“Do you have any hobbies, Olivia?” she looks up at me.
I can’t help the way my eyes narrow. I wish she’d stop calling me that.
“You don’t like it, do you? When I use your name?”
I give an infinitesimal shake of my head that isn’t really voluntary. The moment I catch myself do it, I scowl and stare down into my lap, at my handsome Caleb.
Caleb.
Don’t. Don’t think about him.
Once again, I am a fragmented person. I am divided between the soft, sentimental, girl who loves Caleb at all costs and the hard, logical, version of me determined to survive – even at the cost of pushing Caleb from my heart.
“Would you prefer Livvie? Your mom says everyone calls you Livvie.”
Tears sting my eyes as I look up toward Dr. Sloan. She is studiously avoiding eye contact, focusing on yet another ‘arm’ of her strange outfit.
I wonder, against my will, if my mother is here. I don’t want to see her, but…why hasn’t she come to see me? Everyone I love betrays me.
Oh, god. Caleb.
Yes, him too. Don’t think about him.
“I spoke with her a great deal yesterday; she wanted to see you.” Dr. Sloan says casually. My heart is skipping every other beat. Panic is rising, but I breathe through it. Barely. “But when I stopped by to ask if it was something you might want….” She frowns and shakes her head angrily. I know she’s thinking about Reed. “I figured I’d wait for you to tell me what you want to do.”
I nod shallowly and feel manipulated when I see her nod, too. She’s getting in my fucking head and I haven’t even said anything.
Caleb says all your emotions are on your face for all to see.
Shut up and stop thinking about him. Be smart for once. Listen to me.
I sigh. Thinking about Caleb hurts, but trying to move beyond my love for him, hurts more. There’s no getting past the pain. There is only a different brand of pain available for my eager consumption.
“Do you want to see your mother?”
I don’t know whether the question is real, or a threat. I carefully abstain from signaling my emotions through my body language or facial expressions. I suppose it works because Dr. Sloan resumes her ridiculous monologue about her hobbies.
“I know what you must be thinking.”
You have no fucking idea.
“That I’m a silly woman with ridiculous hobbies.”
Or maybe you do.
“Though, you’d be surprised to learn, I’m not all free-form knitting and interpretive taxidermy. I have a dark side.”
Hmm…doubtful.
“When I’m really frustrated with things,” she giggles “…I like to get online and change things in Wikipedia!”
This, bitch…is weird.
“I once made up a whole entry based on someone called, the Christmas Amoeba. You see, I’m not much of a baker and I made these holiday cookies for the people at the office. They came out horribly deformed. They tasted fine, mind you, but they were misshapen. Not a round cookie in the bunch.”
I look at her octopus sweater. I’m fairly sure nothing this woman does with her hands is meant for people to see, let alone consume.
“So I left a note next to the cookies. It was a story explaining how a small village near K2…. You know that big mountain, right?” She looks at me to make sure I’m following along.
I lie down on my bed and huff at the ceiling. Where the hell is the nurse with my drugs?
“Anyway, they made a movie about it. Not my cookies,” she cackles, so fucking amused with herself, “…the mountain. Can you imagine if they made a movie about my cookies? So, I made up this story about how this village near K2 celebrates someone called the Christmas Amoeba instead of Santa Claus. He sneaks in undetected – amoebas are microscopic, so it stands to reason someone who’s an amoeba would be very stealthy – on Christmas Eve and leaves presents for everyone. In return, the people of the village leave a variety of oddly shaped cookies for the amoeba to eat. Amoeba’s come in a variety of shapes, so it makes sense.”
She can’t see my face, so I don’t feel like a traitor for smiling at this preposterous woman’s story.
“Well, the people in my office are just sticklers for the truth. You know, everything must be verified, blah, blah, blah. So sure enough, they do a Google search and – BOOM – up pops my entry on Wikipedia about the Christmas Amoeba.”
She dissolves into peals of laughter.
Oh my god, she really is crazy. I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from laughing. She is laughing so hard. It’s infectious, but I resist it. My shoulders are trembling with withheld laughter. I shut my eyes to assist in the effort.
Caleb is there the moment I shut my eyes.