My legs were still tucked up under me, and my right foot was falling asleep, so I shifted my body and set my feet on the floor, slipped my shoes back on. Then I found myself glancing toward Dr. Robinson’s bookshelves.
“Would it be all right if I took a look at your books?” I asked. “I need to stretch my legs.”
“Feel free,” he answered amiably with a sweep of his hand, as if to say, Welcome. Explore my world.
He remained seated, watching me as I moved to the bookcase and looked over the spines, running a finger along each one. There were a number of psychology textbooks but also an impressive collection of self-help books with titles like The Gifted Child, Children of Alcoholic Parents, and Surviving the Death of a Spouse.
“Do you ever just read for pleasure?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder at him.
He laughed softly, then reached into a basket beside his chair and pulled out a copy of The Talented Mr. Ripley. Inwardly, I felt a surge of joy at the discovery that my therapist was actually human and he had a private life outside this room. I had noticed the previous week that he wore no wedding ring, and I found myself wondering if he had a significant other. Or was he like me? A loner whose main focus in life was academic in nature?
“I suppose every patient who comes in here is like a new project for you,” I said. “A puzzle to solve. You must find it very challenging. And rewarding.”
“I do, when it goes well.”
I finished perusing his bookcase and returned to the sofa. “So where were we?” I asked.
He consulted the notepad on his lap and fiddled with his pen, like a tiny baton he twirled between his fingers. “We were talking about your grandfather the pilot, and I jumped the gun by attempting to solve your puzzle too quickly, when clearly there is still much more for me to learn about you.”
His words delighted me, for he was stating that he believed I had interesting hidden depths. No one had ever wanted to take a deep dive into my soul before. Except for my grandmother, but she had been gone for a long time.
“You must be a high achiever,” I said with a smile, “if you’re willing to take on the challenge of other people’s problems.”
He gave me a conspiratorial look that told me I was correct, but he was my therapist, and we weren’t here to talk about him. So he wrangled me back into the paddock.
“You mentioned you don’t want to talk about your mother today,” he said. “What would you like to talk about?”
“Gosh,” I replied. “I don’t know. I can talk about anything?”
“Anything you like.”
“All right then.” I thought about it. “Let’s talk about my dissertation.”
“Wonderful.”
“What would you like to know? Because honestly, I don’t know where to begin.”
He gestured toward me. “You could tell me about your hypothesis. The science of what you’re trying to prove.”
“Okay. I see what you’re doing here, Doctor. You’re trying to reignite my passions. It’s fine. I understand. Your goal is to get me motivated again, and the head of the physics department is the one who’s funding these sessions.”
“Does it matter to you what my goal is?” Dr. Robinson asked.
“A little,” I replied. “I guess I just want to understand your intentions while you’re drilling into me.”
He chuckled. “I’m just trying to do my job. To help you look inward, be as self-aware as you can possibly be. Life is easier when you know yourself. When you can accept your past and your limitations and recognize your strengths and desires. When you really know who you are and what you want, and you don’t try to be something you’re not.”
I let out a breath. “That’s very inspiring.” I felt my brow furrow with curiosity. “How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking? You seem . . . I don’t know . . . mature with the things you say, but you don’t look that old.”
He hesitated, and I sensed in him a twinge of discomfort.
“I’m sorry. Is that breaking the rules?” I asked. “Should I not have asked you that?”
His shoulders relaxed slightly. “It’s fine. I’m twenty-eight.”
I nearly fell off the sofa. “You’re only twenty-eight?”
“Does that surprise you?”
“Well, yes. You seem so much older. Maybe it’s the way you sit in that big armchair with your legs crossed, offering fatherly advice.”
“Does it bother you that I’m young?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re not sure?”
I thought about that for a few seconds. “No, really, it’s fine. You have a PhD. Clearly, you’re well qualified. And I’m sorry I said you seemed old. I didn’t mean it as an insult. I’m sure if I saw you on the street, out kicking a soccer ball around, I’d see you differently.”
He looked down at his notepad and scribbled a few lines.
“I wish I knew what you were writing about me,” I said.
“It’s nothing, really. I just want to remember the things we talk about in our sessions.”
I grinned and looked away, sheepishly. “Now I’m embarrassed.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I said you looked like a dad sitting in that armchair. I can just see your diagnosis now. Patient desperately in need of a father figure. Is that what you wrote down?”
He set his pen down and folded his hands. “No, Melanie, it’s not. I just wrote simply that you were surprised to learn my age. But let’s talk about that, if you don’t mind. This isn’t the first time you’ve tried to guess at how I am perceiving you. It’s almost as if you want to be one step ahead of me.”
“Maybe I missed my calling,” I said. “Maybe I should have been a therapist instead of a physicist.”
When he gave no reply, I groaned. “God, I’m such a cliché. I wanted a father figure, and I saw that picture of my grandfather and wished I could bring him back from the dead. So that’s why I’m doing this.”
“Slow down,” Dr. Robinson said, raising a hand. “You’re going to put me out of a job.”
I laughed. “We’re back here again. Maybe I really did miss my calling.”
“Is that what you think?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe I just need to finish what I started and get my doctorate and then reevaluate. I’m only twenty-four. Maybe this is all happening exactly as it should. I can solve the Bermuda Triangle mystery that kept me going all through my childhood and teen years. I mean, I never would have gotten all those scholarships without my mad passion for science in school. It’s what got me into the gifted program, where all the teachers looked at my sad, unfortunate life and wanted to help me succeed. So here I am, living in New York City, this close to becoming a doctor of particle physics. That’s impressive, right? I was only sixteen when I started college. I should be proud of myself.”
“Yes, you should,” he replied with a flash of respect and admiration in his eyes. I was completely bowled over by it. No one had ever looked at me like that before.
Dr. Robinson glanced at his watch. “Our time is up,” he said apologetically. “I’ll make a note of where we left off, and we can continue next week.”