Two Worlds - Season 1 - Episode 13

Episode 4 years ago

Two Worlds - Season 1 - Episode 13

The therapist’s door was ajar. Richard tapped and entered. The therapist raised head to him and returned them to the small book on his desk. He placed the book atop others and gave eyes to Richard. They were without his round, archaic specs, and were better off without them.

“Your girl’s lack of the necessary attention hinders rapid recovery,” the therapist said. “If you can’t see her regularly, find someone close to her who can.”

“It’s my work. It steals all my time, and I don’t know anyone close to her. You know her kind. They don’t tell friends of their situation, and you’re aware of her family’s absence.”

“You didn’t visit the whole of last week. If you can’t come often, try to keep contact. Get her a phone.” The therapist opened his glasses case, pulled out his pair of glasses and pushed them to his eyes. It wasn’t the round, archaic one, but a rather rectangular one, probably the one he wore on the pictures that hung at every top corner of the office.
“Doesn’t she have one?”
“If she does, then you should ask for her phone number.”

“I’ll do that.”
“It will curb some of the distance, but you should also come in person as many times as you can. You’re virtually the only one who visits her. Patients here don’t tell many people they are in a psychiatric hospital.”
“Is she in?

“You can’t reach her now. She is being desensitized. Exposure therapy.”
Richard wondered what that meant, but there was no need asking.

The sunrays streaming into the room doubled and landed on his black suit, almost whitening the black. They reminded him he had to be on the road before it got jammed. He brought out the phone and SIM pack from his bag and tossed it to the bed. “I’d use that in contacting you,” he told Ivie.

She held the phone and surveyed every side of it, carrying a face that made it difficult to tell if she liked it or not, if his money was a waste or not.

“I have a phone at home.” She la!d the pack on the bed.

It seemed his money was going to be a waste. “Why didn’t you go get yours ever since? When you didn’t give me a number, I assumed you had none.”

“I never thought a phone was allowed.”
“Anyway, you now have a new phone and a registered SIM. Better.”
“I’ll go get my old one.”
Nothing worked easy with her, not even accepting a mere phone.

The rays in the room brightened. Brightened rays never met him at any place other than his office. She was supposed to be glad he offered her a new phone. Thus, relieving her the worry of going to her house for her old one.

“Thanks, but the one I’m using still works.”

“Where do you stay?”
“Olodi. It isn’t too far. I will go when I have the time.”

The therapist had mentioned he seldom allowed his patients leave the hospital alone because some of them left and never returned. “The therapist won’t allow you go alone.”

“Is the phone necessary?” Her tone concluded it wasn’t.
“I have to contact you regularly. The therapist said it would hasten your recovery.”
She braced her jaw with a palm. “Thank you, Mr Richard, but how will that hasten my recovery?”
“I’m not a psychotherapist. You should ask the doctor. I believe he has his reasons.”
“Mr Richard.” She held out the pack to him. “I wouldn’t want to delay you for work. I’m thankful, but you should return this.” On his refusal to receive it, she la!d it on the bed.
“All right, let’s go to your place and get yours. I will drop you there on my way to work. I think there’s a route linking Olodi to my place of work.”
Her face thickened; a sure sign her next words wouldn’t be likeable. “You’re doing too much.”

“I don’t think that’s too much. You need a phone. It’s a necessity.”
Her cheeks flattened. “I-I don’t—”
That was the part he didn’t like—when her guilt showed up. It shot through her eyes and circled the small sphere of her face. “Ivie, your first encounter with me doesn’t make it wrong for me to help. It wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t feel any guilt.”
She said nothing, did nothing but eyed the milky rug.
“It’s guilt. You’re not conscious of it, but it’s there. Don’t allow it conquer you. Give some room.”

“I’m not used to this kind of help,” she muttered.
“We should get going. I don’t want to reach my office by noon.”