3-18-2020 Fiction

The Good Doctor, 1

Her psychologist got up from behind his huge oak desk, walked over to her side, and locked the door. She raised her eyebrow at the gesture but wasn't sure what to say. Perhaps this was some part of the therapy, a newer approach she wasn't familiar with, and she was too timid to question it aside from her facial expression. Dr. Keane didn't seem to notice and returned to his desk. He sat down and let out an exaggerated sigh as if he was tired of it being Monday. All her appointments have been Mondays and she heard some sort of crack against the beginning of the week each session. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward.

Alanna was curled up on the chaise lounge with only her dirty shoes hanging over its edge. She had already taken the throw pillow to her chest and wrapped it in her arms, like usual. Something felt less than usual today, though, but she couldn't put her finger on it even when he had abruptly locked the door. She wasn't sure if she should just start at some random point or what Keane expected so she stared at the empty box of Kleenex on the coffee table in between her and the doctor.

“Why do you come here?” He asked her. His voice sounded on edge. Had she upset him somehow? She cradled the pillow a bit tighter and only looked up from the Kleenex box for a second or two before becoming interested in the box again. There was silence for what seemed several minutes. She hadn't heard him get up when suddenly a hand smacked the empty box to the other side of the small room. He stood over her, to the side, and repeated his question firmly. Alanna looked up at him bewildered.

“I- I don't know,” she stammered. His face regained composure as if they were finally getting somewhere today and he went back to sit down. She, very quietly, asked about his locking the door. He leaned forward and tilted his head. She repeated her question a bit louder.

“The form of therapy I'm thinking of using isn't very conventional,” he explained in a low voice, “And should things get out of hand, I want you secured.” His explanation did nothing to ease her concern and she knew he could read it on her face because he added, “Just part of my responsibility to keep you safe. You do trust me to keep you safe, don't you?”

“Of course I do,” she said not certain if that was a lie or not. Alanna tried real hard to believe that, she wanted to believe, and that's what counted after all, right? She nodded to herself and Dr. Keane alike.

“Now, tell me again why you love the idea of being stalked,” he instructed. Alanna's eyes sort of bugged out of her head but Keane's face showed no emotion. She didn't recall ever having said that even in past sessions and knew for a fact she hadn't said that today. It's not even something she would say.

“I, uh, what?” She asked. He didn't respond. He took up his huge note pad and furiously scribbled a line or two down then looked back at her. He seemed to be still waiting for an answer. “Well,” she started and paused trying to think of something, “I don't … know?” Again Keane's face seemed pleased with her response.

“Do you think it's normal to love the idea of being manipulated as well?” He pressed on. Alanna was sure the good doctor had lost his marbles. She gave the same pat response as earlier and again he jotted something down and seemed pleased with her.

Dr. Keane continued to ask questions that made absolutely no sense to her and she gave the same idiotic answer to each of them. Every time, though, it seemed he was more and more pleased. He began to smile widely at her, reassuring her by his growing buoyancy that she was doing great. Then his face suddenly fell back into the sour expression he had when she first came in.

“Now, tell me again why you love the idea of being stalked,” he asked. Alanna blinked at him with disbelief and confusion. She tilted her head slightly and gave him the same answer she gave the first time he had asked. He went through and repeated the series of strange, leading questions. His demeanor followed the same pattern of going from stern to cheerful. Then, just as she felt they'd move along now, he started all over again. Alanna had had enough.

“That's the third time you asked me that question and it's fifteen minutes past the time my appointment ends,” she declared pointing at her watch. Dr. Keane's face grew concerned. He scribbled something on his note pad and then cleared his throat.

“Alanna, that was my first question and you haven't even been here for fifteen minutes yet,” he responded, “Here, take a mint. Mondays are stressful and I've found peppermint tends to help my patients unwind.” He pointed to a glass jar at the edge of his desk. Confused, she took one to be polite and popped it in her mouth as she double-checked the time on her watch. He repeated his question and she looked up at him and gave him the automatic response.

He went through the same series again and by the end of the questions, Alanna started to feel light-headed, a bit giddy and soon got caught up in Keane jubilant reactions to her answers. When she had answered the very last question, she started to get up from the lounge by putting the pillow back behind her but Keane put up his hand gesturing her to stop.

“I know you're excited to start the weekend, Alanna, but you just got here. I'm excited on Fridays too, but we have work to do,” he scolded her slightly.

“But it's Monday,” was all she blurted out.

“No, Alanna, it's Friday,” Dr. Keane said almost chuckling at her as if she were being silly on purpose, “Here, try one of these mints and we'll get started.” He again pointed to the glass jar and again, she felt helpless but to take another.

“Now, tell me again why you love the idea of being stalked,” he began.

By this point, Alanna was bored with her noncommittal responses. She started making up elaborate reasons she loved whatever it was he asked her about. He went from grumpy looking to very excited faster now. He wrote less and less in his notepad seeming to pay more attention to look at her. She noticed how intensely blue the doctor's eyes were.

“And why do you have these fantasies of being handcuffed?” He asked. She had to put more thought into this one to craft up a response he would enjoy.

“I like the idea of being helpless,” she started with a devious gleam in her eyes but then stopped. Why was she flirting with her psychologist, she wondered. Dr. Keane practically lit up over her answer. He acted as if there had been an important breakthrough in her care and despite not knowing what, Alanna joined in his celebration. They both got carried away for a moment then he cleared his throat. He added new questions now, reminding her about how intoxicating she found interrogation. She became excited about it if only from seeing his expression, practically drooling as he asked her more and more details about it before moving onto the next question.

Alanna heard the distinct whirl of a vacuum sweeper running outside of the office and turned towards the door. Dr. Keane apologized swiftly and said he'd go take care of that. He paused at the door before opening it and said over his shoulder, “Help yourself to one of those mints, you've got to taste them.”

Alanna didn't hesitate to grab a few of them and eat. He came back a few seconds later but she couldn't actually tell if the noise had stopped or not. Sounds seemed like they were blending together into one long, loud hum in her ears. Instead of going to his desk, Keane sat opposite her on the chaise and pulled out a black blindfold. For a brief second, she considered the blindfold would help the sudden dizziness, but then a thought- a concern- broke through her clouded thinking and she began to protest pointing at his blindfold. Keane shushed at her very gently, soothing.

“I'm going to try a new method of therapy for you today,” he said motioning her forward. She reluctantly leaned over and he fixed the blindfold over her eyes. “Now, in order to keep you safe, I'm asking permission to secure your hands behind your back, just temporarily.”

“No!” Alanna said immediately.

“No? You just told me to do this because you can't do it yourself. Have you changed your mind then?” He asked her and pulled the blindfold up onto her forehead showing her some handcuffs, “You said you bought these at a shop on the way here, and hey, I am totally comfortable with exposure therapy to help you get over your fear of them unless you are changing your mind.”

Alanna looked at him then at the handcuffs. They did look familiar to her and she had stopped somewhere on her way to his office today, she just couldn't remember where. And she did feel scared at the sight of them. Keane didn't take well to her hesitation.

“I can't help you if you're not willing to do the work,” he said firmly. She slowly nodded her head in agreement. She pulled her arms behind herself and he stood up to secure them with the cuffs. Then, he flicked the blindfold back into place.

“Sara, you look so pretty right now,” he said softly by her ear.

“I'm not Sara,” she responded after some delay. Her voice seemed soft but thick; thick enough to drop to the floor under its own weight. Dr. Keane quietly chuckled.

“You filled out your paperwork as Sara, you've always responded to the name Sara. Why do you now think your name isn't your name?” The doctor asked. She thought about this and realized she wasn't entirely sure her name wasn't indeed Sara. It was a pretty name and she looked pretty right now. Keane's voice sounded content, even happy, with her and she liked that very much. She told him so.

“Well, that's a great start, Sara,” Dr. Keane said, “Now Sara, tell me why you love the idea of being kidnapped.”