Prompt: He looked back at the trees
By Cindy Elkerton
“Hey doc, how are you today?” This is how Bonnie started every session. I used to tell her that I was not actually a doctor but rather a registered psychotherapist, she would say that she knew that. But despite her assurance that she knew I wasn’t a doctor, the next session would always start with “Hey doc, how are you today?” When I reflect on it now, I think it was important for her to relate to me in that way, as her “doc” one that was responsible for her care and well-being.
She had had what most would think of as an idyllic childhood. Two loving parents, financial stability, good neighbourhood and school, plenty of friends, and close family. She went off to college and did well, studied a field she was genuinely interested in and happy about. Met the love of her life, got married, and lived a good life.
So why had she been coming in to see me every Tuesday afternoon for twenty-six weeks now? I had asked her that many times, trying to get her to focus in on her hopes for these sessions. Trying to get her to name her therapy goals. She couldn’t do it. She always said, I don’t have any goals. Life is good as is. So I let her go on like that; simply coming in and talking about her week. This happened with some clients, they just needed a trusted listener and a safe place to tell their story. She did; tell stories that is — she told story after story about herself, her love, her parents, her friends, her family, her neighbours, her work, everything in her life.
One day she came in and it went as it normally did; “Hey doc, how are you today?” I replied with my typical; “I’m well Bonnie, what’s up this week?”
“Well, I was walking home from work yesterday and I decided to walk through the park. Something so strange happened to me,” she began. I gave her that ‘interesting, tell me more’ look and she went on.
“I thought I saw my dad in the park. So I walked toward him. As I got closer I could see it was him, he was looking up at the highest branches of the red maple in front of him. He must have heard my footsteps because as I approached her looked over at me. We locked eyes and I smiled. I was about to ask him why he was there but before I could speak, he looked back at the tree. It was so strange, it was as if he had not recognized me. I froze for a moment, I didn’t know what to do. Maybe he wasn’t my dad, maybe he was a doppelganger? Or a clone? Or an alien being that had taken over my dad’s body? I was starting to freak out so I decided to confront him. I walked right up to him and touched his shoulder. Excuse me I said. He looked at me again and as if the previous five minutes hadn’t happened at all, he said ‘oh, hi honey, you look pretty, want to go grab a bite to eat?’ Doc, I knew in that moment my life was about to change in ways I could not imagine…”
By Katrin Faridani
The orchard was the pride of the Reingold family; their apples were shipped all over Europe and used for everything from baby food to cider. There was not a single Reingold who had not worked in the family business for decades.
Uncle Willem had been the only one to ever leave, and that was to fight in WWI, however, he had not been fortunate enough to return. It seemed to Greta that this would be the only legitimate way of escaping this prison. She had no idea how to break the news to her parents. Normally being the first in your family to be accepted to a prestigious university would be a cause for celebration, but she suspected that her case would be very different; more of an excommunication.
Mother Gertrude noticed Greta’s silence over supper. “Don’t you like the meal Greta?”
“No mother, it’s not the food. It’s delicious as usual.”
“Then stop looking so glum.” It wasn’t enough that she dreaded the moment, but now all eight of her family members were staring at her.
“I have something exciting to tell you,” she muttered in the most unexcited voice possible.
“Well dear, if it’s so exciting, why do you sound like your apples have frozen on the branch?” said Gustav, her father.
“Well, I’m not sure you’re going to like it,” said Greta in the same resigned voice.
“Well spit it out then. What is it?” barked Gustav. But Mother Gertrude had already begun weeping. “He did it, didn’t he? He ruined your life!”
“No mother! This has nothing—and I mean NOTHING to do with Gerrard.”
“WHAT THEN?” screamed Gustav, clearly losing patience.
“I’ve been accepted to Oxford University. I am going to become a bio-chemist.”
The table went completely silent. Had she actually spoken those words or had something else come out of her mouth? Everyone was frozen, as though the pause button had been pressed. This continued for a good fifteen seconds until Greta could stand it no more. “Isn’t anyone going to say anything?” she said, finally breaking the silence.
Gustav got up from the table leaving his food half finished and walked down the hall to his study. “Mother what’s going on?” said Greta.
“Just wait and see,” said Mother Gertrude with a sly smile on her face.
Gustav returned with an ornate wooden box. So that’s what the big antique key hanging off her father’s belt was for. Greta had never seen him use it and had never gotten a straight answer when she had inquired.
He handed her the key to the box and then the box itself. “We knew this day would come my dear girl. I saw it in your eyes when you were just six and I took you to the science museum. This box is your ticket out,” and with those words Gustav turned and looked back at the trees.