The Moon's Boy

Chapter Sixteen

"I'm not so sure about doing this anymore," said Kadir, staring at the imposing dark door in front of him. Dr Lydia Reed was carved into a small gold plate screwed into the wood, and the very thought of knocking on it made Kadir's body tremble with dread.

"It's alright, sunshine. My mother won't bite," cooed Clementine, stroking his arm. "It's your first session so she'll be gentle with you. Plus, you can leave whenever you like, even before the session is finished." When the nerves clearly showing on his face didn't dissipate, she added, "You don't have to do this if you don't want to.  We can always try this later."

Leave. "I... I think I'll go in."

Clementine beamed. "I'm proud of you." The girl knocked on the door in front of them and a quiet "come in" resounded from inside. "Good luck." He nodded.

He stepped inside the hushed room of leather browns and burgundy; Lydia sat reclined in an overstuffed armchair, the frigid black of her dress stark against the warm tones surrounding her. A lone potted plant grew on her right—a tower of lush green in the room of subdued colours. "Good morning, Kadir."

"H-Hello Ms Reed."

She gestured over at the beige chaise longue underneath a curtained window that held back most of the sunlight from outside, giving the room a desert halo. "Please, make yourself comfortable." Kadir sat down, playing with the silver ring on his finger to distract himself from the shaking of his hands.

"So, how are you this morning?"

"I'm doing well, thank you," he replied, avoiding her relaxed eye contact. Liar. He wasn't doing well; he was nervous out of his mind to be alone with her but the answer came out as smoothly as it always did. Saying he was fine made life easier.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Lydia. She picked up a shiny black pen from the side of the desk closest to her and held it in her fingers. It seemed like the heavy, expensive kind from the way she tilted it and it was then he noticed the small book on her lap. She's going to be studying you, freak. He shuddered at the thought of being observed. "I heard it was my daughter Clementine who recommended you come see me professionally."

"She wasn't the only one," he replied.

Lydia smiled, an expression tipped with self-satisfaction and the non-arrogant kind of pride. "My reputation precedes me it seems." Kadir said nothing; she quickly filled the pause. "Why did you decide to come and see me in the end?"

I need to be fixed. He stared at the floor. Her gentle gaze didn't waver as she waited patiently for his answer. When it became apparent he wasn't going to, she shifted slightly, the soles of her heels clicking against the floor. The silence was warm.

"Your episode from the other day hasn't escaped my memory," Lydia said softly. Kadir flinched, the memory flooding back into his mind. How embarrassing. Lydia's voice was like mature honey aged in a barrel of oak as she spoke to him; he couldn't help but tremble as the sound of her voice filtered over his body. "For how long have you been having panic attacks?"

Since I was twelve. The words wouldn't leave his mouth. Try as he might to say them, his lips refused to open. Another moment of silence. "For a while."

"I see. Have you ever been diagnosed with a mental illness by a professional?"

Several times. He nodded. The light scratch of her pen against paper filled the pause. "Alright, and did you receive treatment for the diagnosis or diagnoses?"

He nodded again. "Talk therapy? Medications?" I'm heavily medicated and I don't like therapists. I don't even know why I'm here. He nodded twice more. "I'll take that as a yes to both." She wrote some more things down and all Kadir could do was listen to the tick of the clock sitting somewhere in the room as it crept its way into his psyche like darkness in a vignette picture.