“Mr. Rivers?”
I nodded and stood, my heart pounding. I handed the receptionist the clipboard of papers and followed Dr. Wheaton through the white door into a much smaller room than the reception area.
I sat across from her and talked about my father for the entire hour.
“How has the loss of your father changed you?” she asked, writing in a notepad.
I shifted in my seat, and leaned forward, staring down at the plush velvet carpet beneath my dirty boots. “I feel like a different person.”
“How so?”
I shook my head. “I feel disconnected from life. I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.”
“How are you dealing with your father’s death?”
“I’m here, talking to you.”
Her thin lips parted into a soft smile on her angelic face. She looked like an angel in her long white skirt and brunette hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She had simple features.
She was easy to talk to, I thought, as if we’d known each other for years.
“How are you dealing with everything now?” she asked.