Ophelia Drowned

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

His name was Dr. Arthur Felix. He wanted me to call him Arthur, but Felix suited him better. Not that it mattered, at the moment I wasn't calling him anything.

He was younger than the others. Mid-thirties, maybe- or a fit forty. He wore these square, thick-rimmed glasses and when he cleared his throat he did it into his sleeve, as if he was coughing. Every time he cleared his throat he would mumble 'excuse me' and stare down at the clipboard in his lap.

"Your parents are divorced," he said.

They usually started with that one but he had wasted fifteen minutes trying to discuss Shakespeare, as if we had some rare bond in that we had both read Shakespeare in high school. I was sitting on the arm of the leather sofa, peeling tissues out of their box to crumple them and cast them- unused- into the wastebasket by his chair. My aim had improved dramatically since the beginning of the session. I wasn't left handed but, somehow, having the left arm in a sling made it more impressive. I tossed another tissue, ignoring his question.

"Excuse me." He cleared his throat. "Do you see your father much?"

Crumple. Toss. Bullseye.

"Are your parents seeing new people?" he pressed on.

Another tissue, another shot- it rode the rim of the wastebasket as it if might not make it and then tumbled in.

"Do they ever talk to you about the divorce?" he continued. "About why they chose to split up?"

I rolled my eyes. I couldn't help it. Was that all my existence amounted to; Child of divorced parents?

"Excuse me," he mumbled into his sleeve.

Another tissue in the bin.

"Do you have many friends?" he asked.

Friends? That depended on his definition. Plenty of people from school might have called themselves my friends- but the majority were ready to turn on me for one rung up the social ladder. Besides, where were they now? I had made an attempt on my own life and they were all suddenly and mysteriously absent. That didn't surprise me, though. Their lives were simple. They couldn't even begin to comprehend what I went through and chances were good that they didn't want to. I pulled another tissue and balled it up.

But there was Hex. Did he count as a friend? No. He was practically a stranger. I had probably scared him off permanently. But he had rescued me. Sure, any decent stranger would have, but he genuinely seemed to care.

I threw the tissue ball but it bounced off of the basket and onto the floor by Felix's shoe. He bent over to pick it up and threw it away with a mind numbing amount of patience. When his lensed gaze returned to me I knew he had won.

With a heavy sigh I heaved my shoulders and said, "I don't know.. maybe."

"Tell me about them," he said, leaning back in his chair a little. "Why do you say 'maybe'?"

"It's because I jumped."

"You don't think they'll understand?" he asked. "You know, plenty of people your age go through feelings of anxiety and depression."

I sucked in a breath and crumpled up another tissue. He didn't understand. If I had taken some pills or cut myself then I could have probably gotten sympathy. Enough people in school had done as much. It wasn't really a big deal. But I had jumped. I was different. I was serious. Clearly Felix wasn't equipped to handle this. He was still thinking of me like one of them. But I wasn't just another kid cracking under pressure. I had jumped.

The rest of the session went on with his questions and my throwing balls of tissue paper. He didn't ask me to stop which was another sure sign that he was an amateur.