Aunt Elaine wanted to have a few words with Noa’s psychiatrist when they went to see her on Monday. She went into the office first and left him to sit and wait outside.

Doctor Laura Maes was the latest in a series of psychiatrists that Noa had seen since he’d moved in with the Murphys. So far, he liked her. She had moved to Misty Meadows last year which meant that Noa didn’t have to drive into the city for his appointments.

Dr. Maes let him draw and play games and didn’t pressure him. She wasn’t like some psychiatrists who tried everything they could to engage him and get him to talk. It would get too uncomfortable for Noa, to the point where he would refuse to go to his sessions or to participate in any way. Inevitably, the Murphys would end up finding someone else.

Noa barely spoke to anyone, making it difficult for any psychiatrist to work with him. He’d heard many attempts to explain his limited communication. The term ‘selective mutism’ had been thrown around by everyone so far except for Dr. Maes. Rather than using a term and struggling with exercises that went nowhere, she had been adamant with his aunt and uncle that it wasn’t that Noa didn’t feel unable to talk. He was refusing to.

And she was right.

Noa could talk, he just didn’t want to. Talking was always a risk. Saying one thing led to another question or a conclusion being drawn. It was a mistake. It was dangerous. It was better for him to keep his mouth shut and stay in his own bubble, letting the rest of the world pass him by.

While Aunt Elaine spoke with Dr. Maes, Noa was stuck waiting. He had his backpack in his lap, everything he needed inside: his sketchbooks, pencils and pens, MP3 player, headphones, and his Game Boy Advance, along with a few games. He didn’t pull anything out yet. He didn’t want to get interrupted since his wait was probably a short one.

And as expected, his aunt soon came out of the office. She was puffy eyed, a sign that she’d shed a few tears.

“Hey, you can see Dr. Maes now,” his aunt said while he got out of his seat. “I just needed to tell her a couple things. Um… I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

Noa nodded.

Aunt Elaine gave him a wavering smile and leaned forward to give him a peck on the forehead.

“I love you,” she said.

Noa nodded again. His chest was tight, and it was suddenly difficult to swallow. Aunt Elaine’s affection was uncomfortable and unwanted. He turned and headed into the office.

Dr. Maes’ office was cozy. It was professional, the desk and chairs all made of dark wood, a few bookshelves lining the walls, some comfy chairs and a sofa taking up one side of the room. But it wasn’t too stiff or formal. There were some toys and things, nothing too kiddish since Dr. Maes usually saw teenagers, but she did have a few action figures and dolls and even an easel.

Noa was interested in the easel. He didn’t need it since he had his sketchbooks, but he wanted to feel the texture of the paper under his hands or one of his pencils. Depending on the paper, he might even be able to paint. He liked painting.

Turning away from the easel, he picked a seat on the sofa. It was comfy and there was a coffee table there so he could put his things down if he wanted. He sat in the corner, knowing Dr. Maes would join him. And she did.

Doctor Laura Maes was a woman in her thirties with red hair and, as usual, she had a pleasant smile on her face. It wasn’t fake and that mattered to Noa. She was always friendly without being too friendly. She had a talent for putting him at ease.

Dr. Maes usually talked to him and while Noa did his own thing, occasionally nodding or shaking his head in response to her. When she ran out of things to say, they would lapse into a comfortable silence. They had only a dozen sessions so Noa knew it wouldn’t last. It was about time for her to start getting pushy and considering what happened on the weekend, she was most likely about to.

“Hi, Noa,” she said. “How are you doing today?”

Noa shrugged, fiddling with the straps on his backpack. He wanted to pull out a sketchbook but he hesitated.

He was sure that Aunt Elaine told Dr. Maes about what happened on Saturday, of his breakdown at the graveyard. He expected to have to address it somehow, even if he had to totally shut down.

He didn’t want to talk about it or even think about it. If he did, he might see Amber again. Having that happen in front of his psychiatrist would be a nightmare.

“That’s good,” Dr. Maes said. “I’ve been having a good day so far myself.”

Noa continued to fiddle with his bag while Dr. Maes gave him an opening to speak up. He didn’t say anything so she continued.

“So,” she said, “your aunt told me some interesting things happened on Saturday. Did you want to talk about it?”

Noa shook his head.

He was right after all. It wasn’t a surprise. Aunt Elaine had probably told Dr. Maes everything. He didn’t want to talk about his freak out at all. Not even a little. His lips were sealed.

“Are you sure?” Dr. Maes said. “Even after something really exciting happened?”

Exciting?

Noa looked at her with a small frown, tilting his head. He didn’t remember anything exciting happening. It was all bad, wasn’t it? Saturday was a bad day.

Dr. Maes read his confused expression and elaborated, “You don’t remember? You talked to your friends.”

Oh.

Oh!

Noa could understand why everyone else might think that was exciting but it wasn’t anything special to him. He needed to speak. He had to ask about Rion. He had to ask about the bracelet. The rest didn’t matter. He was forced to talk and ended up regretting it.

Noa gave a small shrug, going back to fiddling with his bag again, opening and closing the clasp on the front.

“I heard that you talked to one of your old friends, Danny Fox, along with Travis and Jesse,” Dr. Maes said. “Your aunt said Danny just moved back to town. Isn’t that good news?”

Noa shrugged again. He didn’t care. Danny had been gone so long that it didn’t matter. Danny had always been more Sarina’s friend anyway, and Noa thought Sarina was annoying. She wasn’t so bad now that they were older, but she used to try and butt in with him and Rion all the time. She got in the way, she was nosy, and she always asked him to draw her stuff.

Danny wasn’t so bad. He’d always been nice. Rion liked him. But after Amber died, Danny left them. He abandoned them. Noa couldn’t bring himself to be excited that he finally came back.

“No? You don’t care?” Dr. Maes said, studying him. “Then what about the conversation you had? I heard that you talked about your old best friend, Rion.”

Noa’s mouth betrayed him immediately.

“My best friend,” he corrected her.

“Yes?” Dr. Maes said.

He realized he would have to explain and he hated it. Noa pressed his lips together in a thin, unhappy line.

“He’s not my old best friend. Rion is my best friend,” Noa said. “That hasn’t changed.”

If Dr. Maes was excited to hear him talking, she didn’t show it. She watched and listened to him like this was a completely normal session.

“Why do you say that?” Dr. Maes asked. “Your aunt tells me that you haven’t seen each other in years.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Noa said, sure of himself. “We’re best friends. We’ll always be best friends.”

Noa knew it was true because he could trust Rion completely. Rion would do anything for him, and Noa would do anything for Rion. They’d been through things that no one else would ever understand. Their relationship was special.

“Do you want to spend time with him?” Dr. Maes asked.

Noa hesitated. The answer was easy. Of course Noa wanted to spend time with Rion. But after all these years, he didn’t know how Rion felt. Maybe he was happier with how things were. Maybe things were going well for him. He should be graduating when the school year was over. Noa hoped that he was doing okay. He wanted him to be happy.

Noa missed Rion. He missed him more than anyone. He missed him more than Amber.

“I don’t want to talk,” Noa said, trying to dodge the question and make his feelings clear.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Dr. Maes said. “We’re talking now, aren’t we? And it was because you talked to Danny about Rion. I want to help you and I can do more if you talk to me. You’re not happy with the way things are, are you?”

No, he wasn’t happy. His grip on his bag tightened.

Noa didn’t know how to fix anything. Maybe nothing could ever be fixed.

He was a burden.

He was in the way and messed everything up for everyone.

Noa had stopped going to school after Amber died and the Murphys had done their best to homeschool him. He saw how it affected his aunt, uncle, and cousin. He hated the way things were and he didn’t think any amount of therapy could make things better for anyone.

Noa hated himself.

He could barely tolerate himself on his best days. It was easy to see every one of his mistakes, every ugly part of himself. There was something wrong with him. He was sick. He was disgusting. And worst of all, he seemed to be the only one who could see it.

Everyone was so nice to him; everyone was so supportive. And it was awful.

“If you don’t talk to anyone, no one knows what’s going on with you,” Dr. Maes said. “If you talk to me or even just one person that you really trust, that can make a big difference.”

Noa had heard this kind of thing before from other psychiatrists. He didn’t like it. It meant they were prying, trying to figure him out. He didn’t want that.

“Talking is dangerous,” Noa said.

“Why do you think that?” Dr. Maes asked.

“Because it’s true,” Noa said.

“What do you think would happen if you started talking to people?” Dr. Maes said. “What’s the worst thing you can imagine?”

Noa shook his head. He didn’t want to go there. He didn’t want to think about it. No.

“You know that anything we talk about stays between us, right?” Dr. Maes said. “I won’t tell your aunt or your uncle or anyone. Whatever you say to me is our secret.”

Noa gave her a stiff nod. He knew that. He just didn’t want to get comfortable talking to anyone. It might make him open up to other people and then there would be trouble. He couldn’t do it.

Talking was a mistake. It was bad.

“Okay, I just want to make sure that’s clear,” Dr. Maes said. “You can tell me anything. It’s safe.”

It wasn’t but Noa knew better than to say that.

He didn’t want to get stuck in this loop. He had to do something to break out of this, to get away.

People liked it when he talked, especially psychiatrists. Dr. Maes was trying to get him to talk right now. And as dangerous as talking was, it still had its uses and advantages. Especially as a distraction.

“I’m scared of a lot of different things,” Noa said.

He waited, expecting Dr. Maes to jump in with a different question. Something like ‘What are you scared of?’ But she didn’t. She sat, still attentive but quiet. Maybe he needed to say more?

“I’m scared of lightning. And fire. And water,” he added.

Dr. Maes still didn’t say anything when he paused. Why wasn’t she talking? Wasn’t that her job? Shouldn’t she be trying to get him to elaborate? He was telling her things. He was ‘opening up’ about something really uncomfortable. She should be latching onto this, right?

He didn’t really want to talk about his fears or why things scared him. He wondered if he should try to say something else. What could he talk about? Was it too soon to change the subject again?

Should he try shocking her? It would be easy to tell her something horrible. But she was a psychiatrist. Maybe she could tell the difference between someone trying to shock her and someone wanting to talk something through. But then…did she see through him right now?

He needed to give her something concrete, something relevant. He’d cornered himself already and he felt stupid, trapping himself with his own words when he knew better. He should shut up.

“...I’m scared of drowning,” Noa said, swallowing hard.

He was bound to regret this, but it was the only way he could think to avoid inevitably talking about Amber. His fears were real. They were tied to real experiences. It was the sort of thing a psychiatrist should want to hear about.

Noa had talked about it in therapy before. It wasn’t anything new. All he had to do was say the same things over again.

But the words burned. They were poison.

“You know what happened, right?” Noa asked, wondering if he needed to elaborate. “With my parents?”

“Is this something you’re ready to talk about with me, Noa?” Dr. Maes asked. “It’s an intense subject and you don’t look comfortable.”

She was still attentive and she wasn’t calling him out, but Noa felt like she was onto him. Or was he feeling guilty about trying to divert her attention? He didn’t know.

“I’m supposed to talk, right?” Noa said. “That’s why I’m here. I’m messed up, aren’t I? And everyone thinks it’s because of Amber. But shouldn’t we talk about my parents? Because that was…that was really…that was bad, and…and no one ever talks about it anymore.”

He felt disgusting. Noa had no idea what he was doing. He was talking about the second worst experience of his life as an excuse to avoid the worst.

He shouldn’t be talking at all. What was he thinking? Every time he opened his mouth, he sounded like an idiot. Because he was an idiot.

Noa couldn’t get anything right.

“No one talks about your parents?” Dr. Maes asked. “Never?”

Noa opened his mouth, closed it, tried to think of what he wanted to say so that he didn’t spew out words like he just did.

“People talk,” he admitted. “Behind my back. In whispers.”

Even the Murphys did it. They talked about it like it was a tragedy, like it was some horrible past event. They never talked about it for long, just touched on it when it was relevant and then dropped it.

People around town weren’t so nice. Gossip ranged from Noa’s father being Japanese as the root cause, to rumours that Noa’s dad was an alcoholic or a drug addict. They made him out to be an obvious psycho, the kind of evil you could spot from a mile away.

And for every word said against Noa’s father, they had something kind to say about Noa’s mother. They talked about how sad her death was, how awful it was that she was killed, and ‘poor Noa’.

But it wasn’t like his mother was some great person or a tragic victim. No one knew what she was really like. The only person who knew her like Noa did was his Aunt Elaine. And she didn’t talk about her sister often, if at all.

Noa was young when he still lived with his parents, but he couldn’t remember seeing his father drunk or doing drugs. That was a lie. Their house had been clean, proper, and orderly. His father had always been put together, professional. He’d been a sharp businessman. His mother had been pretty, fashionable, and was always in control. They were a picture-perfect family. There was nothing obvious about the turmoil that hid behind closed doors.

He’d been told that his fuzzy memory had to do with repressed memories and trauma. Over and over and over again, that’s what they told him.

What Noa did remember were his parents’ fights, how they would get physical, hit each other, break things, and scream. He remembered his punishments and how he would fail again and again and again at doing anything right.

But it was a long time ago. At this point, all his childhood memories were fuzzy. It was an uncomfortable blur of painful memories.

“Would you rather people to talk to you personally about your parents?” Dr. Maes asked, “as opposed to whispering behind your back?”

“Maybe,” he said.

“Is there anything you would want to say to them about your parents?” Dr. Maes said.

Noa hesitated. There were things he wanted to say. He had fantasies about telling people off, making them understand that they didn’t know what they were talking about. But to confront people about it in real life? No. There was no point.

Noa shook his head.

“Are you sure?” Dr. Maes asked. “There’s nothing you would want to say? This seems like something that bothers you.”

Noa shrugged. He was already wishing he’d never opened his mouth. He hated this. He wanted to leave.

“I’m a little curious… What brought this on?” Dr. Maes said. “You’re very quiet, Noa. It’s surprising that you would want to talk about your parents.”

“You said I could tell you anything,” Noa replied.

“I did. And I meant it,” she said. “I’m really happy that you’re opening up to me. We can talk about your parents as much as you want.”

Noa didn’t want to talk about them, but he wanted to talk about Amber even less. He tried to select his next words carefully. He couldn’t think of any way to respond without saying something he would regret.

Noa felt cornered.

“I don’t like talking because I always say the wrong thing. And I hate it,” he finally admitted.

“I think you’re doing really good,” Dr. Maes said. “What makes you think you say the wrong things?”

“I just do,” Noa said.

He hugged his bag to himself, curling inwards. He wanted this to be over. He felt sick. He couldn’t do it anymore.

“I think you’re doing really great,” Dr. Maes said. “You’ve done a whole bunch of talking and that’s a big deal. You haven’t said anything stupid so far.”

Noa shook his head. She was wrong. He was getting confused and making things worse. He should stop and shut down and not say anything else.

“Okay…” Dr. Maes said. “Well, how about this. Your aunt also said you had a panic attack on Saturday. Did you want to talk about that?”

Noa shook his head even more adamantly.

“What if we don’t talk about your panic attack, but instead we talk about some strategies to deal with them. I understand that breathing techniques don’t calm you down…”

Noa blinked. Strategies for panic attacks that weren’t stupid breathing techniques that made him gag?

“Strategies…?” he repeated.

“Yes,” she said, flashing him a smile.

She got up and went to her desk, coming back with some photocopied sheets of paper. She handed them over to Noa and he skimmed them.

“I was hoping that if you were feeling up to it, we could go over those together,” she said. “We can try them out and you can get a bit of practice. How does that sound?”

Good. It sounded good. This was something safe, something helpful. Noa studied the pages, turning them over in his hands. There wasn’t a lot to go over but there wasn’t a single breathing technique on the list. That was a relief. Nothing seemed hard to do either.

“Okay,” Noa said, much more comfortable at the idea of doing something that would help him. “Thank you.”