Page 125 of Heartbeat

“I just think it’s time we talk about a few things,” she said.

“Such as?”

“Do you think therapy is working?”

“Shouldn’t you be telling me that?”

“No, I really don’t think I should,” she said. “I want to know from you. I want your perspective.”

“Uh—Well…” I hesitated. “I think so. Yeah.”

“You think so?” she repeated, somewhat unconvinced.

“There are still some things I can’t quite accept.”

“Which things?”

“I wish the meds could speed things up a bit, for one.”

“Speed what up?”

“I think ‘recovery’ is a term you’d use.”

“But you wouldn’t?” She raised a single brow, looking rather pleased.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Which term would you prefer?”

“I dunno. But not that one.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know if recovery is possible.”

“You don’t think you can get better?”

“I didn’t say that.”

She smiled. Now, that made her look more like herself.

“It takes time, Thomas,” she said.

“Yes. Time.” I rolled my eyes.

“Is that what bothers you?”

“Waiting bothers me. Thinking that’s all I need to do bothers me. It’s bullshit.”

“Why rush things?”

“Rush?” I laughed. “Three years hardly pass by swiftly.”

“Yet, you are not the same boy you were three years ago. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Look, a good thing would be if I got to stop having nightmares; good would be if I could stop feeling sad for no reason, out of nowhere—”

“You think you’re sad for no reason?”

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