[03] Duane's Depressed by Larry McMurtry

Author:Larry McMurtry
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: rt, _NB_Fixed, mblsm, ephemeral, Westerns, Fiction, Literary
ISBN: 0671025570
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2010-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

8

THE MINUTE DUANE TURNED INTO DR. CARMICHAEL’S STREET he began to feel better. Just the sight of her simple, well-designed house, with its nicely kept lawn and orderly flower beds, made him feel more at rest inside. The house and the yard suggested order and peace of a sort that could be achieved if one paid close attention to the harmonies of life.

There was no one in the waiting room when he arrived—he had come twenty minutes early, hoping he could finish the article about bats. He had almost finished it when the young receptionist, Natalie, appeared, smiled, and ushered him into Dr. Carmichael’s office.

This time the doctor didn’t shake hands when he came in, though she did smile.

“Hello,” she said, indicating that he was to take a seat in the same comfortable chair.

Duane was determined to make a quick start this time, and to keep in mind the fact that the clock was ticking.

“I guess I’ve been needing this more than I realized,” he said. “I spent the whole weekend doing nothing—just waiting for it to be time to come for my appointment.”

He stopped and looked at the doctor.

“Do you think that means I’m real depressed?” he asked.

Dr. Carmichael regarded him solemnly, with her quiet, grave expression, before she answered.

“It’s often a relief to have someone who really listens to what you have to say,” she said finally. “That’s one reason why there are psychiatrists. I don’t know yet how depressed you are, or whether you’re depressed at all, but if you feel the need to see me strongly enough to put your life on hold, then I imagine we need to meet more than once a week, if you can manage it.”

“Oh, I can manage it,” Duane said. “Right now I don’t have anything else to manage.”

“Then probably we should try four times a week, until we learn a little bit more about how you’re feeling,” the doctor said.

“Fine with me—or five times a week, if that’s not too many,” Duane said, immediately.

“It is too many,” the doctor said firmly. “This process can be tiring at first. Let’s stick to four.”

Duane nodded. He felt acutely conscious that his shirt wasn’t really clean—he wondered if the doctor noticed that he was wearing the same clothes he had worn on the first visit.

“I take it you didn’t walk in the eighteen miles this morning?” Dr. Carmichael said.

“Nope, I stayed in a motel,” Duane said.

“Round trip to my office four times a week is about one hundred and forty-four miles, if I’m figuring right,” the doctor said. “I like to walk myself but I doubt I could manage that.”

“I don’t need to go home much,” Duane said.

Dr. Carmichael looked at him silently for what seemed a long time. She wasn’t tense or threatening—in fact seemed quite relaxed. She kept a notepad in her lap but so far he had not seen her write on it.

“Tell me about the walking,” she said. “I’d like to know how it started and any thoughts you might have about it.

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