'He hated that, but he had to follow orders, 'We all have to follow orders. Sailor Girl.' he would say."
"Sailor Girl?"
I knew why she used that term for herself Dr. Anderson had it in his notes, but it was for better to have the patient retell it.
"That's what he called me," she said. Her smile was deeper, softer, full of memories.
I know I was staring at her like a schoolboy stares at his first love. Willow. She noticed and looked at me strangely, and I realized it. I think, and I know you will be amazed, I actually blushed, not something I do very often.
"You're not what I expected," she said.
"Oh? Why is that?"
"You're not old. I thought you would be older." "Why?"
"You have your own clinic and everything and my doctor in Palm Beach looks older than you do and he made you sound like you were his mentor."
I laughed,
"Well. I've been lucky. This place practically fell into my lap."
"He told me you go around the country lecturing and that you were brilliant." she said.
"Let's reserve judgment on that." I told her. "First, let's see if I can help you. If I can do that, then well consider it," I said, and she nearly laughed. I saw it in her eyes. Sometimes, you just know quickly you're going to like someone and he or she is going to like you. It's as if the both of you have the correct combination to that lock that keeps our most private selves hidden from most people.
"Tell me about those early years in your life. How did you feel about all this moving around, changing schools, constantly making friends?"
"I didn't mind it. I was better off then."
"Why?" I asked her.
"I didn't have close friends. I didn't have anyone to mourn," she said.
"Mourn? Why do you say that?"
I thought she wasn't going to answer. She looked away and then she turned back to me, her eves narrowing, just the way yours do. Willow, when you get intense about something.
"We had a dog once, a golden retriever called Kasey." she said. "She was hit by a car when she was only four and killed."
"How sad for you."
"Mommy cried and so did I and Daddy was very depressed. He loved that dog. And then Mommy said. 'I'll never have another dog. I'm not going through this again, this terrible loss,' and we never did." she said. "She had less to mourn."
"Did that make you unhappy? I mean, didn't you want another dog?"
"No."
"Why not? Was it because you wanted your mother to be happy?"
"Yes, but it was more than just that."
"Tell me," I said, leaning toward her. I felt like holding her hand in mine,
"We take a risk anytime we give anything or anyone our love," she said. and I thought, what a remarkable observation. She might be a very troubled person, but she was also a very sensitive and perceptive one. I knew it that first day I met her.
"That's true." I said. "But if it's someone or something worth the risk, then we should take it, don't you think?"
She looked away again, and when she looked back at me I saw that her face had grown darker. I could see the light in her eyes diminish as she turned inward on her own troubled thoughts. Sometimes it takes a while to open that curtain and see all that is twisted and troubling inside someone. Willow, and sometimes, as it was with your mother, it comes almost immediately.