“You want an apple with that?” 

My head snapped to, looking up at the server behind the cafeteria island glass I was staring blankly through. Once I realized she was asking a question, I nodded meekly. I hadn’t really been in a talkative mood ever since my session yesterday with Cadence. Luckily, she gave me the day off from therapy after my dark admission about Lou.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, letting my fingers wrap firmly around the apple and plop it noisily onto my tray. 

As I meandered to the cafeteria exit, I stared out into the large, open dining room, taking in the mostly now abandoned area. It was almost eerie how empty it was, considering the last time I was here it was so busy that it was almost maddening.  The line of children passing by the oddly familiar glass wall on the way to their toy room wasn’t helping either.

Letting out a deep breath, I shook away my thoughts made my way to the furthest table possible. I pushed the chair out and slowly sat down, listening to my bones creak as I did so. I don’t ever remember feeling so utterly exhausted. Or old, for that matter.

“Ahem...” a throat cleared.

I looked up, noticing a familiar face. I was kind of surprised to see her.

“Cadence...” I trailed, smiling slightly before looking back down to my food. “I thought I was free from you today?” 

I heard her chuckle as she moved to sit next to me.

“You are...I just wanted to check on you,” she offered. “What you said yesterday took a lot. I just...wanted to see how you were holding up.”

I nodded and shrugged, using my fork to push food around.

“I’m doing okay,” I offered quietly, still not really looking at her.

Silence surrounded us for a moment, and I could feel her eyes boring into my soul before I felt her hand on my shoulder. The feeling sent shivers down my spine, and I didn’t know why.

“Seriously, I’m okay,” I nodded, swallowing the mush of mashed potatoes dryly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

I shook my head no, not even needing to think about it. “I think I did enough talking for a life time yesterday. I’m okay with not talking about me for a while,” I smiled, weakly.

A few more moments of awkward silence passed between us, and my brain searched for some kind of small talk to make the silence less painful, since I actually did like her presence.

“Really quiet in here today. Last time I was here, it was full of long lines and tons of dudes,” I offered, eliciting a small laugh from her.

“Yeah, I know. It’s normal procedure to keep folks in isolated treatment away from other patients, but I thought it would do you some good to feel a bit of normalcy, even if it is during a non-peak meal time. I didn’t want to bombard you with a bunch of people all at once. Seems like you sometimes like to run away when things get really tough or overwhelming, or at least that’s what it seems from when I first ran into you at Starbucks.”

I laughed a little for the first time in a long time.

“I almost forgot about that,” I offered, pushing food around a little more with my fork. “I never would have thought that you would be a psychiatrist here at sex rehab when I met you at Starbucks...”

She smiled, shrugging. “I’m actually not. I mean, I’m a licensed psychiatrist and psychologist, but my main work was at the Children’s Hospital. My father was in charge of all the medical facilities within a 50 mile radius here...but he’s not really running things anymore...”

I looked up at her, my ears perking when she said that. I could sense a hint of sadness in her voice.

“So you don’t usually deal with patients like me?” I asked.

She shook her head no. “Nope, not at all, actually. I usually deal with 2-10 year old burn victims,” she laughs. “But I felt like we had a bit of a connection and that I might be able to help you. I didn’t want you to walk away angry and completely abandon the possibility of rehab forever. I can tell you have a lot of potential in life...you know, to be happy. Really happy, not just...fake happy.”

I smiled a little. “Fake happy. Thanks,” I offered, feeling for the first time that someone might actually kind of understand me, or at least want to try to do so. Maybe that’s why she was so intriguing to me. 

“So...why are there children here? A fellow patient, Jake -- he said that the old hospital burnt down and that’s why the kids are here. What happened?” 

She shrugged. “Bad wiring. It was a really old building, just a few miles down the road. Not far from Starbucks, actually,” she offered, sipping her coffee easily.

I took a bite of my brownie and watched her mouth enclose over her coffee cup, and for the first time, ever, I didn’t have the urge to throw her down and take advantage of her.

“So now the kids are here while you build a new hospital?” I asked. She nodded in response.  

“It certainly wasn’t an ideal place to put them, but it was one of our only choices. We put security measures in place, and this is our temporary home.”

“How much longer will it take?” I asked, shoving another huge gulp of potatoes in my mouth.

She looked up at me with her large, deep green eyes and sighed with a partial look of defeat. “When we finish fundraising, which feels like it could be forever. Sadly, this is a very small community with limited funds in an economic recession. It may be years before we can build a new building.”

I clear my throat a little, trying not to let my voice get buried under mashed potatoes and brownies. “That’s terrible,” I finally squeak out over my partially chewed food.

A few more moments of silence pass over us, and my thoughts wander back to the time we met in Starbucks, smiling at how feisty she was back then.

“Is that why you were so bitter at Starbucks?” I asked, a hint of playfulness in my tone. “You seemed like you absolutely hated it here. Is this the only thing keeping you here? This hospital?” I asked, curiosity evident in my tone. I wanted to know about her. She was such a mystery to me.

I could tell by the way her eyes moved to her coffee and one of her arms crossed over her chest that she was hesitating. I wasn’t sure if it was me, or if it was the subject matter.

“I really shouldn’t talk about this with you...” she trailed, flicking the edge of her ceramic coffee cup before looking back up at me. “You’re my patient, after all. It’s not very professional of me.”

I shrugged. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to, but it doesn’t really seem like you have anyone else to share with. You obviously don’t seem that happy. And I don’t even really need to be your patient. I could walk out of here whenever I wanted, and you know it.”

She was silent. I took that as a cue to continue.

“I stayed here because of you. I stayed here because for once in my life, I wanted to commit to fixing this, fixing me; and I told you things about myself that I have never told anyone else. You can say it’s because I’m ‘your patient,’ or you can admit that it’s because you and I have a connection. I can open up with you because you’re an individual who intrigues me and makes me feel safe. You may feel strong about not sharing with me because I’m you’re patient, but know that I’m sharing with you because of who you are as an individual, not because you’re a therapist or because you somehow forced me to do so,” I offered.

I took the final bite of my brownie. “If you want someone to talk to, you know where I’m staying.”

I sighed as I stood up. “Don’t be a stranger,” I offered, gently touching her shoulder like she had touched mine. “Sometimes we just need people to believe in us and give us a shoulder to lay our head on. I’m not saying I’m very good at doing that, because to be brutally honest, I never have; but I am saying that I’d do my best to try do it for you because I owe you one.”

She laughed, looking up at me.

“I’ll think about it...” she offered sincerely.

I smiled victoriously. “Good.”

“Good,” she smiled. “See you tomorrow morning in therapy.”

I chuckled and nodded, taking my tray to the return area and disappearing back down my bleak hallway. Maybe I'd figure her out yet.