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Syzygy
ˈsɪzɪdʒi/
noun
1.
An alignment of celestial bodies.
I wasn’t sure, I never was but I wasn’t sure how exactly I ended up here. I always believed everything happened for a reason but ever since the incident it seemed like I was losing not only that belief but all my other ones too.
“Tyler, how are you today?”
How am I, that’s a question even I don’t know how to answer. I glance up at you from where my gaze was fixed to the tiled floor and for a split second I see a hint of jadedness in your eyes, of course you’re tired, we all are.
“The same.” I finally conjure a few words to spill out, “I feel the same.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“You’re the doctor.” I repress the urge to apologise, you know I didn’t mean to come off as snarky. You clear your throat and flip a page of your clipboard, the sound of my foot idly tapping on the floor being the only source of audio in the room. I watch as your eyes scan down the page, as if you’re trying to remember what it is that I’m cursed with. Yes, cursed with. I refuse to believe that this illness is anything other than a curse.
“We upped your dosage four weeks ago, no change at all?” Your expression holds just the slightest bit of hopefulness, to which I feel guilt for the answer to your question.
“No, they aren’t working.” I rub my eye with the heel of my hand and for a second the bird clock on the wall catches my attention, the repetitious chirp signaling that another hour has passed by.
“What about Sylvia? Has she not helped you progress?”
Sylvia, the blonde haired therapist who doesn’t even attempt to seem interested in what I tell her. Her eyes hold nothing, and her attention span even less.
“No, she isn’t very helpful.” I swallow down the dryness in my throat, just the thought of her makes my skin itch. You nod stiffly, returning your gaze back to the clipboard only for you to return it to me a second later.
“Well I think you need someone more professional.” You gesture with your hand, “Not that Sylvia isn’t professional, but-”
“You mean I need severe help.” I interrupt, “I know, I’m crazy.”
You sigh and run a hand through your raven hair, and adjust your thick rimmed glasses before leaning forward. “I didn’t mean it like that, Tyler. You just obviously aren’t getting anywhere with Sylvia.” You lean back and grab a card from the little holder placed on your desk, you hand it to me with a reassuring smile and I take it with a cold expression.
“Dun.” I read the name scrawled across the card, “Joshua Dun.”
“He’s quite a man.” You affirm proudly, as if you taught him yourself. “One of the best, I assure you he can give you the help you need.”
I stare at the card for a moment, It’s not like I have many options. Sylvia is...she’s the type of person to wait for her turn to speak, instead of actually choosing to listen to what you’re saying. I look up at you and inhale sharply, nodding before standing up. You stand up along with me and extend your hand, giving another serpent-like smile as I take it with reluctance. As I prepare to leave you latch onto my arm and state one last thing:
“I hope you get the help you need, Tyler. Good luck.”