at Ms. Edwards with a perplexed expression, tilting her head, and said “Ms. Edwards, there have been many times it rained outside, and you have never called me in the manner which you did today. Tell me what is really going on. Are you hurt? Is there someone bothering you? How has it been going with you and your new roommate; is everything working out okay?” questioned Dr. Gibson.

         “Everything is fine with the roommate; it’s not that. The truth is, the reason I called you, (sigh) I miss my family. Specifically, my husband and my two daughters,” said Ms. Edwards, as she sighs sadly. “Your husband and two daughters?” questioned Dr. Gibson. “Ms. Edwards you have never told me about this before. When were you married, and where are they now? According to the records I received from the hospital, you came in as a Jane Doe, and the only person who claimed you after two days of being there was your Aunt Linda, who passed away just two months ago.”

         Ms. Edwards looked in confusion, not knowing what to say about what she was hearing. “What are you talking about, Dr. Gibson? I’ve always told you about my family.” Dr. Gibson take off her glasses to wipe them with her blouse, and as she slowly put them back on, she said, “Now, Ms. Edwards, you have been seeing me for ten months, just about. And in those ten months, we have progressed very well. After you awakened from your coma following the accident, you suffered from depression and PTSD; you even relayed to me your past trauma in the years of your youth. And let us not forget the setback with your mobility, leading to needing intense physical therapy. And even with that, you have lost extraordinarily little memory, from what I’ve observed.”

         Dr. Gibson leaned forward in her chair toward Ms. Edwards to gain her undivided attention and continued, “You have improved exceptionally well; given everything you have been through. Now, I understand the anniversary of the accident is next week. I am aware that this would bother you very much, so I am prepared for you to mention this incident in the coming sessions; if not this week; definitely; the next. However, Ms. Edwards in all the sessions we have had together, there was never a mention of a husband and children. Why are you now mentioning this to me? Did you not trust me, knowing this about you?”

         Ms. Edwards looked in confusion, not knowing what to say about what she was hearing. “What are you talking about, Dr. Gibson? I’ve always told you about my family.” Dr. Gibson take off her glasses to wipe them with her blouse, and as she slowly put them back on, she said, “Now, Ms. Edwards, you have been seeing me for ten months, just about. And in those ten months, we have progressed very well. After you awakened from your coma following the accident, you suffered from depression and PTSD; you even relayed to me your past trauma in the years of your youth. And let us not forget the setback with your mobility, leading to needing intense physical therapy. And even with that, you have lost extraordinarily little memory, from what I’ve observed.”

        Dr. Gibson leaned forward in her chair toward Ms. Edwards to gain her undivided attention and continued, “You have improved exceptionally well; given everything you have been through. Now, I understand the anniversary of the accident is next week. I am aware that this would bother you very much, so I am prepared for you to mention this incident in the coming sessions; if not this week; definitely; the next. However, Ms. Edwards in all the sessions we have had together, there was never a mention of a husband and children. Why are you now mentioning this to me? Did you not trust me, knowing this about you?”

        Ms. Edwards waved her hand in disagreement with what she heard and denied not telling Dr. Gibson. Visibly upset, she said, “I have told you everything, I am certain of that. I have a husband, his name is Todd, and my children, Emily, and Anna. I know I have told you this before.”

        Dr. Gibson realized that this session is now leading to an argumentative direction she does not typically want to go with her clients. She quickly apologizes, saying, “I am sorry, Ms. Edwards, sometimes I may miss a few pieces of information from time to time, in my sessions. I can get a bit overwhelmed at times, which is the reason, why I use my notebooks. I know it bothers you much, so I tend not to do much writing during our session. You may have mentioned this before in our past sessions, and I didn’t get to write it down, so as to not bother you.”

       Ms. Edwards, shaking her head, said. “Okay, maybe I should be okay with you writing things down. It’s just that, sometimes, I think you’re drawing a crazy character of me, like in the movies,” Ms. Edwards said jokingly.

       “What do you mean?” said Dr. Gibson

       “Well, in the movies, a therapist would pretend they’re listening to the client, but really, they’re drawing a crazy picture of them. That is mean!” said Ms. Edwards

       “Well, of course, it is. I would never do that. Besides, I am terrible at drawing anyway, so no need to worry about that,” answered Dr. Gibson, as she chuckles. Ms. Edwards felt a little relieved and calm after Dr. Gibson reassured her.

       Then the phone rang. Before she could say anything else, Dr. Gibson excused herself, for it was her husband calling. Ms. Edwards began to get up and stretch as Dr. Gibson went into another room. As Ms. Edwards stretched, she walked towards the window she had stared out from earlier. When she got closer, she noticed a little girl in a white dress and a blue-ribbon belt standing outside on a light-rainy day with no umbrella. The little girl, who could be about eight years old or younger, remained standing on the sidewalk in the front yard of Dr. Gibson’s practice. As the girl stood there, she started to move her lips to Ms. Edwards, but she could not make sense of what the girl was saying. Frightened, Ms. Edwards started to call for Dr. Gibson, “Dr. Gibson, come here.” 

     However, Dr. Gibson is in the other room speaking to her husband, who’s upset that she’s not home - for it is Sunday, and normally there are no sessions done on this day. Ms. Edwards realized, hearing Dr. Gibson, faintly in the other room, that she did not hear her call her name. Ms. Edwards turned around and saw the little girl walking backward into the street. Ms. Edwards started to scream, “No, little girl, please don’t do that. Dr. Gibson, Dr. Gibson, come out here!”

     Dr. Gibson interrupted her call and frantically ran out of the room she was in and said, “What is it, Ms. Edwards what’s wrong?” Ms. Edwards started to scream even louder, “The little girl, she’s out there, and she’s…” Ms. Edwards turned around, and she saw that the girl had gone away, and so did the rain. Confused about this, she said, “No, the girl was out there, and she was going to hurt herself; she backed up into the street, and…and, you must believe me, Doctor, I’m not crazy. Why are you staring at me like that?”