Page 2 of Puck Me

I nod wearily. I’ve already changed into fresh clothes after my shower, so there isn’t really anything else I need to do before my appointment with Dr. Davidson.

I can drive myself, but Noah took away my car keys after the incident with the box cutter. I told him I wasn’t really going to hurt myself, but my words sounded halfhearted even to my own ears. I don’t blame him for taking my keys away.

Noah drives me to the hospital and sits in the waiting room while I go in for my appointment.

I sit down, eyeing the corner of Dr. Davidson’s desk.

“So, Chester, how are you feeling?”

I shrug. “About the same as last week, really.”

Her face pinches in concern. “That’s what I’m worried about. I feel like we’re just not making any progress.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That’s what I’ve been saying for months now. You’ve always insisted that it’ll take time.”

“And that’s true, but I’m beginning to wonder if we’re the right fit.”

“The right fit?”

“I think it’s time for us to try something new—or rather, for you to try someone new. I’m going to refer you to a different psychiatrist, one who specializes in depression related to chronic illness or injury. I think he’ll able to help you better than I can.”

“You—you’re giving up on me?”

“Try not to see it like that, Chester.”

“How else should I see it? You know that I’m never going to get better and you’re cutting your ties so that you don’t have to watch my inevitable spiral!”

“That isn’t true. I really do believe that you can get better. I simply think that I’m not the person who can help you do that. Dr. Harris is a very talented psychiatrist and I think he…”

I’m not really listening. She has said everything that matters. I was right all along. I’m not going to get better. Even my own psychiatrist is giving up on me.

I fight back tears, not wanting to cry in front of her. All I want is to get out of here.

The rest of the appointment passes in a blur. I can tell by the tone of Dr. Davidson’s voice that she’s trying to be comforting, but there is nothing she can say that can undo what she has already said, and what she has already said says everything.

Noah jumps up in alarm the moment he sees me walking out of Dr. Davidson’s office. “Chester, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing,” I say stubbornly, still refusing to cry. “I just want to go home.”

Thankfully, Noah doesn’t question me. “Let’s go, then.”

I don’t speak on the drive back and Noah doesn’t try to force me to. When we arrive at my apartment, however, he comes in with me and follows me to my bedroom, where I fling myself into bed.

“What happened?” Noah repeats.

I don’t really want to talk about it, but Noah isn’t going to let this go, not when he can clearly see that I’m distressed.

“She’s given up on me,” I say softly. “She knows I’m not going to get better.”

Noah stiffens, his nostrils flaring. “What do you mean?”

“She said she’s referring me to another psychiatrist. She doesn’t want to see me anymore, because she knows I’m never going to pull through this.”

“What did she say, Chester? Her exact words?”

“I don’t remember,” I say dully. “Does it matter? The point is that there’s no hope for me.”

“That isnottrue. I’ll talk to her. She can’t just drop you like this. I’ll threaten her with legal action if I have to—”

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