on staff. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to start today. We have a patient who I think would benefit from your approach.”
She handed me a file. “Edward Jones. Thirty–two years old. He was in a car accident three weeks ago that killed his mother and grandmother. They were the only family he had.”
I opened the file, scanning the notes. “It says here he hasn’t been responsive to therapy.”
Dr. Martinez sighed. “He hasn’t been responsive to anything. He sits in his room, barely eats, barely sleeps. He won’t talk to any of us.” She leaned forward. “I’ve tried everything. We all have. I’m hoping a new face might help.”
I nodded slowly. “I’ll try my best.”
“That’s all I ask.” She stood up. “Let me take you to him.”
We walked to a private room at the end of à quiet hallway. Through the small window in the door, I could see a man sitting in
a chair by the window. He was thin, with dark hair that looked like it hadn’t been combed in days. His shoulders were
slumped, his gaze fixed on something outside that only he could see.
“That’s how he’s been for a week now,” Dr. Martinez said softly. “Just sitting there. Staring.”
My heart squeezed in my chest. I knew that look–the emptiness, the loss. I’d seen it in my own eyes after my adoptive father
died.
“Let me try talking to him,” I said.
Dr. Martinez nodded. “I’ll be at the nurses‘ station if you need me.”
I took a deep breath and knocked gently on the door before entering.
Edward Jones didn’t look up as I came in. I didn’t rush to speak, just closed the door quietly behind me and walked to the
empty chair across from him.
“Mr. Jones,” I said softly. “My name is Dr. Janet Beckett. I’m new here.”
I sat down, placing his file on the small table between us. “I know you probably don’t want to talk. That’s okay. We can just sit
here.”
I looked out the window where he was staring. There wasn’t much to see–just the parking lot and some trees beyond it. But I sat with him, quiet, watching the leaves move in the wind.
After about five minutes of silence, I spoke again. “It’s a nice view. Peaceful.”
To my surprise, he turned his head slightly toward me. His eyes, red–rimmed and tired, met mine for a brief second before
looking away again.
“They all try to make me talk,” he said, his voice rough from disuse. “About how I feel. About what happened.”
I nodded. “People mean well. But sometimes talking doesn’t help.”
He looked at me again, longer this time. “You’re different from the others.”
“I’m new,” I said with a small smile. “Give me time. I might get annoying too.”
The corner of his mouth twitched–not quite a smile, but close.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” I asked. “Just around the building? It might feel good to move a little.”
He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”
As we walked through the hallways, people tried not to stare, but I could feel their surprise. Dr. Martinez, who was talking to a nurse, nearly dropped her clipboard when she saw Edward walking beside me.
I led him to my new office, which was small but had a nice view of the garden. He sat down in the chair across from my desk,
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+25 BONUS
looking slightly more alert than before.
“They say I should talk about it,” he said suddenly. “About the accident. About them.”
I sat down at my desk, keeping my movements slow and calm. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. “Not about the accident. I can’t… I can’t see it again in my head.”
“Then we won’t talk about that,” I said simply. “What would you like to talk about?”
He looked surprised, like he wasn’t expecting that answer. “I don’t know.”
“What about your mother and grandmother? Not the accident–just them. What were they like?”
His eyes filled with tears, but he didn’t look away. “They were everything to me. My father left when I was a baby. It was always just us three.”
As he spoke, his words came faster, like a dam breaking. He told me how his grandmother taught him to cook, how his mother worked two jobs to send him to college. How they were the only ones who believed in him when he started his
business.
