Freefall

Sixth Chapter

I always slept through breakfast since I couldn't fall asleep until the sun was starting to rise. I didn't mind because I usually only woke up in time for lunch anyway. I had stayed up longer than usual, puzzling over the incidents of the day.

Lunch was sitting on its tray within reach when I finally did wake up. Malcolm was also waiting, and when I noticed him, I started and then slouched onto the pillows. He smiled sheepishly at me.

"Sorry. Again. And then again. I suppose I overreacted last night." He straightened solemnly. "You may eat your jell-o however you want to."

I laughed as I eagerly reached for the food. "Well, I have to admit that I saved it last night, and it did taste better to eat it last."

Malcolm's first response was to smirk, but he quickly wiped it away. "Then I'm glad I could open your eyes to the correct way to eat jell-o."

I breathed in deeply to take in the scents of fried chicken and peas. There was a cup of pudding in the upper corner of the tray, and I snuck a glance at Malcolm. He was watching me carefully, and I frowned at him.

"Pudding last too, huh?"

He drew back and opened his mouth. "I—" He frowned back at me and then shrugged. "I won't tell you how to eat."

"Pudding last," I said with a decisive nod.

As I retrieved my silverware and started sawing at the piece of chicken, Malcolm continued to watch. After awhile, I stopped and turned towards him. "Don't you eat lunch?"

"I already did."

"So you're going to watch me?"

"I'm dessert supervisor, and you've proved yourself very troublesome." He kept a straight face the whole time.

"Oh."

For a moment, I stared at the little pieces of chicken I had cut up, and then I began to eat. After awhile, since I didn't like to chew in silence while others were listening, I decided to strike up a conversation. Glancing at the clock, I saw that there was an hour and a half before my visit with Elliott.

"Is Dr. Harris in his office yet?" I asked, curious if he had a lot of other patients.

As soon as I brought up the name, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Malcolm stiffen. "Dr. Harris isn't with the hospital."

The statement caught me off guard, and I stopped to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Apparently, he's with the school you go to. They're the ones that require mandatory therapy in a case like this. Of course, the hospital would recommend it, but Dr. Harris was assigned from the college. He only comes to see you."

"Oh." That last statement almost made me blush, but I quickly told myself that was ridiculous. He was a doctor and a psychiatrist. I was a college student and his patient.

"Which means, no, he's not here in his office because he doesn't have an office here."

"Huh. I've never heard of a college requiring therapy for their students. I've seen it offered, and I know some high schools have the requirement, but I never heard of it from a college. Huh."

He nodded, perhaps too eagerly. "Me neither," he agreed.

"Well. I've eaten my food, can I eat the pudding now?" I asked to change the subject. Something about it made me uncomfortable.

"Right, yes. Dessert supervisor here."

I smiled and ripped the lid off of the little cup. It was vanilla which wasn't as good as chocolate, but it was still sugar. Once I had finished and set all of the silverware and empty cups back onto the tray, Malcolm took it for me.

"Well. Until next time, I guess," he said with a salute before leaving the room.

"Yeah," I said and the door echoed me with a click

Elliott was his cheerful self from the beginning of our session, and for that I was glad. He didn't once glance at my broken wrist, and he didn't mention it, either. We had gone a whole hour of easy questions and even a few jokes on both sides.

Eventually, though, after a lull, he broke out with, "So you haven't mentioned any trauma, but I just want to make sure. Events such as this often lead to traumatic backlash such as, well, dreams. Have you experienced such trauma?"

I blinked and swallowed. He looked perfectly cool, keeping my gaze the whole time without so much as a blink. However, I noticed that he was tapping his pen against his notepad in a quick rhythm.

The dreams. Should I tell him? He was supposed to help me after all. Perhaps he could help me make sense of it all. He had already helped with other aspects of the incident. He had assured me that I needn't feel embarrassed, he encouraged me to talk about the event openly, as long as the environment was comfortable; he had helped me through the last week more than I had thought he would.

I smiled at him. "No. Nope, I haven't experienced any backlash. I think it's due to how much you've helped me during our sessions."

I had spoken without really thinking about what I was saying, but I was surprised out how coolly I had said it. I usually rambled when I lied. I watched carefully for a reaction.

Elliott smiled back, but staring hard, I saw that his lips were pressed flat against each other. His eyes weren't smiling, either. "Good, good. Well, if you do start having dreams, or any other flashbacks, please tell me, I can help you with it."

"Of course, and thank you."

He nodded and looked down at his notepad. "Well," he said after a moment. "We've made good progress. I think we can end the session on that note."

"Sounds good," I replied and watched him stand to leave.

Elliott paused halfway towards the door, at the edge of my bed. "I talked to the doctors on my way in, and they said that soon you'll be able to get around in a wheelchair. It'll be nice to have a change of scenery, won't it?"

I hadn't heard that yet, but it did sound like a good development. "Yeah, it will."

He nodded, smiled, and then walked towards the door. He paused one more time, halfway through the doorway, turning back to say, "See you soon," before he left.

I stared at the closed door, brow furrowed tightly. It seemed the wheelchair wasn't the only development. Dr. Harris was exhibiting some strange behavior over the past two days, and I couldn't understand why.

Did he like me?

I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. It was a childish thought, and one that wasn't fitting for a nearly-twenty-two-doctor-to-be. I had to remember to keep my head and my heart in check from now on.