EVERYTHING’S JUST PEACHY
Lizzie
AUGUST 31, 2002
PISSED OFF, ISAT IN THE DOCTOR’S OFFICE ONTHURSDAY AFTERNOON, WITH MY ARMSfolded across my chest and my heart sealed off.
“Are you in the mood to talk today?” the woman behind the desk asked in a pleasant tone.
“Depends on the topic,” I answered flatly. This doctor was new, a younger-looking woman I had never met before. I didn’t bother to learn her name because after half a dozen sessions, we would never meet again. That’s how it was. How it had always been. There was no regularity to these appointments. No familiarity. I could spin a new yarn each time, and they would never know.
The impressive stack of notes on her desk led them to believe this stranger knew all about me.
She didn’t and never would.
The shiny MD credentials attached to her name were what assured my parents that she was the latest in a long line of saviors that could fix their broken daughter.
She couldn’t.
Little Red Riding Hood was devoured in whole by the Big, Bad Wolf.
The doctor decided to start with, “I see you’ve celebrated a birthday this summer,” while flicking through my notes. “Yourfourteenth.” Her eyes returned to my face. “Did you do anything special for it?”
Okay, this was a slightly different approach to the standardhow are you feeling, but nothing I couldn’t handle.
“Yeah, I did,” I replied. “And no, I didn’t.”
“Really?” She arched a disbelieving brow. “Nothing?”
Like I’m going to tell you shit. I shrugged in response.
Her lips tipped up. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
Not a chance in hell.
When I didn’t take the bait, she returned to scouring my notes, while I waited impatiently for the clock to run down. Thirty-seven more minutes and I was out of here.
“It says here that your mother has battled cancer throughout your childhood.” Her eyes brightened as she read through my notes. “And she’s made a miraculous recovery back to full health.”
“Yeah,” I bit out.Until the next time.
“You don’t sound happy about that.”
“I’m ecstatic,” I deadpanned, eyes boring holes in hers. “Can’t you tell?”
Concern flickered in her eyes. “How have things been going at home?”
“Peachy.”
“And your relationship with your parents?” She continued to probe. “How is that going?”
“Picture perfect.”
“And your mood? How are you feeling, Lizzie?”
There it was. “Splendid.”
The doctor released a frustrated sigh. “You know I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
