be some sense of accomplishment. I wish Sisyphus could pretend his task is almost complete or that a reward for his pain will soon follow. But as the story goes, before these thoughts can even begin to take root in his mind, the rock starts to creak and tremble and then it thunders downward. And, of course, he has to run after it. Down, down, down to the very bottom, where he stands in the muck. Breathless. Staring back up at a peak that looks so damn far, far away. And there is no choice but to place his palms against the gritty rock, push, and go back up again.
Up. Up. Up I go.
I wake.
I shower.
I brush my teeth.
I dress.
I eat two pieces of toast.
I follow my mom to the car.
I hold my hand up to shade my eyes, paining from the bright sun.
Ever since the OD, I feel like I’m this glass doll that everyone can peer into. Everyone knows my secrets now: my mom, Crystal, everyone at the hospital. I’m embarrassed to see Eric because he will know all of this too, even about Michael. But my mother is driving me to the appointment and she told me she’s going to take me straight to the door, so I’ll have no choice but to go.
Of course, Eric is cool about everything. He doesn’t make me feel like an idiot. He tells me I don’t have to go into everything that happened because I signed that form at the hospital and they updated him. Even though he does nothing to make me feel guilty, I do. I don’t take off my winter hat when I’m in his office. It’s so low on my forehead it almost covers my eyes. I wish I could disappear right under it. I bring my fingers up to my mouth and start biting my nails, almost non-existent now. “I’m sorry I never told you.”
“What’s that?”
I can barely force the words up my throat. I haven’t used this voice, my real voice, Melissa’s voice, in so long. I decide right then and there, no matter how hard it is, I’ll stop being Echo with Eric. I mean, I’m not ready to give her up entirely, but it doesn’t make sense for me to keep shutting out my counsellor. He’s proven I can trust him. And if I don’t start with someone I can trust, who will I ever tell my real feelings to? “I’m sorry I never told you about my boyfriend. About Michael.”
“Oh. It’s okay, Melissa. You don’t need to tell me everything. You had reasons for not telling me at the time. I can respect that.”
I stare down at my fingers, inspecting them as I speak. It’s difficult being honest! Even though I want to put Michael behind me, I still feel compelled to explain, because I feel like I was lying all this time, sending him down the wrong path and wasting his time. “Well … it was a while ago. I didn’t want to say. ’Cause he was older. But that’s why I was so sad for so long. That’s why I’m such a wreck. I think that’s what was happening to me.”
“Thanks for telling me, Melissa. It helps me understand a little better what’s happening with you. Love is an amazing thing, isn’t it? But when you lose it, it can be so devastating. Do you want to tell me about him?”
“No!” I say decisively. “I’m finished with him.”
“Okay,” he says casually, nodding his head.
I look away. A few seconds of silence pass like hours. I feel like an idiot for being so weak about a guy. Eric clears his throat. I’m staring into the goldfish bowl. Waiting. I can’t look at him. I tap on the fishbowl and pretend to be interested in Amphitrite, waiting for him to speak again.
“The psychiatrist talked to you about depression? She gave you some medication? How’s that feeling? I know it’s early. You may not notice any change for some time.”
I’m relieved he’s switched the subject, even though I know he’ll probably come back to it during another session. I shrug my shoulders. “I feel okay. I mean, I haven’t been doing anything, so it’s hard to tell.”
He tells me he knows a really good psychiatrist I could see regularly whom he knows I’d like. He says he could make an appointment, just to talk. I don’t have to commit to anything.