The waiting room was on the verge of emptiness. The only people left in the virtually lonely room were two ladies, neither with a smile on her face. One was Morgan, my father's young secretary, who was tiredly staring at the computer screen while smacking on her hour-old gum. The other woman I didn't recognize, and seeing as it was late and closing hours for the office were soon, I ruled her out as one of my dad's patients. So of course the first question that crossed my mind was: Who was she?

I slowly made my way up to Morgan's desk, avoiding the other woman's penetrating stare. I awkwardly leaned forward against the front desk when Morgan looked up at me, surprised, as if she hadn't noticed me enter the room. Knowing Morgan, that wasn't too surprising. It was late and she was clearly already out of it.

"Hi, Jools," Morgan signed, most of her words trapped in a huge yawn. "Your dad should be finished up soon. Last patient…" she yawned again. "…should be right out." I stifled a chuckle at how tired she was.

"How long do you think it'll be?" I asked quietly, hyperaware that the other woman probably didn't want to be bothered with a loud conversation at such a late hour.

"Um…" Morgan's gave lazily shifted to her computer screen. "…he should have been out like ten minutes ago." I sighed and looked over at the door that led down to my dad's office. I never liked looking at the plate mounted on the door: Dr. Benjamin Beckham, M.D. It was just so weird thinking that my dad was a psychiatrist that dealt with crazy people for a living. It was just hard to wrap my head around.

"Do you think I should go in and tell him it's time to go…?" I asked. I knew that his patient was probably having a rough time, but enough was enough. I didn't want to hang around the waiting room for an hour so some old man could blubber to my dad about his troubles.

Morgan shook her head. "It's okay, that's my job," she said, reaching over her empty coffee mug for the intercom. She pressed down on the button lightly and leaned her face into the speaker.

"Dr. Beckham?" We waited in silence for a while until he answered.

"Yes, Morgan?"

"Your daughter's here. It's ten after," Morgan said, stifling yet another yawn. I smiled.

"Oh, really? I'm afraid we must have lost track of time. Thank you, Morgan. We'll be right out." That was just like my dad to get too wrapped in his sessions to realize it was nearing midnight.

"Thanks," I said to Morgan, walking over to the door so I could wait for my dad and his patient to walk in. About two minutes later, the door opened and a tall figure stood very close to me in the walkway.

"Oh, sorry," he said. His voice was deep, but young at the same time. He couldn't have been a day over 20, probably a little younger. Dark locks of shaggy hair fell into his light brown eyes as he glanced at me for a short moment. He whipped his head to the side, moving his hair out of his face, and continued walking away. The exchange lasted for less than a second, but it was enough for me to notice that he was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

I watched him cross the room to the other woman, who stood up and smiled at him. It was almost a sad smile, and if smiles could talk, hers was silent. There was obvious tension between the two of them as she handed him his light beige leather jacket and sighed quietly. She was most likely his mother.

"Ready to go, Julie?" a voice behind me said. I reluctantly tore my eyes away from the boy and his mom to look at my dad. The bags under his eyes were a light shade of purple and his light green eyes were glazed over from a lack of sleep. I smiled and nodded at him, angling myself for the door, when a voice interrupted the silence.

"Dr. Beckham, would you mind if I had a word with you? I promise, it'll be quick…" It was the gorgeous boy's mom, who had magically materialized not even five feet away from us. Her expression was slightly distraught, so I didn't mind joining Morgan off to the side while she talked with my dad. But mostly I just stared at my dad's handsome patient as he waited for his mom to stop talking, too.

He was wearing an ivory v-neck sweater, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. It fit him snugly, emphasizing his muscular chest and I could even see the tendons and muscles of his forearms standing out under his lightly tanned skin. The boy's prominent jaw was clenched slightly. I was pointedly staring at him, and praying to God that he didn't notice because I couldn't seem to make myself look away.

The time it took for his mom and my dad to wrap up their conversation passed much more quickly than I would have liked. She gestured for him to follow her, and he did wordlessly, not giving anyone else in the room a second glance. I was thankful for that, at least.

After telling Morgan a short goodbye, Dad and I silently made our way out to the parking garage, where he slid into the passenger seat of my car with a sleepy groan. I started up the car and drove for about two minutes before I brought up any conversation.

"Who was that guy?" I asked coolly. I adjusted my mirror in a strange attempt to seem uninterested, but I'm sure he didn't fall for it.

"Who?"

"Your patient… the one that you talked with for an extra ten minutes," I added, avoiding looking at my dad. He sighed and I heard him sit up in his seat.

"Julie, you know I'm not supposed to talk with you about my patients…"

"I know, I know," I said, glancing at him for less than a second. "You can't even tell me his name, though?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I just do," I said. "I just want to know his name, Dad. It's not as if I'm asking for his social security number and blood type."

Dad kept quiet. I rolled my eyes and continued driving, making a full mile before he said anything. "His name is Joseph."

"Joseph…" I repeated. "Is he crazy?"

Dad laughed. "I thought you only wanted his name!" I smiled and gave him a look, urging him to answer my question. "I don't think he's crazy. No."

"You don't think he's crazy? As in there is, like, a slim chance that he is?"

"Very, very slim."

"How old is he?" I asked. I didn't want to seem nosy, like I was interested, but in all honesty… I was very interested. I had no idea as to why, though.

"What's with all the questions?" Dad asked. I only shrugged in response. "He's eighteen. Does it matter?"

"I guess not… What did his mother want to talk to you about?"

"That's enough questions, Julie," he said. I stared ahead at the road, squinting into the red tail lights. I wanted to know more, but Dad had built up a brick wall two feet thick, and I was too weak to tear it down. That was all that he was going to say about Joseph.

For that night.