He was late. This was unusual. Lionel was usually never late to an appointment. She began looking to see when her next patients were coming. Lionel’s appointments were longer than the standard thirty minutes and she knew another patient wanted to schedule earlier, but couldn’t. She reached for the phone but, ahh, there he is. Lionel was breathing hard. He was five minutes late.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Nole. I was held up and walking here is harder than being driven.”

The psychologist smiled. “That’s just fine Lionel. It’s just nice to see you again. Would you like to change the time for your future appointments?”

“No. I just got a little lost. I’ll know the way by next time.”

“Alright, please take your seat.”

Mrs. Nole’s therapy office was the size of a conference room. On a back wall, there was a long window. A dark microfiber couch dominated this entire wall. Lionel took off his shoes. She asks all of her patients, unless they must leave them on for their own health, to remove them. The carpet was a purple dyed frieze. Her desk, positioned across from the couch, sat on top of a plastic protector for the carpet. Her qualifications hung on the wall across from the door, perpendicular to the windowed wall. A book shelf with just just one book from being full, was under her diplomas. The opposite wall had various games, decks of cards, and other nik-naks if her patients needed a distraction. It was one of the few ways some patients could even sit through sessions with her.

Closer to her desk was the most comfortable seat. It was a La-Z-Boy chair. Most patients sat in that. Lionel went over to the La-Z-Boy and sat on the floor, his back leaning against it. He brought up his legs and held them in a fetal position. He was the only patient who did this. Mrs. Nole was used to it by now.

She pushed her glasses up. “So you’ve started college. How has that been going?”

“It’s been going. My classes aren’t very challenging, but eighteen credits has been a lot of work. I don’t have much time to myself. How are you?”

“I’ve been fine. My husband has been busy as ever, but we’re keeping in touch.” She stood up from her office chair and moved to sit on the long couch. Lionel opened up more with informality. “So how have you thought about or applied what we discussed last time?”

Lionel shifted on the floor. “Yeah, you were right. There’s no way I can just be invisible. In my Psychology course, we have a bunch of required, graded group projects. I’m going to have to be in close contact with people. Being cordial but concise is making it so people don’t think much of me.”

“Good.” Mrs. Nole smiled back at him. “I’m glad that’s working out for you. So what is it that you want to talk with me about today?”

He tightened up. “Well, it’s mostly working. There are two people so far that are… Insistent.”

“How so?”

“Well, there’s this girl in my psychology class. She invited me to a vocalist showcase kind of thing, and it turns out I’ll be there anyway with a voice instructor. She’s a contralto who was invited to sing with one of the best choirs in England. She’s walked with me a few times before and we get coffee at the same place in the morning now. It feels like I don’t really have a choice. I’ve been wondering when it’ll take effect with her.

“What do you think you could do?”

“I don’t know. I’m just trying to be uninterested. I don’t think she gets to leave me alone or that I will hurt her. And, well, I-I missed singing so much. I hadn’t really looked or gone to do anything because of my condition, and hearing about that festival made me feel good, so I don’t feel right outright rejecting her.”

Mrs. Nole raised an eyebrow. “I know you’ve enjoyed singing in your high school choir, but not to this extent. Did you get to sing over the summer?”

Lionel was loosening up. “No. When she mentioned a festival about the singing groups, it was like she was baiting me with a cookie jar.” He doesn’t describe his feelings well usually. It hit her what he was really getting at, even if he didn’t realize it. Mrs. Nole once brought freshly baked cupcakes into one of their earlier sessions. He couldn’t keep his eyes off them, but was still too shy to ask for one.

“So it isn't’ her, herself that’s making it difficult?”

He shook his head. “No, no. I’m not even remotely interested in her. I’m still just worried about her liking me because I like music and… I like talking about singing”

“Ok, then.” Mrs. Nole made a mental note. . “You said there was a second person?”

“Ya, he’s this asshat who won’t stop bothering me.” Swearing now? Interesting. “I was sitting down to eat dinner between classes last Thursday on the second floor of the mess hall when he just decided to sit across from me. He asked for my name as I was trying to eat and get my work done, I answered, and he went on from there. He wants me to be his friend.”

“So, what do you think of that?” It has been a long while since the ‘f word’ has come up. For most children, friends are a requirement, but Lionel has always been a recluse, not even factoring his condition. If that changed then she wanted to know.

“I don’t want a friend. He’s in some of my classes, so I can use him in case I ever need help, but I want to keep my distance.”

“So you’re in contact?”

“Yes. He basically forced me into giving him my phone number.”

“You’re never forced to do anything, Leo. We talked about this. Why did you give it to him?”

“I… I don’t know.” He was tightening up again.

Mrs. Nole knew to change the topic for now. “You’re eating a healthy amount since the move?” His junior year of high school, Lionel stopped eating lunch for a month so he could avoid any contact with his classmates. It turned into not eating at all after two weeks.

“Yeah. I’m eating.” He was closed again.

“Do you want to keep talking?”

“No, not really.” His eyes drifted across the room. He seemed to focus on the books on the shelf, then the couch, then the window shade. “Can I put the shades down?” They were green shades. Green was his favorite color.

“Yes you may.” The room was enveloped in a calming green light.

“Do you have any new puzzles?”

“I do, would you like to solve it?” It was a wooden star puzzle.

“Thanks.” He took it and laid down on the couch to solve it.

Mrs. Nole opened her notes document. Lionel was highly adjusted considering his condition. Incredible, really. She began typing, highlighting the notes on the two new contacts. The university, in exchange for allowing such a liability as Lionel and his condition, requires her to submit reports on every session since he started. They wanted him as an experiment, but didn’t want the risk of him affecting their student population..

Even with his condition, Lionel hasn’t had any major chronic and diagnosable disorder. He’s not so much an enigma because of his condition, but because his condition is not causing any major psychological distress. With other patients, the most common problem is anxiety or depression. In both cases, how they are dealing with, relating to, and circumventing their thoughts is related to their relationships with other people. Lionel has never had this problem, because of his condition making it so others must avoid a relationship with him. The problems he’s had is seeing the effect of his condition on others. He’s a good kid. He never wanted to see others in pain because of him. The biweekly reports must make the school question whether she is doing her job.

The university should actually be looking into his neurological reports; trying to figure out what caused or how his condition developed should have been a priority. His condition, his aura, has been with him since he was a toddler.

She finished her report and checked the time. Five minutes remaining in the timeslot. “Leo.”

“Yeah?”

“There are only a few more minutes in our session.”

Lionel responded childlike. “But… .I can get it.”

It surprised her he wasn’t finished already. He was good at these, but when he has troubling thoughts on his mind, he takes longer. “Please take your spot.” He placed the puzzle on the desk and sat in the La-Z-Boy.

“Well, it seems like you’re adjusting to college life. The interactions you’re having right now; it’s going to be up to you to decide how to deal with it. I want you to know you can still choose how they go. You can reject them if you want or keep these new people in your life. The school is not going to expel you for the after effects of your condition, so it just depends on how you want to live with it. You seem healthy enough, though. Do you still want your session in two weeks?”

-

“Goodbye Mrs. Nole.” Lionel closed the door. He clenched his fists. His toes were scratching the bottom of his shoes. His stomach tensed and heaved on repeat. He stepped forward going to the exit, but his legs felt weak.

“Oh, Lionel!” The receptionist called out to him. Leo turned his face. “Your nose is bleeding again. The....”

His voice cracked. “I know where the bathroom is,” he blurted out, cross. He sped to the bathroom, keeping his face turned.

He threw the door open. He slammed it shut and locked it. Paper towels. He needed paper towels. He felt dribbles of blood go over his lips. He got two rolls in his hand and wiped his nose. He wiped his face. Not all the dampness was red.

He stuffed his nose with paper towels. It tickled and made him sneeze. The mirror was spotless before. He rushed to the stall. The toilet seat was cold and made him shiver more than he already was. He grasped his knees, trying to stop the shaking. He put the paper towel to his face; it was damp with wetness. The burden of his affliction is one way, and so he cursed his fate and cursed the mother he loved.