“She knows,” Dr. Alexander replied, then led us through the lobby and to a long hallway. “My office is right down here on the right.”
I remained a step or two behind them. When she turned to speak to me, there was no polite smile on her face, and those eyes didn’t warm. Whether it was her intention or not, she was very intimidating. If I had come here to do my sister any real harm, meeting Dr. Alexander would have given me second thoughts, if it didn’t send me into a quick retreat immediately.
The first thing I thought of when we entered her office was that this probably was where Haylee came for her sessions. There were two pictures on the walls, one a seascape and the other a view of a lavender field with mountains on the horizon. They were both prints, pretty but not in any way extraordinary. Her desk was a light wood, like some school desk, with not much on it besides a long notepad, a closed laptop, and a receptacle for paper clips and pens. I saw no pictures of family anywhere. I didn’t even see the usual plaques doctors and dentists keep on their walls to reveal their degrees and schools. There was no sense of her. Actually, it appeared to be an office anyone could share. Maybe it was.
The window behind the desk faced the rear of the building, where there was nothing more than grass, some rolling hills, and patches of woods. There was very little activity to distract a patient in counseling. To the right of the desk and angled to face it was a soft black-cushioned settee, and to the left of the desk were shelves with binders organized by date. On one of the shelves was a small clock in a wooden cabinet that looked like a cheap souvenir clock bought at some store for tourists in Switzerland.
Haylee would feel uncomfortable here, I thought, because I did, and not simply because it was a psychiatrist’s office. It was too austere. She’d hate the view and hate that there was so little to distract her. Maybe she’d look down and count floor tiles. I remembered how she could frustrate our school guidance counselor, Ms. Lothrop, with her clear disinterest, interrupting her constantly with questions about her family pictures and her plaques.
Dr. Alexander sat behind her desk and nodded at the settee. “Please,” she said.
My father waited for me to sit and then sat himself.
“What do you hope to accomplish with this visit today?” Dr. Alexander asked me immediately. It sounded more like a demand, almost an accusation. Someone cruder would have asked, “Why did you come here? What do you want? Why can’t you leave her alone and let her get well? Why the hell are you interfering?” She leaned forward in anticipation of my reply.
“I’m not going to start yelling at her or anything,” I said.
She stared, obviously waiting for another, fuller answer. I glanced at my father. He looked just as interested in my response as Dr. Alexander might be.
“Nothing my sister has done to me was as bad as this, of course,” I began, “but I always felt, hoped, that she was sorry for what she did. I don’t think she hates me, and I don’t want to hate her for the rest of my life, either. I thought we still might share that idea.”
I didn’t see a smile on her face as much as I saw a glint of approval in her eyes, even a little appreciation. She resembled how one of my teachers would look if I had grasped a particularly difficult problem or concept well, something he or she had taken great pains to explain. She gave my father a slight nod, confirming, I imagined, that what he had told her about me was correct.
“Very well. I’m going to take you to a sort of interview room. It’s just a room with a metal table and two chairs,” she said. “You can be alone with your sister, but I will be watching and listening to the two of you. Only me,” she added, raising her eyebrows, I thought, for my father’s benefit as much as mine.
“Through one of those one-way mirror windows?”
“Yes,” she said, finally giving me a real smile. “I’m sure you appreciate why.”
“Do you consider my sister dangerous?”
Her smile flew off her face like a frightened bird leaping off a branch. “I don’t answer questions about your sister asked by anyone but official personnel,” she said. “But if I considered her dangerous, I certainly wouldn’t allow the visit.”
“Has my sister been in that room before?” I asked, ignoring her indignation.
“Why?”
“Because she’d realize what the mirror really was. She might not be honest. She would know she had an audience. My sister always likes an audience. More than I do,” I quickly added before she could ask.
All my life, whenever anything was said about one of us, whoever heard it always asked if either Haylee or I felt the same way, happy or unhappy about it. We knew Mother wanted us to say yes, but she wasn’t with me now, and even if she were, I wouldn’t say yes. I didn’t think I ever would again, even if it was true.
Dr. Alexander thought a moment and sat back like she was reconsidering the wisdom of my seeing Haylee. “What are your feelings right now?” she asked. “Now that you’re here and about
to do this.”
Since I had brought up Haylee’s dishonesty, I wondered just how honest I should be. At the moment, this felt like another security scan. If I didn’t answer correctly, I’d be turned around and marched right out and off the grounds.
“A mixture of fear, anger, and curiosity,” I replied. “I’m nervous about seeing her. Maybe once I do, I’ll just turn around and walk out. Maybe I’ll start crying. I don’t know. That’s why I came, to see what my reaction to her would be and her reaction to me. Someday we have to meet, and I thought, why not now? Enough time has passed for me. I hope it has for her as well.”
Does she stare at Haylee like this after she answers one of her questions? I wondered. I didn’t look away or down.
Because of the long pause, I thought that just as I expected, she was going to tell us she had changed her mind, but instead, she rose.
“You are free to remain here, Mr. Fitzgerald,” she told my father. “The session your daughters will have together will be for fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you,” my father said. He nodded to me, and I stood. Then he reached for my hand. It was just a gentle squeeze, a little assurance that he was right here for me.
“This way,” Dr. Alexander said, and she opened her office door.