Still Here

"How are you feeling today?"

"Today is a good day."

"Is it, really?"

"I mean, I think so. I got caught up on some sleep last night"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, and um, it wasn’t as hard coming to work. The appointments I have today are some of my harder cases, they can be a little taxing."

"But it wasn’t as hard to come in today?"

"No.”

“That’s great. It’s progress.”

“Yeah…”

“How are things with the boyfriend?”

“We broke up.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t?”

“I mean, he said…that he couldn’t handle…watching me spiral. How shitty is that?”

“It is definitely hard to watch someone you love and care about hurting and not doing anything to fix it.”

“I’m not doing nothing. I’m dealing, I’m processing.”

“You can barely talk about it.”

“I talk about it all the time.”

“Only with me. Does anyone else know you’ve been having nightmares?”

“…”

“Does anyone else know how long it has been since you did anything fun for yourself.”

“Not going out and spending money doesn’t mean I am not doing anything fun for myself.”

“Ok, what are you doing?”

“Last night, I watched a movie and baked a cake.”

“What movie?”

“Just a movie.”

“Which one? One of the new ones?”

“What are you trying to get at?”

“Emile, I know this is still eating at you.”

“…I…”

“Emile.”

“I just keep thinking that if I just worked harder, stayed later, paid closer attention..."

"The incident wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it? I mean, I was there, we were talking. How can you say it wasn’t my fault?"

"You did help. You help so many people."

"But not enough. Not when it mattered most."

"Tell me about that day."

"We already talked about it, in great detail. Why go over it again? I’ve talked it out enough."

"Because you are letting it run your life."

"No, I’m not. I’m…processing."

"Processing? If you’re still processing then we haven’t talked about it enough and there is still more to go through."

"I just don’t see the point in rehashing that specific day again."

"Then why do you keep seeing me?"

"Should I stop?"

"Why else have these visits?"

"Because…I…there are other things to discuss."

"Ok, tell me what else you would like to talk about, if not the incident? You told me you still don’t understand"

"I don’t. The signs weren’t there. The last time we spoke…there was so much progress, I don’t know what happened."

"Don’t you though?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes…ok, maybe there was a sign."

"A sign?"

"Maybe two."

"From what you described, I think there were significant signs."

"So, you do think it was my fault?"

"That’s not what I said.”

"It’s what you meant."

"No. It’s not."

"You said, “From what I described, there were significant signs.” Which means you think I should have seen them."

"No, Emile, that’s not what that means."

"Then what do you mean?"

"I meant that there were significant signs showing that there was a problem and it was growing. I’m not saying you chose to ignore it. I’m not saying you should have seen it. I’m saying there were signs."

"Then what should I have done? I mean, it’s my job to notice things like that. I should have seen that something was wrong, that things weren’t right."

"You are human. You can only do so much. You are not responsible for anyone else’s actions."

"Then what the fuck am I here for?"

"To do everything you can!"

"That’s not good enough! Not if things like that are going to happen."

“…Didn’t your professors walk you through what losing someone would be like?"

“Oh my… yeah. They walked me through it.”

“Ok, what did they say?”

“Marcus…”

“What did they say?”

“That…I would want to blame myself but…”

“But?”

“…It’s not my fault. I did everything I could and…that sometimes you just lose people.”

“So, why do you think this is so hard?”

“How is it supposed to be easy?”

“I didn’t say it was easy, but you are holding onto this and it’s been almost a year.”

“I’m sorry, when did we start putting caps on grieving?”

“You are twisting my words.”

“I’m not twisting your words, you said that I was holding onto it for a year and made it sound like I was supposed to be done.”

“But that isn’t what I meant!”

“Ok, well…how long did it take you to get over losing that little girl? You did everything by the book. It was a legitimate incident. Last I heard it was still eating you up inside. So, tell me. How long are we allowed to cry for the lost ones? How many tears are enough tears.”

“Emile, you can’t save everyone."

"I know! I know…"

“Are you taking your meds?”

“Way to change the subject.”

“Well, I felt like it was safer than trying to reassure you that nothing was your fault. You looked like you wanted to throw something at me.”

“I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“I know. So…are you taking them?”

“…”

“I will take that as a no.”

“I hate how they make me feel.”

“You need time to-“

“I need time…”

“Don’t be like that.”

“I’m not being like anything.”

“The meds are supposed to help you until you feel normal again.”

“The fuck is normal? They don’t do that, they just…make me feel numb.”

“It’s normal to feel cut off from your emotions while on them because it is balancing things out. Instead of having all the emotions all over the place, they balance them out.”

“That’s not even how they work.”

“But you know what I mean.”

“It doesn’t matter because I am not taking them.”

“Emile, you won’t get better if you keep avoiding treatment.”

“I know, I’m not trying to do that but I just…hate how they mess with my head. I’ll try a different one, I swear.”

"You have to stop blaming yourself."

"Is that why you are here?"

"No. I’m here because you are not taking care of yourself."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you’re not."

"How am I not taking care of myself. I’m eating."

"Once a day."

"(scoffs) I’m still sleeping."

"Sure, tossing and turning and getting up at three in the morning because it is, and I quote, “Just not worth it anymore” is sleeping."

"That’s…"

"What? Not true?"

"Fine."

"If I’m wrong, tell me."

"One thing, I’m not doing one thing."

"It’s two, and you are also not showering regularly."

"Yes, I am."

"When was the last time you washed your hair?"

"I don't see how that's relevant."

"Because it indicates you’re not showering."

"No, it doesn’t. I only wash my hair once a week, doing it more often dries out my hair."

"Ok, fine. You aren’t washing your face-"

"I’m washing-"

"You were wearing that shirt the other day."

"Ok…"

"Your pants have a salsa stain on them and you could argue that you just picked up a pair of pants and didn’t realize they were dirty or something, but I watched you. I watched you eat a taco on Monday and make that salsa stain."

"….Those are…three things that I am not paying as close attention to."

"You’re not going to the gym. You’re not reading your books. I’ve heard how you inhale books, several in one week, and you haven’t spoken of a new one in over a month. You aren’t even watching new shows. It is the same three over and over. You aren’t speaking to your mom."

"Ok."

"You’re not speaking to your sister."

"Okay"

"When was the last time you even went out for a walk?"

"Alright! I get it. Maybe…I’m not doing a very good job at taking care of myself, as of late."

"This has been going on for a year."

"No..."

"It has, do you even remember when it started?"

"This isn’t helping."

"Ignoring that there is a problem, isn’t helping. Not me, not you. I can’t help you move past this if you won’t even acknowledge that there is a problem. You are neglecting your self-care. You are crying more often, and you lack any kind of motivation to get anything done. Even something as simple as washing the dishes and cleaning the house."

“Things… Things have gotten a little dark, I will admit-”

“Very dark.”

“Fine! You want me to say it, I don’t want to do this anymore!”

“And why not?”

“Because…. Because…”

“Emile”

“Because I’m failing.”

“The incident wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but I still feel responsible.”

“You aren’t.”

“Then, why does it feel like this? Why does everything feel so dark.. like I can’t breathe, like I’m drowning. When I close my eyes, I hear the sharp crack from a gun firing echoing all around me. All I see is a blood drenched room. It’s on my hands, my clothes. I can feel it, the last few heartbeats vibrating through my hands as…”

“It’s ok.”

“It’s not, it never should have happened.”

“We can’t control other people’s actions and we can’t stop fate. It was meant to go down that way.”

“Why?”

“Because, in life, some endings are just…violent and abrupt. There is no real reason. There are contributing factors, sure, but we will never know the real reason.”

“Do you think it hurt?”

“The gunshot?”

“No, doing it. Going through with it?”

“No. In that moment, there was an end to the pain and that was the point. I’m sorry it is causing so much pain for you, it still isn’t your fault.”

“I should have come over, when you called.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“Still…”

“Your assistant is coming.”

“Dr. Chen, your first patient has arrived. Are you with someone?”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah, see you… Marcus?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you happier, now? That you’re gone, I mean.”

“Well…life doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“That doesn’t comfort me.”

“No, it never does.”