find them interesting.”
“My mother chose my name. Her people were Scottish,” Leith said. “My father’s side was German.”
“I see. Perhaps the connection exists only in my mind then.”
Leith waited, but Dr. Thakur said nothing else. “So you’re not going to share? You’re just going to drop something like that into our session and expect me to ignore it?”
“Not ignore it. Ponder it, maybe. But if you’re curious, have you ever heard of the River Lethe? No? According to Greek myth, it was one of the five rivers in the Greek underworld. The dead were forced to drink from the waters of Lethe in order to erase their memory of their life on earth.”
“I haven’t heard of it.”
“According to the Greek beliefs, some might say that during the time you were in a coma you traveled to the underworld, consumed the water of Lethe, and then returned instead of going on across the River Styx. Some might say that’s how you came to lose your memories.”
He scoffed. “Who would say that?”
“Long ago Greeks, perhaps.”
“Well, some might say that you’re stranger than any of your patients.”
Dr. Thakur grinned. “Indeed. I think we both agree some would be right on that account. But consider it a moment, Leith. The waters of Lethe. Is there a lesson in the concept of the river of forgetting you can embrace?”
“Don’t drink the Kool-Aid?”
“Nicely played,” Dr. Thakur said. “But don’t sell yourself short here, Leith. Give it some thought.”
Leith crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged.
“In the meantime, you were telling me about Zachariah — ”
“Jehovah remembers.”
“ — and how you liked his name.”
Leith shrugged. He’d lost the thread of his original comment. His mind drifted back to Zach and the way his hands moved when he talked, and the exciting sound of his laugh. He wished he could remember what had attracted him to Zach the first time. Had it been there from the beginning? Or had it been a gradual fall? How had he taken it, he wondered? Because he wasn’t sure he would have taken it well. He’d always focused his attention on women. He’d never allowed himself to seriously consider a man before.
Leith sighed.
“Sounds heavy,” Dr. Thakur said.
“I just wish I could remember.”
“I know. It would make things simpler, I’m sure.”
If he was Lethe, a river of forgetting, and Zach was about remembering, what did that mean? Who exactly was Jehovah — was that another name for God? — and what was it he remembered? Everything? Or nothing?
Dr. Thakur cleared his throat. “That’s all for today, Leith. I’m sorry to cut our session short, but my son has a football tournament this afternoon, and I promised I’d attend.” He frowned at the window. “They play rain or shine, I’m afraid.”
Leith stood up and ran his hands over the jeans Arthur had brought in the day before. Leith felt like it was progress to start dressing in real clothes again. Arthur had also brought shirts, including a blue polo that was very similar to the yellow one Zach had worn. “It’s from Zach,” Arthur had told him. “He thought you’d like it.”
Leith had rubbed the fabric against his cheek. “Yeah. It’s soft.” He must have sounded strange because Arthur had made a face at him. Now, Leith crossed over to Dr. Thakur’s door, and he smoothed his hand over the front of his shirt, remembering the way Zach’s shoulder had felt against his palm.
“Leith? One last thing. What is the significance of the birds you keep making in art therapy? Do you know?”
Leith fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I think I just like birds.”
Dr. Thakur’s eyebrows lifted, and it was clear he didn’t believe him, but Leith walked out anyway. He made his way to the door to the rose garden. He stood in the open threshold and listened to the drone of the rain.
After several minutes of feeling the spray of it against his face as it pelted the sidewalk, Leith
“My mother chose my name. Her people were Scottish,” Leith said. “My father’s side was German.”
“I see. Perhaps the connection exists only in my mind then.”
Leith waited, but Dr. Thakur said nothing else. “So you’re not going to share? You’re just going to drop something like that into our session and expect me to ignore it?”
“Not ignore it. Ponder it, maybe. But if you’re curious, have you ever heard of the River Lethe? No? According to Greek myth, it was one of the five rivers in the Greek underworld. The dead were forced to drink from the waters of Lethe in order to erase their memory of their life on earth.”
“I haven’t heard of it.”
“According to the Greek beliefs, some might say that during the time you were in a coma you traveled to the underworld, consumed the water of Lethe, and then returned instead of going on across the River Styx. Some might say that’s how you came to lose your memories.”
He scoffed. “Who would say that?”
“Long ago Greeks, perhaps.”
“Well, some might say that you’re stranger than any of your patients.”
Dr. Thakur grinned. “Indeed. I think we both agree some would be right on that account. But consider it a moment, Leith. The waters of Lethe. Is there a lesson in the concept of the river of forgetting you can embrace?”
“Don’t drink the Kool-Aid?”
“Nicely played,” Dr. Thakur said. “But don’t sell yourself short here, Leith. Give it some thought.”
Leith crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged.
“In the meantime, you were telling me about Zachariah — ”
“Jehovah remembers.”
“ — and how you liked his name.”
Leith shrugged. He’d lost the thread of his original comment. His mind drifted back to Zach and the way his hands moved when he talked, and the exciting sound of his laugh. He wished he could remember what had attracted him to Zach the first time. Had it been there from the beginning? Or had it been a gradual fall? How had he taken it, he wondered? Because he wasn’t sure he would have taken it well. He’d always focused his attention on women. He’d never allowed himself to seriously consider a man before.
Leith sighed.
“Sounds heavy,” Dr. Thakur said.
“I just wish I could remember.”
“I know. It would make things simpler, I’m sure.”
If he was Lethe, a river of forgetting, and Zach was about remembering, what did that mean? Who exactly was Jehovah — was that another name for God? — and what was it he remembered? Everything? Or nothing?
Dr. Thakur cleared his throat. “That’s all for today, Leith. I’m sorry to cut our session short, but my son has a football tournament this afternoon, and I promised I’d attend.” He frowned at the window. “They play rain or shine, I’m afraid.”
Leith stood up and ran his hands over the jeans Arthur had brought in the day before. Leith felt like it was progress to start dressing in real clothes again. Arthur had also brought shirts, including a blue polo that was very similar to the yellow one Zach had worn. “It’s from Zach,” Arthur had told him. “He thought you’d like it.”
Leith had rubbed the fabric against his cheek. “Yeah. It’s soft.” He must have sounded strange because Arthur had made a face at him. Now, Leith crossed over to Dr. Thakur’s door, and he smoothed his hand over the front of his shirt, remembering the way Zach’s shoulder had felt against his palm.
“Leith? One last thing. What is the significance of the birds you keep making in art therapy? Do you know?”
Leith fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I think I just like birds.”
Dr. Thakur’s eyebrows lifted, and it was clear he didn’t believe him, but Leith walked out anyway. He made his way to the door to the rose garden. He stood in the open threshold and listened to the drone of the rain.
After several minutes of feeling the spray of it against his face as it pelted the sidewalk, Leith
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