She snaps her fingers, but I don’t hear it—I pretend that I don’t hear it at all. She insists with thirty-three snaps and I turn to her with a bored look, but I am annoyed. She tells me I’m doing it again, zoning out when I talk to her. She says I should just answer what she asks, as simple as that, but it has never been easy for me so I guess being a doctor helps you get rid of these… emptiness.
“Again, dear, why do you think you feel safe when you swim?”
This time, I look at her—I truly look at her. I watch the pupils of her eyes dilate and I catch the small space between her two, red lips. I want to kiss those, I think. I want to devour them and mark her skin with my touch. But she’s my doctor and my parents will deem it inappropriate. They will curse me, tell me I am the devil’s son, and will pray to God that He should just send me in the purgatory. I will like the purgatory, anyway, I think.
My doctor is beautiful, but so clueless; she thinks she knows me with her scientific approaches. “Why do you use ‘safe’, doctor?” I ask her.
“Because you don’t ‘belong’ in the water, dear. You belong in this world, you are a part of it. I said ‘safe’ because I feel you are using the water as your shield, as your mechanism to block out your passiveness,” she says. “How do you feel right now?”
There is a rock in my lungs. The ropes around my ribs are too tight. My head is in the infinite fog. My eyes love to wander around. My mind is a vast void. I think everybody is having their kind of happiness when I don’t even have a choice or an option or both. My words sound natural to me. Why did this doctor ask me about sensation? “I feel…”
The round-shaped clock on her polished, mahogany table rings. “All right, we’ll continue this next week.” She closes her notebook, removes her red glasses that make her look like my grandmother, and sighs. She sighs, for god’s sake.
I walk out of her plain, dull room without saying a word. I’m not sure if I’ll schedule another session for next week, but I might, just to see her persistence. I take out a bottle of pills in my pocket. My other doctor, this man one who rubs his hand on my arm too much but with my permission because I like it and I want him to, gave it to me and said it will make me want to swim in the water more. I fish out two oblong, white candies and melt them in my tongue.
I hold my cellphone with my trembling hands, just in case I need my brother to pick me up on the pavement. Or scratch that—I will just call my other doctor to take care of me. I can’t wait to faint.
WORD COUNT: 513
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