trance—she had decided right then and there, during her lunch break on shift, she’d try and catch the hospital’s main psychiatrist, Dr. Josh Howell. She had called him in the morning after tracking down his number, asking if he had a spare ten minutes during his lunch break. He agreed, asking Melissa to come see him in his office at one that afternoon.
His office was on the second floor of the main hospital, the first of a long line of offices she had no reason to visit before. There was a strong smell of bleach along the corridor. It was pungent, almost stinging her eyes. As she passed by, she noted the nameplates on the doors. This was the main area for the psychologists, psychiatrists, and counselors employed by the hospital. Although many of those professionals worked in other wards—such as the mental health unit, the A & E department, and in the community—they were based here, at the rear of the second floor.
Dr. Josh Howell’s office was bright, colorful, and charming, which surprised her. There were no dull rows of books behind him, no gray sofa lining the wall. Instead, there was a huge window bleeding in bright light from the sun outside, two large plants looming in two corners behind the desk—giving the room life—and the walls were painted a light orange color. It all seemed at odds with what she had come to expect in a psychiatrist’s office.
What had shocked her more though, as she knocked, entered, and took a seat opposite the man, was how youthful and energetic he looked. Melissa guessed he must have been newly qualified, but she didn’t say anything as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She placed her handbag on the floor beside her feet and smiled. “Thanks for seeing me.”
Dr. Howell smiled, too, and it seemed to be sincere to her, warm. His eyes were bright blue, a stark contrast to his thick, black hair. A light carpet of stubble ran the length of his cheeks down to his chin, and he leaned forward on the desk, seeming eager to hear what she had to say. “No problem at all. I usually stay here on my lunch break, anyway,” he said. “I’m like a sad school kid, locking myself away with a packed lunch and avoiding the big kids.”
Melissa laughed. “The big kids? Who are they?”
He laughed breezily. “The more senior of the psych department,” he said. “They are a bloody bore to eat with at lunch. I prefer to stay here.”
“I don’t blame you,” Melissa said. She felt nervous being there. More than that, she felt like she was betraying Mark, somehow. She was there to talk about him, about his change in behavior, and the things he was doing. If he knew, he’d never forgive her. If he knew, she would be hurt, badly.
Melissa fiddled nervously with her wedding band, which was something she did went she felt on edge. The psychiatrist narrowed his eyes on her, then said, “You look like you are worried.”
Melissa forced a smile, but she knew it was a weakened effort, anything but real. She felt conscious of herself, of every move and smile, of every word. These mental health professionals were trained to read something into everything. She wasn’t sure she liked that. “I am worried,” she said at last. “That’s why I need to talk to you. I appreciate this, Doctor.”
He waved his arm, “No, call me Josh. Please.”
Melissa met his eyes and nodded. “Josh, I need to get your opinion on something, but it’s…delicate. What I mean is, I work here, and if what I said got out, then I…basically, it would not only be embarrassing, but people could potentially get hurt.” I could get hurt.
Josh smiled. “Listen. I wouldn’t tell a soul. What you tell me in this office, it’s private. I’m a professional, Melissa, but on top of that, I’m a decent person, and this will go no further than these four walls, unless you request differently.”
Melissa sighed. She still felt nervous, but better now than when she first arrived. She stared at the window,
His office was on the second floor of the main hospital, the first of a long line of offices she had no reason to visit before. There was a strong smell of bleach along the corridor. It was pungent, almost stinging her eyes. As she passed by, she noted the nameplates on the doors. This was the main area for the psychologists, psychiatrists, and counselors employed by the hospital. Although many of those professionals worked in other wards—such as the mental health unit, the A & E department, and in the community—they were based here, at the rear of the second floor.
Dr. Josh Howell’s office was bright, colorful, and charming, which surprised her. There were no dull rows of books behind him, no gray sofa lining the wall. Instead, there was a huge window bleeding in bright light from the sun outside, two large plants looming in two corners behind the desk—giving the room life—and the walls were painted a light orange color. It all seemed at odds with what she had come to expect in a psychiatrist’s office.
What had shocked her more though, as she knocked, entered, and took a seat opposite the man, was how youthful and energetic he looked. Melissa guessed he must have been newly qualified, but she didn’t say anything as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She placed her handbag on the floor beside her feet and smiled. “Thanks for seeing me.”
Dr. Howell smiled, too, and it seemed to be sincere to her, warm. His eyes were bright blue, a stark contrast to his thick, black hair. A light carpet of stubble ran the length of his cheeks down to his chin, and he leaned forward on the desk, seeming eager to hear what she had to say. “No problem at all. I usually stay here on my lunch break, anyway,” he said. “I’m like a sad school kid, locking myself away with a packed lunch and avoiding the big kids.”
Melissa laughed. “The big kids? Who are they?”
He laughed breezily. “The more senior of the psych department,” he said. “They are a bloody bore to eat with at lunch. I prefer to stay here.”
“I don’t blame you,” Melissa said. She felt nervous being there. More than that, she felt like she was betraying Mark, somehow. She was there to talk about him, about his change in behavior, and the things he was doing. If he knew, he’d never forgive her. If he knew, she would be hurt, badly.
Melissa fiddled nervously with her wedding band, which was something she did went she felt on edge. The psychiatrist narrowed his eyes on her, then said, “You look like you are worried.”
Melissa forced a smile, but she knew it was a weakened effort, anything but real. She felt conscious of herself, of every move and smile, of every word. These mental health professionals were trained to read something into everything. She wasn’t sure she liked that. “I am worried,” she said at last. “That’s why I need to talk to you. I appreciate this, Doctor.”
He waved his arm, “No, call me Josh. Please.”
Melissa met his eyes and nodded. “Josh, I need to get your opinion on something, but it’s…delicate. What I mean is, I work here, and if what I said got out, then I…basically, it would not only be embarrassing, but people could potentially get hurt.” I could get hurt.
Josh smiled. “Listen. I wouldn’t tell a soul. What you tell me in this office, it’s private. I’m a professional, Melissa, but on top of that, I’m a decent person, and this will go no further than these four walls, unless you request differently.”
Melissa sighed. She still felt nervous, but better now than when she first arrived. She stared at the window,
Similar Books
