A Wednesday with Dr. White
Dr. White usually had another client just before Quinn. She usually had to wait a few minutes flipping through the pages of an old Highlightsmagazine, or some garbage with Oprah Winfrey on the cover. She usually had a few minutes to recount her week or to figure out exactly what she wanted to say during their session.
This Wednesday, she walked in to find Dr. White in the waiting room, waiting for her.
"Quinn," he stood up quickly almost as soon as the door cracked open.
"Dr. White," Quinn paused for a moment at the door's opening, surprised to see him there.
He moved toward her, extending his hand to welcome her in. "Come on in." He looked up at her, still standing in the doorway. "I'd expected to get a phone call from you this week."
Quinn remained in place, still frozen by the door's threshold. "Why?"
He returned her look of confusion. "Come on into my office. We'll talk about it. We have plenty of time."
The blinds on the windows were slatted open, allowing the waning sunlight to reflect across his desk and the couch pushed against the wall. Quinn took a seat there, while Dr. White's back was turned to her. He dug around in the cabinet for a moment, then faced her with his stethoscope and clipboard.
"Before we begin, I wanted to do a little check-up so see how your body is reacting without the meds. Do you mind?" He was as gentle as ever, yet Quinn felt her heart speed.
"Umm, uh-uh," she shook her head.
He ran through some of the standard tests she remembered from her last physical with him. Dr. White may have been her regular Wednesday psych appointment, but he served as Quinn's pediatrician, as well. She couldn't risk the chance of another doctor taking on her case. There would be too much explaining to do. It was simpler this way.
He mumbled a few things to himself after listening to her breathing. She couldn't make out what he'd written on the clipboard, but he was usually pretty straightforward, so she'd expected to hear his findings soon enough.
It felt like ages before he sat down in the armchair by the sofa, clipboard on his lap. Quinn felt a bead of sweat trickle down her back as she considered the direction their conversation might go. And the directions she didn't want the conversation to go.
"Things are looking pretty normal on the medical side of things, Quinn," he started. "I'd like to take some blood before you leave, just to run a few additional tests - mainly hormonal, but also blood pressure and the usual. That ok?"
She nodded.
"So, like I was saying, I half expected to get a call from you at some point this week. When we last met, you were very concerned about going off of the medicine." He looked at her warmly. "It's a week later, how do you feel?"
Quinn had always told Dr. White the truth. There was never anything too damning to share in past visits. In past visits, they'd sit and talk about her week at school. Sometimes there'd be some run-in with her mom that they'd spend the whole session poring over. At other times, the entire session would be dedicated to their shared love of horror movies.
This visit was different. This visit carried with it the weight of those sticky gym shorts she'd surreptitiously thrown away the next morning just as the trash was picked up. This visit carried with it the embarrassment of Rachel's breasts playing through her mind on a loop. This visit carried with it the stench of shame connected to her first ejaculation. This visit, she'd decided, had to be different.
"I'm good. I don't feel much different, really." She'd only looked up and met his eyes once. Dr. White didn't seem to notice as he scribbled away on his clipboard. The clipboard was getting much more attention than past visits.
"Mmm hmm." He let his assent sit between them - a doctor's trick. She knew this one, but she almost always played into it. Let the silence sit and the patient will say more.
"I mean, I'm not feeling lightheaded, which is good, I guess." Quinn's brain short-circuited in that instant. If I just pretend that I feel light-headed without the medicine, maybe he'll say it was never the medicine in the first place and I can get put back on it. I can always lie to get what I want. Dr. White has no idea what's going on with me. She cursed herself for not having this planned out before the visit.
"That's excellent." Dr. White continued to scribble away. She was thankful, at least, that he wasn't looking at her or he'd pick up on her discomfort.
"Walk me through the week. Tell me about each day and tell me about your feelings that day." He looked up and gave a brief smile. Quinn felt her hand loosen its tight grip on the arm of the sofa for an instant.
"Well..."
"Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt, Quinn. I should probably explain: I'm taking all of these notes because it's very important that we capture both the medical information, like your heart rate, et cetera, and the emotional information now that you're off of the medicine. In future weeks, we'll be able to converse similarly to all of our past sessions, but I just need to capture this data, if you don't mind."
"Um, ok," she began, staring at his clipboard as he took copious notes, even while she wasn't speaking. "Thursday I didn't take the pills for the first time. School was fine. After school, I had band practice with ... the band. That was fine." She'd almost said Rachel's name. She felt her face flush and her heart beat a little faster. The shame bubbled back to the surface.
"And what feelings do you associate with Thursday?" He looked up and got a read on her face.
Quinn felt a tinge of anger seep in. When Dr. White wasn't looking at her, it wasn't hard to lie or brew up a story. With him looking, she could feel his scrutiny. She didn't want him to be looking at her. She wanted to feel guilt-free in using whatever story she chose - made up or not. After all, her current situation was his fault.
"I don't know," she snapped back, "it's too long ago."
"Were you angry?" He put his pen down and continued looking at her. "It seems like that's your feeling right now."
Quinn ran a shaky hand through her hair and watched a few strands of blonde swipe back in front of her eyes. "Yeah I'm angry." She clenched her jaw and fought back the urge to cry. Her hand and eyes came to rest on a thin unraveling thread on the arm of the sofa as she plucked at it.
"Ok. Tell me more."
She didn't want to. With the medical check at the beginning, this session only had about 20 minutes remaining. She could sit in silence for it all. She didn't have to share. Dr. White, after all, she reasoned, was the one that had made her feel this way. He'd taken her off of the medicine.
She could feel his eyes on him for the next few minutes, but her eyes remained staring at the thread unraveling on the arm of the couch. She pulled it between her index finger and thumb, slowly contributing to its further unraveling.
"Are you angry at me?" he said quietly.
He fingers stopped their work and she glanced at her wristwatch. Ten more minutes.
"Did something happen, Quinn?" She felt the seat cushion next to her sink as Dr. White took a seat next to her. She twisted her body away.
"I don't understand, Quinn. You said earlier that you don't feel much different, but you're not talking to me about how you feel now."
Quinn felt her back molars grinding and her jaw jutting out. It hadn't been a conscious move, but she noticed it now. Anger seethed from her. Her back was turned to Dr. White, her forearm flexed as she pulled harder and harder at the thread unraveling from the sofa. Her mind flashed with bursts of anger and possible reactions to Dr. White's next move. If he put a hand on her, she would leave and never come back, she decided. If he kept talking, she'd tell him to shut up and leave. If he just left her alone, she'd wait out the remaining five minutes and leave at the usual time. She'd already decided she wouldn't be getting her blood drawn.
"I know this isn't our typical session, but it's really important to monitor your behavior and feelings as this medicine wears off." She could hear him pause. She knew he had to say more. Something had snapped. She didn't feel in control any more.
"Stop! Just shut up! Stop talking! Can't you see I don't want to talk any more? Is it that hard to see? Sometimes people say things are fine just to get other people to shut up. I just want you to shut up and leave me alone." She was standing now. She didn't know when her body had decided to push itself off of the sofa.
Dr. White's mouth was agape, his pen fell to the floor. "Quinn, I'm..."
Quinn didn't hear the rest of his sentence.
The office door slammed, then her car door. Her head pounded.
In her hand was the thread, now fully unraveled from the couch.
...
She'd had to pull over once on the drive home from Columbus. The roads were too blurry and her body heaved too mightily as sobs wracked through her. Her thoughts didn't make sense. They flew into her mind in terrible whirls and then whipped back out before she could combat them with logic.
Dr. White would never want to see her again.
Her mother would threaten to stop paying for Dr. White's sessions.
She'd never stop hating herself and especially the body that tortured her daily.
Her new friends would never accept her.
Rachel would tell everyone.
Rachel knew about what she did in private.
The monster that lived in her father now lived in her.
It was far later than she expected it to be when she'd slowly twisted the front door open. She saw her mother's silhouette before she'd even turned on the light. One of those terrible thoughts from the drive home was about to come true, she reasoned.
"Where have you been?" It wasn't angry, nor accusing. It also wasn't loving, or concerned.
Quinn placed her keys on the key rack and moved toward to stairs.
"No. Quinn. Come here." This time she heard a shade of emotion pull through her mother's voice. It was so rare that she couldn't detect an appropriate word for the tone.
Slowly, her feet took her up the steps, ignoring her mother's command.
She was about halfway up when she heard her mother's footsteps quickly scuffle up the stairs toward her. Her hand landed on her shoulder as she whipped Quinn around. She braced herself for a fight. Instead, the same cold hazel eyes stared back at her for ages.
"Since when do you care?!" Quinn finally broke. The bare walls echoed with the booming of her voice.
"Since when do you care, mom?!" Her voice cracked on the second shout as her body sunk to the hard wooden steps. She wasn't sure how her mother reacted - everything was a blur again as tears flooded her eyes and she wailed her sorrow through the empty house.
It could have been minutes, but it felt like hours. Quinn found herself cradled against her mother, being rocked against her chest. Her red t-shirt had turned maroon from her tears. Her hair felt damp as she noticed her mother repeating I care I careagainst the crown of her head.
She wasn't sure she had the strength to make it to her bed.
Nothing was as it was supposed to be. Her body was the constant - it had never been right. Her mind was now fading away into anger and grief. Her support system had floundered in its wake.
She woke the next morning as the front door quietly shut, slumped against the bannister of the stairs.