I wait just inside the open door, peeking around it, not sure whether to speak and interrupt his work or leave. He is very handsome, but then, all of them are. Is that another thing that I fail at? Should I try to be more beautiful for You?
"Come in," he says, taking me from my thoughts. As I look back at him, he is leaning back comfortably in his chair, smiling just very faintly. No, it's not really a smile, it's the absence of a frown. I take a step forward and stop. As he stands to come around his desk, he says, "Farther than that."
So I walk all the way to him, keeping my eyes on the ground. "I'm here," I announce belatedly.
"You're right on time. Don't be nervous, all of us must get these sorts of checkups regularly." I nod, and his hand comes to the small of my back, guiding me forward and through another set of doors. This room is stainless clean, and it makes me feel dirty for the remembered playgrounds in school where I would get all dusty from the other children throwing sand in my eyes and in my hair.
But You don't know anything about that. Thank You for Your blindness.
"Remove your clothes and sit up on the table," he tells me briskly, scribbling inanely on a paper clamped onto his clipboard.
I undress, but the table is eye-level - there's no way I can get onto it without help. I glance back at him, not sure what to do or say. Should I try to get up anyway? Would he mind helping me? He looks at me after a moment, saying, "If you want help, ask for it."
I wouldn't dare ask help from You, but he makes it easy for me. It must be weakness on his part. I like that he tells me what to do, though; I wish that I always knew what to do, like him.
I try to lift myself up by my arms, first, just to tell my best friend later that I had. As I lift my feet off the ground, my skirt tangles around my ankles, putting pressure on a dark bruise. I wince in pain and let go, finally saying, "Please help me."
"Tell me," he says as he lifts me under my arms, "about school."
"There's nothing out of the ordinary, so please don't worry about me," I answer quickly.
He doesn't reply as he checks my breathing, then takes my elbow in his hand and raises it to test my blood pressure. He is about to fasten the black strap, but stops as I flinch. I had thought that the soreness had almost gone from that part of my arm, but he had surprised me. At length, he murmurs, "I see," and moves it farther down toward my elbow. Tapping a rubber sort of hammer and making my knee twitch, his eyes are traveling up and down my legs, and I know that there is no way that he doesn't see the discolorations and healing scabs.
He stands, finally, and rubs his hand over my hair. "Do you want me to tell someone? There are people that can make the bullies stop."
I shake my head so much that I make myself dizzy as I slip from the top of the table. "You can't tell Him, please! He'll hate me, He already thinks I'm too stupid to help myself!"
He smiled, but time it was wan and tight. "Don't you think anyone else can help you?
I wrapped my arms around my body to stop the chill I felt in the warm room. "No." Only You are strong enough, only You are smart enough to help me, but I can't tell You that I need help because You'll hate me… It's a conundrum.
Tell me what I should do.
I wish that I could know things without speaking. I wish that people asked me for my opinion - and that I had one at all.
"Be strong." I raise my eyes to his lofty ones, startled. He is so tall, compared to me. I wish… I wish I could make myself stop wishing.
"What?"
He bends down and picks me up, but this time just holds me and walks into his office. I feel special, as though he's never really down this for anyone before. He doesn't have any children of his own. Does he carry his other patients? There aren't very many children in the family. Still, the way his arms are just a little bit awkward shows me that he hasn't any real practice.
Did I do it? Did I figure something out without having to ask? Are You proud?
He sits me down on his chair and kneels to look me in the eyes. "Be strong and happy, so that the bullies won't be satisfied by hurting you. If you don't cry, if you lean on your allies more, it is possible."
"But I never know when it is better to try on my own or to ask for help," I whisper desperately. "How can you tell?"
"Do you remember a woman that I used to know?" he says, very quietly.
I nod slowly. "I remember that she was beautiful, and always laughing. I was only eight when she went away. You always felt different around her. More happy."
"When she went away, I was sad. I went back to how cold and indifferent I had been before." He pauses, as though thinking of what to say next. He has never been the type to say 'um'. He only speaks when he has his thoughts together. "I would have gotten worse if my best friends weren't there."
"Like my best friend has been there for me?" I ask hopefully.
"Exactly." He watches me my a moment, and then stands up, immediately towering over me. "You are young. It's alright if you don't know anything. Just ask someone you trust, and they'll know."
I get out of the chair, thinking. As I prepare to step through the door, I turn back, smiling. "You're starting to act like you did before, when the pretty woman was with you. Did you know?"
He looks surprised, and then waves as I leave.
