“Sooooo . . .” I said, exaggeratedly awkward, as if the awkwardness were an inside joke between us. “What . . . do we do now?” I glanced at the clock floating above her head. A half hour to go; God, I hated filling this time.
“Well,” she said. “We’ve talked about it before, and . . . I think you’re right. It sounds like you don’t need to be seeing me any more.”
A year of biweekly meetings, and this is how it ends. The lack of ceremony was killing me.
“So . . .” I prodded merrily, squinting an eye, “I’m cured, doctor?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Well for heaven’s sake, I didn’t say –”
“I’m cured, I’m cured!” I cried, pumping my arms in joy.
“Nobody’s ever cured.”
“Yeah, you’re right . . . I’ll probably see you later. Ah well. Thanks.” I stood up dejectedly. “Have a good one, now.”
“See you later Adrianne.”
And the door closed behind me with a shhhhhhhh.