Evergreen Everleigh - The Wattys 2020

Chapter Ten - Seeking Ever

Chapter Ten

Seeking Ever

The man in the door walks in, tousling Perennial's hair as he passes and nudging Teasel playfully. He stands over me, extending a hand.

"It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, Everleigh. My name is Wister – named after the Wisteria plant." Slowly, I take his hand. It is warm and soft. My voice is caught in my throat, so I nod politely to him.

"If you've finished eating, I'd like to start my sessions with you today, if you don't mind?" His hazel eyes are carefully gauging my reaction in only a way a health professional can. I wonder if his title is a councillor, psychologist, therapist, or psychiatrist.

"I'm done," I say quickly, spotting Sweet Pea frowning at my plate and opening her mouth to speak.

"Great," Wister says cheerfully. Without further ado, he grabs hold of Mr. Flurry and turfs him in Yarrow's arms. Yarrow, looking deeply disturbed, drops the cat immediately. Willow and Perennial giggle at this. I stand up and follow Wister out the door, noting the silence I leave in my wake.

We walk down the corridor, passing bedrooms and a bathroom from what I can see at a glance. The door at the end of the hall has a small name plaque on it that appears to be hand-painted mosaic. Wister, it says in a variety of blending colours.

Wister looks over his shoulder, following my gaze and smiling.

"Teasel painted it for me, for my birthday." He says. 

"He's incredibly talented," I respond and Wister nods seriously in agreement. My stomach leaps with hope at this. I now have reason to hope that Wister is the kind of man that cares for those in his charge.

He leads me into his room and for the first time since entering the house, I am unsurprised at the eclectic décor of the room. This room is not adorned in bunting or painted outlines of children, but rather darker, more muted tones. Thick red curtains hang in front of a large bay window. Varying sizes of dreamcatchers hang from the ceilings and on the wall behind a large mahogany desk that is as cluttered as the kitchen we just left.

"Just so you know, Everleigh, I am a psychiatrist and I've spoken with your mother whilst you were in the hospital," Wister says as he moves behind his desk and taking a seat. He gestures to the green leather seat in front of the desk. "I'd like you to look at this."

He hands me a thicket of paper, clipped with an emerald paper clip. I flick open the pages of the paper and see my mother's waving signature on the first page and the last. Flicking in between, I can see more of her scrawls of extended paragraphs. I see my names littered in patches tagged with words like hallucinations, starvation, and abuse.

I snap the file shut and place it back on the desk delicately, as though it were a bomb.

"I don't need to read that."

"You don't have to. I wanted you to know that your mother signed off on me, after an extensive check of my qualifications," Wister leans forward and takes my file, and places it to the left a teetering tower of used coffee cups. He looks up and hooks eyes with me. "It will always be there for you."

I cringe away from it and Wister smiles slightly. 

"From what I've been told you've had quite the plethora of therapy sessions," Wister says, changing to an equally gloomy topic. I have to actively try to correct my frown.

"Yes," I say, before adding "I've had three previous in-patient stays."

Wister cocks an eyebrow at my slightly proud tone.