As soon as I was out of the hospital, I was put right into another one, so to
speak. My parents rushed me to the nearest psychiatrist that was available.
When I got to her office, she asked my parents if they would mind leaving for
a few hours. They agreed, albeit reluctantly, and left. I didn't want them
to go. I didn't want this lady to ask me all kinds of personal stuff and then
tell me that I was a complete quack and should be locked up in a padded room
for the rest of my life. I sat in a plush armchair, while she took a hard
stool. We stared at each other for a full five minutes before she finally
cleared her throat and introduced herself.
" My name is Cynthia Walsh. You can call me Cynthia or Dr. Walsh, whichever
makes you feel more comfortable. Okay?" I just looked at her, trying to
figure her out. What was she trying to get from me? I guess I hesitated too
long, because she frowned. " Is something wrong?" I blinked, and shook my
head. Best just to play along. Then maybe she wouldn't think I was crazy.
" No, uh, s--sorry, I--I was just th--thinking. Um, I guess you c--can call
me Gordo." I smiled. She smiled, too, looking relieved. I wondered how long
she had been working with crazy and depressed kids. Not long, probably,
considering how nervous she looked.
"So, Gordo, is school going well, for you?" I nodded, then shrugged.
" Well, it w--was . . . I mean, I've been out f--for awhile. At the
hos--hospital." She nodded thoughtfully.
" Speaking of the hospital. Did you get many visitors?" I shrugged.
" Not r--really. I mean, I've n--never been the most popular p--person
around." At her look, I quickly added, " but I h--had a couple. Close
friends, you kn--know?" She nodded again. This went on, mind you, for hours,
and I got impatient. " Um, look, Dr. W--Walsh . . . is th--there a point to
this?" She raised her eyebrows.
" Yes, Gordo, there is. Why did you jump off your roof?" I couldn't tell her
that. She could ask me anything, just not that. I mean, how could I tell her
one person had completely ruined my life. I couldn't. I stood up,
apologizing and mixing up my words as I grabbed my jacket and left. My face
burned as I stepped out into the sunlight and the cold. I looked aorund. It
wasn't really that far to my house, so I decided to walk home. I couldn't go
back into her office anyway.
As I turned up my street, I saw someone sitting on my porch. I squinted, trying to figure out who it was.
Were they waiting for my parents?
I finally reached my house and hurried up the steps. Anything I was about to say completely died on my lips.
Miranda sat on my porch swing, staring at her shoes, waiting . . . for me? She looked up as I stepped onto the porch. Tears glinted in her eyes.
" M--Miranda, I--" She held up a hand, silencing me.
"Gordo, look. I don't know what was going on with you and Lizzie before, but it's obvious you still care about her.
I just wanted to say I was sorry for getting in the way of that." I shook my head, and grabbed her arm.
" C--Can I finish?" She frowned, but nodded. " I--I'm glad you're here. Th--that night was a mistake.
Miranda--you were r--right. She's n--not someone I want to be with." I took her hand. " I th--think I owe you an
ap--apology. I should have noticed when y--you were there for me." She smiled, and we sat down together, Miranda
letting her head rest on my shoulder. Finally, I thought. It's working out. But I should have known. Lizzie
cleared her throat from the top step of my porch.
****
It just doesn't end, does it? One problem, though . . . I need some help finishing up!! Any ideas? R/R!!!!!
speak. My parents rushed me to the nearest psychiatrist that was available.
When I got to her office, she asked my parents if they would mind leaving for
a few hours. They agreed, albeit reluctantly, and left. I didn't want them
to go. I didn't want this lady to ask me all kinds of personal stuff and then
tell me that I was a complete quack and should be locked up in a padded room
for the rest of my life. I sat in a plush armchair, while she took a hard
stool. We stared at each other for a full five minutes before she finally
cleared her throat and introduced herself.
" My name is Cynthia Walsh. You can call me Cynthia or Dr. Walsh, whichever
makes you feel more comfortable. Okay?" I just looked at her, trying to
figure her out. What was she trying to get from me? I guess I hesitated too
long, because she frowned. " Is something wrong?" I blinked, and shook my
head. Best just to play along. Then maybe she wouldn't think I was crazy.
" No, uh, s--sorry, I--I was just th--thinking. Um, I guess you c--can call
me Gordo." I smiled. She smiled, too, looking relieved. I wondered how long
she had been working with crazy and depressed kids. Not long, probably,
considering how nervous she looked.
"So, Gordo, is school going well, for you?" I nodded, then shrugged.
" Well, it w--was . . . I mean, I've been out f--for awhile. At the
hos--hospital." She nodded thoughtfully.
" Speaking of the hospital. Did you get many visitors?" I shrugged.
" Not r--really. I mean, I've n--never been the most popular p--person
around." At her look, I quickly added, " but I h--had a couple. Close
friends, you kn--know?" She nodded again. This went on, mind you, for hours,
and I got impatient. " Um, look, Dr. W--Walsh . . . is th--there a point to
this?" She raised her eyebrows.
" Yes, Gordo, there is. Why did you jump off your roof?" I couldn't tell her
that. She could ask me anything, just not that. I mean, how could I tell her
one person had completely ruined my life. I couldn't. I stood up,
apologizing and mixing up my words as I grabbed my jacket and left. My face
burned as I stepped out into the sunlight and the cold. I looked aorund. It
wasn't really that far to my house, so I decided to walk home. I couldn't go
back into her office anyway.
As I turned up my street, I saw someone sitting on my porch. I squinted, trying to figure out who it was.
Were they waiting for my parents?
I finally reached my house and hurried up the steps. Anything I was about to say completely died on my lips.
Miranda sat on my porch swing, staring at her shoes, waiting . . . for me? She looked up as I stepped onto the porch. Tears glinted in her eyes.
" M--Miranda, I--" She held up a hand, silencing me.
"Gordo, look. I don't know what was going on with you and Lizzie before, but it's obvious you still care about her.
I just wanted to say I was sorry for getting in the way of that." I shook my head, and grabbed her arm.
" C--Can I finish?" She frowned, but nodded. " I--I'm glad you're here. Th--that night was a mistake.
Miranda--you were r--right. She's n--not someone I want to be with." I took her hand. " I th--think I owe you an
ap--apology. I should have noticed when y--you were there for me." She smiled, and we sat down together, Miranda
letting her head rest on my shoulder. Finally, I thought. It's working out. But I should have known. Lizzie
cleared her throat from the top step of my porch.
****
It just doesn't end, does it? One problem, though . . . I need some help finishing up!! Any ideas? R/R!!!!!
