A River of Tears

All in the Mind

Chapter 3 ~ All in the Mind

River's POV

I turned the door knob and entered an office. My first impression was a sense of coziness. 'Of course!', my conscience chided me. 'That's exactly how they want you to feel!' I mentally agreed and sat down.

"Hello, Mrs. Song." The psychologist introduced himself as Mr. Shawn Jacobs. I shook his hand lightly, to let him know that I was not very comfortable. Then I sat down. Just the thought of having to tell him all my problems and secrets was bad enough. Not to mention taking advice from someone I didn't know. Certifications and diplomas didn't mean anything to me.

"How are you today?" He wondered aloud a few seconds after I had seated myself. "I'm fine," I replied shortly. This man, Mr. Jacobs, would have to work extra hard if he wanted such personal information from me. He seemed ready to do so, however.

"Mrs. Song, would you mind telling me a few basic bits of information about yourself?" He inquired with a pointed stare. The many gears in my mind turned as they tried to figure out what to reveal. As if he saw what I was thinking, Mr. Jacobs added, "You can tell me anything." There was several seconds of silence before I spoke.

"I am a married woman with no children, and no siblings. My parents grew up in Leadworth." I finished smugly. That was as basic as possible. I couldn't include my age because the numbers were too high to make sense. No need for him to worry about that.

"I see." Mr. Jacobs paused for a moment. "And who are you married to?" He asked. 'A 900-year-old alien,' was what my brain came up with. My actual reply was, "Mr. John Smith. He travels the world for his job." It seemed to be the closest human occupation to time traveler.

"And what does your husband look like?" He asked curiously. "Excuse me? Why do you need to know what my husband looks like?" I retorted rapidly. The words flew out of mouth before I could stop them, but it's not like I cared. My body posture suggested escape in every way possible. I had scooted forward so I was on the edge of my chair. Mr. Jacobs apologized and tried again. "How does your perception of your husband affect life experiences you may have?"

I let my brain take a few seconds to answer on that one. The only reason was so that I wouldn't completely explode on this poor, innocent human. "I don't see why these questions have anything to do with me getting help." I told him shortly. Was he trying to check for my husband's existence, to make sure he was real? Whatever this man was doing, it was causing me to trust him even lesser than before.

I didn't see how Mr. Jacobs thought he was going to accomplish learning anything beyond the basics about me. I didn't even trust the Doctor with everything, so why was I going to trust someone I'd just met? Needing help and wanting help are two different things. The Doctor brings out the best and worst parts of me. Sometimes I refused to tell him things, and he learns to accept it.

I didn't know what to expect from a psychologist, but it was very obvious I was not prepared for the fountain of questions Mr. Jacobs had for me. "Okay, we'll leave the topic of your mysterious husband." He said, and complied with my wishes to change the subject, the first real surprise of my visit. Mr. Jacobs hesitated before asking yet another question.

"Did you come here of your own accord or did someone nudge you to be here?" He asked gently. My no-fun-and-games attitude was hard to miss as I informed him that "my husband gave the suggestion." "Ah, I see," was Mr. Jacobs quiet reply. He knew enough now to skip to another question.

"What event has altered your life in the greatest way possible?" The psychologist wondered aloud. I actually considered replying truthfully to the question. The more I thought about it, the Doctor would probably continue to send me back to this dreaded place until I changed. This revelation made me take a deep breath.

"The loss of my childhood." I replied honestly. Mr. Jacobs shook his head, almost as if to say, 'Now we're getting somewhere.' After a small gap of silence, he asked, "How does that make you feel?" I was stunned he hadn't asked for any details regarding my childhood, but thankful nonetheless.

"I wish I had spent that time with my real parents instead." I informed Mr. Jacobs, who nodded again. "Wishful thinking," he murmured to himself as his pen flew across a paper on the clipboard, writing hidden words. When Mr. Jacobs was finished jotting down notes, he stood up.

"Thank you for joining me today, Mrs. Song. I hope this talk has helped you to feel better than before. I'll see you tomorrow, same time." He said as he bid me good bye. I replied with a thin-lipped smile, the only gratitude I felt for this whole deal. I didn't feel any better than before, and it almost angered me how my husband thought that would work. Did the Doctor really think it'd be so simple?