Читать книгу The Blind - A.F. Brady - Страница 32

Although we haven’t made progress with his file, it seems that Richard is getting more comfortable with me. He may even be developing a foundation of trust. He’s speaking now, not about anything relevant to his mental health, but he’s saying words out loud. He tells me about books he’s read, or ones he’s heard of that he hasn’t had a chance to pick up yet. I tell him about what’s happened in the music industry, and he’s never happy to hear it. Today is another session with us just warming up to each other.

“You have a cell phone?” he asks me. He hasn’t shaved this morning, and I can see the prickles of a pale beard poking out of his fat pores.

“Yes, I have a personal phone. Why do you ask?” I’ve got my legs crossed and I’ve twisted my chair to face him. We usually sit this way, even if the sessions are uncommunicative. It’s a therapeutic technique. People are uncomfortable with silences, so often if a therapist faces a patient like they’re talking, the patient will feel obligated to fill the silence.

“That was a shock to me. I was away when those things came out. Now even the homeless people have them.”

“You were in prison when cell phones became popular?” This is the first time he has acknowledged his incarceration to me, and I want to draw more information out of him.

“We didn’t even have personal computers. Now everyone has a supercomputer in their pocket.”

“Did you have computers available to you in prison?”

“Well, the phones are even more advanced than the computers now.” He’s not going to engage on this with me.

“It’s true. They really do make communication much easier.” Hint.

“Not just communication—everything. It’s got a camera now, the internet, the emails. You can read books on those things! It used to be you had to have a whole suitcase worth of stuff to have everything that these phones have now. And they’re this big.” He holds out his wide palm to indicate the size of today’s cell phones.

“A miracle of technology.”

Richard shakes his head in wonder and returns his attention to his newspapers. Maybe I can draw him further out of his shell if I tell him that I addressed the issue with Devon and his shit jacket.

“Before you disengage completely, I wanted to let you know that I looked into the issues you were having with Devon.”

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows in anticipation.

“I put in a request with his counselor to take up the issues that you conveyed to me, including the hygiene problem and the disruptive behavior in groups. It has since been addressed with Devon personally, and I hope you will show some patience and tolerance as he adjusts.”

“Well. Thank you.”

“Is that a commitment to give the guy a break?”

“Not exactly.”

“What is it, then?”

“It’s a thank-you. I haven’t said thank-you to anyone in a long time. I appreciate that you followed through.” Richard bows his head to me.

“Maybe since I’ve shown you the respect of following through, you’ll show me the same, and we can work on completing your file.” Once last try for today.

His eyes return to his papers and he brushes his cheek with the back of his hand, as if he’s brushing away my request.

My chest tightens as I draw in another disappointed breath. It’s been almost a month now and all I have are his basics. I’m running out of ways to get through to him.