Enough

I listened to the pen scratching paper, writing words I would never read. I focused instead on tapping my fingers rhythmically against the fabric of the couch. I’ve never been a patient person, and this tiny room’s stagnant air reeked of Dr. Paterson’s aftershave, which made me even less tolerant of the moments passing in silence. I stared at the little black book in his hands, surprised that the weeks of notes hadn’t filled the book yet. The notebook itself was unassuming- with a hardcover, rounded edges, and ivory pages- but its contents determined my entire future.

“Are we done here? You said this would be my last session.” I asked, unable to stay silent.

He tilted his head back to look down his narrow nose at me. I was pretty sure his nose hair was as long as the hair on his head, but I had never measured either. The prominent scar near his left eye shone in the yellowing fluorescent light at this angle. It was difficult for me to imagine him doing anything daring enough to get injured. I had only ever seen him sitting in that creaky chair-as if he was a permanent fixture in this room- and I couldn’t visualize him anywhere else.

“Yes, Alexander. I think you have told me enough,” he finally replied.

“So tell me, do I get to leave?” I replied, the hope in my chest leaking into my words.

“You stole a car and got involved in a high-speed chase. You nearly killed two pedestrians and caused tens of thousands of dollars in damages. When you were brought in, you were barely coherent. You were going through a complete breakdown-”

“I know,” I cut him off, “I know what I did.” I tried to block out the frenzy of memories about that night, but a few refused to leave. I could still feel the adrenaline and the excitement.

“Even if I sign off on your discharge, you still owe a significant amount of money. One of the pedestrians broke his arm when he jumped out of the way of your speeding car and was out of work for two months.” I sighed, waiting for him to answer my question but he continued without pause, “You have to pay twenty thousand dollars to put this behind you.”

My eyes widened, “I thought it would be more,” I stated.

Dr. Paterson released a small chuckle, “You have spent three months in this facility as ordered by the court. You have taken your medications and have cooperated with me. Most teenagers resist help at first, but you embraced it. You are a good person who happens to have a mental illness. Twenty thousand dollars is a lot of money for a teenager to owe and the combination of that debt, your mental illness, and your unstable home life concerns me.”

I nodded while the hope inside me died. My heartbeat quickened, urging me to argue, telling me to fight.

“Sometimes, young people just need a little help to stay on the right track,” he said.

I stood up, moving to distract myself from the anger and disappointment. I was going to be here forever. They probably admitted me permanently and didn't have to tell me because I’m a minor. I paced in front of the couch while Dr. Paterson watched, gauging my reaction and seeing if I would use the emotion management techniques he taught me. I inhaled- counting to five in my head- and pushed away the thought of turning eighteen locked in this psychiatric hospital.

“Okay,” I finally responded once I was calm, “So what do I need to get out of here?”

Dr. Paterson smiled widely and closed the notebook. “You already did it. I am so proud of the progress you have made,” he lifted the little black book to show me, “My notes are enough to completely expunge the incident from your record. This book is worth twenty thousand dollars, and your freedom.”

I knelt to the floor, unable to express my excitement any other way. I laughed for the first time in months, feeling happiness and relief through my entire body.

“Thank you,” was the only thing I could say, but it didn't feel like enough.