Max's journal, questioning about her thoughts and feelings at certain events.
"Here you mention a dream, you say here that you're fairly sure it was the dream that you had during your nap yesterday."
Max nodded eagerly. "Yes, I wouldn't exactly call it a dream though, more or less a nightmare."
"Can you tell me about it?"
"After I wake up, I quickly forget what it was about, no matter how hard I try, I still forget what it was about within a few minuets. I do know that I am running from something, and I am cold, and when I wake up, it feels like I should still be running." Max said quickly, shutting her eyes at the dredges of terror that stirred up whenever she tried to hard to recall the dream.
"Do you think that it could have anything to do with your memories. A lot of amnesia cases have dreams about their pasts."
Max thought on this. Was this horrific nightmare apart of the past she was trying to remember? "I don't know. I guess it could be." She said carefully.
"Are you reluctant to ask your friends about it?"
Max nodded. "It probably sounds ridiculous."
"Not at all." Ethan reassured. "If this dream is as terrifying as it sounds, it's natural not to want to know anything more about it. That is why you have this reluctance to rely on your friends, you are afraid that you are not going to like what you find in them, what you find in yourself."
Max stared at the floor, tears clouding her eyes.
Ethan reached across to take Max's hand from the armrest where it had been laying. "Don't worry to much about it, I know this is hard on you, but I promise you, it will get better."
"I hope so, because right now this is hell."
"Can I make a suggestion?" Max nodded. "I see that you aren't wearing a sling anymore, and you don't seem like you are in a whole lot of pain."
"Yeah, I am doing pretty good, even off the painkillers."
"So why don't you go out tonight, go out by yourself, meet some new people, just have good time. Then you can figure out how to deal with the rest of this later."
"I thought you were always supposed to face your problems head on."
"Sure, but everyone needs a break, right?"