Erin Wasurick

The Good Doctor

I watched as she continued to cry in the corner of the room. Her dark brown hair was a stark

contrast against her white scrubs and the white walls around her. Her face wasn’t even distorted

with emotion rather silent tears fell from her deep green eyes and down her cheeks. She showed

no emotion, she looked like she had given up. And I couldn’t blame her. She had trusted me to

save her, to fix her, but I failed. In a few moments my Cecile would be transferred to another

hospital and to another doctor. A place that would put back together the broken girl that sat

before me. A doctor that would do what I simply could not.

Cecile was brought to me two years ago. Her mother had found her in her room yelling at her

mirror. Cecile told me about that day. She told me she had to listen to “Her” otherwise she would

get hurt. I classified Cecile as just another schizophrenic patient and went on with my life as I

had for the past twenty eight years. I was the youngest doctor at the hospital, but I graduated top

of my class and therefore developed a level of confidence that made me cocky and now I see

reckless. Two years did not change me. Cecile changed me.

We would have our weekly sessions and with each one I grew to care more and more about her.

We should have discussed her issues more, but I was selfish and there was this mystery that I

could see in her beautiful green eyes that I needed to uncover. I would ask her everything from

what her favorite music was to the food she hated the most to what was her happiest memory. I

suppose she thought this was all part of the process of her healing, but I knew better. It was

purely a curiosity and a need.

During one of our sessions about six months ago she was talking about “Her” more than she ever

had in the past. She told me her name was Irene. And that Irene was prettier than she was, and

Irene sometimes spoke for her. She told me Irene was strong and not afraid. Everything she

wasn’t. I had Cecile on medications since the day she arrived at the hospital and the fact that she

was still seeing and interacting with Irene was not good at all. I should have caught it earlier.

Hell, I should I have been concerned in that moment even. But for some reason I threw out all

logic, all of the protocol that I had been taught and went over to her held her in my arms,

whispering to her that I would fix her. That I would be the one to save her from Irene. She

hugged me back and we stayed that way for what I felt was only moments but in reality was

hours. She saw me more and more, and we did try harder to talk about Irene but she wasn’t going

anywhere and I couldn’t let my Cecile go.

I eventually realized that I was in way over my head with Cecile. I could not cure her, and

honestly I did not think she could be cured. But I loved her and I did not have the strength to give

her up. I loved the way she would run her small fingers through her hair when she was

embarrassed. I loved the way her laugh would ring through the room. I loved how she loved her

mom. I loved her passion for Shakespeare, which was impressive for a seventeen year old girl.

Most importantly I loved how I felt when I was in her presence. I did not feel like the boy that

did not go out in high school so that he was valedictorian or the jerk that I turned into when I got

accepted into Harvard or the heartless doctor that I had become when I took this job a few years

ago. I felt right. Like I was supposed to be carefree and fun loving and Cecile allowed me to feel

that way.

I was using her. Simply put, I was abominably selfish. Irene’s presence became more and more

frequent, though I never saw that first hand. I could tell when Cecile would have had a long day
with Irene though. She looked tired and worn down. The shine in her eyes that I loved so much

was not visible and instead I saw a fire that seemed to be burning from the inside. I started seeing

Cecile every day which I justified as part of her treatment. I would tell myself that I was just

observing and needed to find out more about Irene and her connection to Cecile. With these extra

meetings I grew to hate Irene as much as Cecile did. The woman was destroying my girl, my

beautiful Cecile. She would make Cecile depressed and not fun to be around. I was losing that

feeling I once had when me and Cecile would talk. Finally a few weeks ago, Cecile was her

normal self and Irene had not bothered her all day. I had put her on new medication so I was

hopeful that it was working. Cecile told me that she felt better than she had in a really long time.

I leaned into her and whispered a reminder to her that I would be the one to fix her and I let my

emotions control me and I let myself kiss her softly. I felt her respond and kiss me back. It was

everything I imagined. Perfect. I let all of my love flow through me and through our kiss. I

wanted her to feel for me everything I felt for her. Our kiss escalated and she became mine that

night. My Cecile.

My darling Cecile. We were inseparable. I neglected my other patients and spent all of the time I

could with her. Talking about nothing, loving her, being with her. It was the happiest time of my

life. Yesterday, it was all shattered. I came to her room like I had every day that week only to

find Cecile sitting in the middle of a pile of broken glass. Her hands bloody from her obvious

attack on her mirror. Her beautiful hair was a mess, her cheek had a long gash, but it was her

eyes that worried me. The fire had finally consumed her and burned my lovely Cecile. The

normally bright green was now a dark, almost black olive color. She looked up at my stunned

face and her face contorted into a sneer.

“It’s the good doctor.” She said, “Come to cure me.” Her voice was different. The usual bell like

tenor was replaced by a deeper more commanding sound. “So what is the treatment plan today?

Medication? Hypnosis? Oh I know! You can have sex with me again.” She exclaimed in a

sarcastic tone that I had never heard come from my sweet Cecile. My mind was reeling and I

started to feel lightheaded. I had hurt Cecile. I had not cured her, but I had made her worse. I

made her resent me and my love for her.

“Cecile. I don’t even... I’m so-“ I began. “Sorry?” she cut me off. “You are sorry huh? You

didn’t seem sorry last night or the night before. Fuck, you didn’t seem sorry months ago when

little Cecile came crying to you about me. She hates me, but let me tell you. She hates you

more.”

I know the confusion was evident on my face. It took me a minute to process the words I had just

heard. “Irene?” I guessed.

“Finally he figured something out. Top of your class and everything. We are so lucky to have

you as our doctor.” Her sarcasm dripped from each word that she spoke. I finally let go of the

doctor façade that I had been trying to force upon myself and Cecile and embraced the man that

was deeply in love with the sad girl hidden behind the angry woman in front of me. “Is Cecile

coming back?” I asked in a strangled whisper. The thought of my beautiful innocent Cecile never

coming back created a lump in my throat and tears threatened to spill from my eyes. Irene rolled

her eyes. “Maybe. But why would I tell you anyway?” her face contorted from amusement to

anger. “Why would I let Cecile continue to be hurt by you? She has been hurt enough in the past

and no matter how much I tried to protect her people still managed to find a way to get around

me and to her. She has been through enough!”

The tears won the battle and slipped down my cheeks. “I didn’t know.” I whispered to Irene.

“Of course you didn’t know. You never cared. You say you love her but that is all bullshit. And

you know it. If you loved her you would’ve fixed her. You wouldn’t have hurt her.” Irene spat

the words at me. And I had no response because I knew she was right. She scoffed at me and told

me snidely to get out. I looked at her and momentarily I saw the bright green of my dear Cecile.

“Get out.” Cecile’s voice was so soft I barely heard the words and yet they seemed to shout at

me. I hung my head and left her room.

I told my boss that she had to be transferred and that it needed to be done immediately. That she

“relapsed”. I lied through my teeth. She couldn’t relapse if she was never better in the first place.

I continued to watch her sit in the white room while we waited for her transportation. She looked

up finally and though I knew she couldn’t see me through the one-way window she looked

straight at me. Her tears stopped and the dark olive green fire had returned. Irene held my gaze

until two nurses entered the room and escorted her out. I didn’t notice that when her tears

stopped mine began. One of the nurses saw me and came up to with a sympathetic look on her

face. She put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You are a good

doctor.” I stared at her and I think I nodded my head infinitesimally. It was impossible to tear my

gaze away as they led the girl that I had broken out the door and out of my life. My Cecile.