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As the heavy oak door of the psychiatrist's office swung shut behind him, Erik felt trapped.
He stood for a moment, his heart racing, scrutinizing the room: the impeccably organized bookshelf filled with thick, hardcover books; the plush armchair facing the desk; and the faint hum of the air conditioner that ticked like a clock.
The psychiatrist sat comfortably behind the wide mahogany desk, a middle-aged woman in a gray pantsuit, with silver-streaked hair and glasses perched low on her nose.
In his mind, he replayed the moment he had been urged to seek help, Lyle's brown eyes glistening with tears as he held Erik's face in his hands.
“Erik, please. You're hardly even talking to me. Look, sooner or later, our lawyers will tell us to talk to a shrink. Please, Erik, even if you don’t talk, at least just go see her.”
Erik sank into the chair and rested his cuffed hands in his lap.
“Hello, Erik,” the psychiatrist said, her voice calm and even. “My name is Dr. Biggers. I’m glad you could make it today. How are you feeling?” The question hung in the air, open-ended and probing. “I’m fine," Erik mumbled.
“Are you?” Dr. Biggers asked, tilting her head slightly, her eyes narrowing with interest. “Fine is a four-letter word we often use to describe our condition, but it doesn’t really tell us much. Would you like to explore what 'fine' means for you?”
Erik shifted uncomfortably, every muscle in his body tensed. The room was bathed in muted greens and browns, designed to soothe, but which only heightened his anxiety.
“I don’t want to talk about my feelings,” Erik said, raising his voice. He could feel heat creeping over his face. “I’m here because sooner or later, I'll have to come. It's inevitable.”
Dr. Biggers blinked, unfazed. “People can be well-meaning, but not always know what’s best for us, don’t you think? Sometimes our discomfort can lead us to unexpected places.”
The psychiatrist’s calm demeanor grated on Erik’s nerves. He scanned the room again, his eyes landing on a framed certificate hanging on the wall, the script barely decipherable.
How many patients had sat in this very chair and shared their secrets? His mind raced, his thoughts spiraling into intrusive questions. What if Dr. Biggers talked about him with her colleagues?
“I’m sorry, it's just...I don’t trust you,” Erik blurted out. “You’re a perfect stranger to me. How can I know that you won't talk about me after I leave?”
Dr. Biggers took a deep breath. “Trust can be difficult, especially when opening up about our inner lives. I’m not here to judge you, Erik, or to share your thoughts with anyone else. Everything you say is completely confidential. My role is to create a safe space for you to express yourself and to work through your issues.”
“A safe space?” Erik scoffed. “You have no idea what I’ve been through, or what I've done! You’re just going to sit there and listen while I spill my guts, right?”
The psychiatrist nodded slowly, allowing the weight of Erik’s words to settle. “It can feel that way, yes. But it’s also about your choice. You control what you want to discuss, if you even want to discuss anything at all.”
Erik's chest tightened. “Why should I tell you anything? What do you get out of it?”
“I get to help you,” Dr. Biggers said simply. “But ultimately, this isn’t about me. If you’re not comfortable, I’m happy to support you, whatever you decide.”
At that moment, something shifted within Erik. Maybe it was the sincerity in Dr. Biggers’ voice, or the challenge of confronting his own wall of skepticism.
He felt the urge to flee, but he also felt a flicker of curiosity; of possibly turning the lens inward, if only just a little.
“You don’t give up easily, do you? Or maybe you just don't know who I am, and what I've done.” Erik said sullenly.
“Not when someone is willing to share a piece of themselves,” Dr. Biggers replied, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes.
“As for who you are, I only know you by name: Erik Galen Menendez. I would like to get to know you better, if you will let me. As for what you've done, that makes no difference to me."
Erik paused, his mind racing. Maybe there was something to this after all. Maybe, just for a moment, he could sit in this chair, in this room, with all the uncertainties he harbored, all the anger and guilt and self-loathing.
With a reluctant breath, he unclenched his fists and leaned forward slightly. “Okay, then. Let’s start with ‘fine’..."
For the first time, Erik felt a small crack in the wall he had built, letting in a hint of light.