“I’m glad to hear it.”
“I have you to thank, doctor. She nearly broke me with her constant ridicule. We’d be in a meeting, and I would catch her using her thumb to count off silently on her fingers, just like I do…like I did.” His smile grew wide, his heart feeling like it might explode with gratitude. “Doctor, I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me. If you ever need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.” The doctor gestured toward the blond man seated near the desk. “Of course, you noticed my assistant here.”
Anderson nodded in greeting. “I did.”
“He’s doing an internship with me, and I was hoping you would allow him to sit in.”
Anderson’s gaze shifted from the doctor to the strange man and back, tension becoming a ball in the pit of his stomach. “I…um, I don’t know if I’m the best patient to observe.”
“What did we decide about self-depreciation?” the doctor asked in a firm voice, his expression gentle. Reassuring.
Anderson couldn’t help it. He tapped his thumb on his pinky finger—one tap, two taps, three taps, four taps. Then his ring finger, counting each tap until he reached the number four at his index finger. Immediately, he started again.
One, two, three, four.
One, two, three, four.
Behind his desk, the doctor waited patiently for Anderson to stop the compulsion.
The intern was less patient, fidgeting in his seat, glancing at the doctor a couple of times, obviously wondering what the holdup was.
Anderson blinked and shook his head, forcing his fingers open to stop the endless counting. Air hissed through his clenched teeth as he took a slow, measured breath. “I’m fine with him observing.”
“Excellent.” The doctor brushed a bit of lint off his suit and turned to the intern. “Anderson really is the perfect subject for this. Take notes. You’ll want to remember everything you learn today.”
The intern nodded, reaching out to pick up a pen from the silver cup in the center of the desk. He grimaced, fingertips shaking as he struggled to grab the tip of the pen closest to him.
The doctor’s bemused smile held a touch of cruelty Anderson wasn’t expecting. Anderson caught his thumb stretching toward his pinky, balled his hands into fists, and took a step forward.
The intern froze and eyed Anderson.
Anderson stuck out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I didn’t catch your name.”
“You can call him Ernest.”
Ernest stood and took Anderson’s hand, then winced and quickly pulled away, clutching at a spot on his chest. “Sorry. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and I appreciate the opportunity to observe your session.”
“Are you injured?”
Ernest took a step back and waved his hand in front of him. “It’s nothing.”
The intern opened his mouth to say something more, but the doctor interrupted him. “Just an unfortunate incident with a patient a few weeks back. It’s a hazard of psychiatry when you work inpatient.”
Anderson frowned. “Oh, that sounds scary.”
“More frustrating than anything. Ernest and I had to postpone some of our work, which threw us off schedule.” The doctor smiled. “You know how that is.”
“I do.”
“Speaking of schedules, shall we start? Ernest, there’s an audio recorder in my bottom drawer if you’d rather take notes that way.”
Ernest retrieved the recorder and moved his rolling office chair out of the way so he was close enough to observe Anderson and the doctor without interfering.
The doctor cleared his throat, forcing Anderson’s attention back in his direction. “Are you ready?”
Anderson sat down on the couch and nodded.
“Excellent.”
Using a small remote, the doctor dimmed the lights until only a single, recessed light above them lit the room.
The intern faded into the shadows, his outline visible but indistinct. With a pale, shaking hand, Ernest set the voice recorder on the desk, angling it until the microphone was pointed in his direction.
Panic welled in the pit of Anderson’s belly, and his thumb itched to start counting. Licking his lips, he cleared his throat, thumb poised and ready. “I’m not comfortable recording this.”
The doctor’s face remained calm. “This is how it needs to be done.” His voice was low, steady to the point of monotony. “If you truly wish to heal, you need to be willing to give up control.”
“I’m really uncomfortable.”
“Change is uncomfortable,” the doctor said in a flat tone, unbothered by Anderson’s protests.
His thumb twitched toward his pinky. “I don’t want to lose control.”
“Control is an illusion.” When the corner of Anderson’s lip twitched, the doctor tilted his head. “Have you been taking your medication?”
“Yes.”
The scratching of the doctor’s pen on the yellow notepad paper set Anderson’s teeth on edge. His thumb flexed, fingers ready.
“I see your fingers twitching. Are you sure you’ve been taking the medication as prescribed?”
“Every day at the same time.” He had an alarm set to the minute.
“And how many do you have left?”
“Two.”
The doctor checked the calendar on his desk and made a tsking sound. “You should have four left. What happened?”
“I dropped the bottle and couldn’t find two.”
The doctor became motionless, his expression indifferent, but his sharp words didn’t match his demeanor. “That was careless of you.”
Deeply ashamed, Anderson lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I tried to refill it at the pharmacy, but the pharmacist couldn’t find any information on my prescription.” He retrieved the small yellow bottle from his jacket pocket, shaking it to prove there were only two pills left.
“It’s a proprietary formula not yet available to the general public.”
Anderson’s spine stiffened, alarm forcing his thumb against his pinky. “Has it been cleared by the FDA?”
The doctor’s eyes bore into him. “How well did the FDA-cleared medications you’ve been on before work?”
“They didn’t.” Anderson leaned back into the couch cushion, letting out
