Autopsy Of A Mind 68 The Best For Me

"Why are you following me?" I asked. He shrugged and held the door open for me after I had keyed in the pa.s.sword. 

He looked around the apartment and then pulled out his phone. "I'm setting up an appointment with the psychiatrist immediately. I think he will a.s.sign you to a therapist shortly. It shouldn't take more than a day." 

"Doesn't it take weeks to get an appointment?" I was surprised. He looked at me with a strange expression. "What? Did I say something wrong?" He shook his head. 

"I have contacts. It's an emergency, so I can get you a slot." I nodded. I entered the kitchen and prepared some food for me. From the living room, I could hear the hum of his voice as he spoke.

After half an hour, he entered the kitchen, his footsteps impatient. 

"What are you doing?" he asked. He was peering over my shoulder and looking at the pots and pans on the stove. 

"Cooking."

"Inviting me over for supper?" His voice had a teasing lull. I rolled my eyes. 

"It's not like you will cook your food after you go back. Now that you are here, I might as well feed you." It felt like I had adopted a child, sometimes. He quietly left the room and when I surfaced from the kitchen, I saw him patiently sitting in the living room, waiting for me to bring him food.

I pushed the plate in front of him and waited as he dug in. Only after that did I put the fork in my mouth. It was a boon that he didn't eat non-vegetarian food or else I would have to kick him out of the house every time he wanted to eat over. 

I remembered suddenly the papers that I needed to read through and went to my bedroom to bring my laptop. Placing it on my lap, I ate my food and read meticulously. 

"Focus on one thing at a time," I heard him say suddenly. He had been concentrating on his food the whole time and only seemed to notice what I was doing. I looked at him with confusion. "I know it is hard for you to concentrate on one thing and there are things running in your mind all the time, but you need to finish one task before you anxiously go on to do the next. Right now, your focus should be on sustenance. You need to eat your food and chew it properly." 

It didn't make sense. He must have gauged the same so he placed his fork on the plate and gave me a stern look. 

"You are eating with me. Why don't we engage in a fruitful conversation." I almost coughed. Did the recluse want to talk to me? What happened to not partaking in social niceties?

"What would you like to talk about?" I asked, humoring him nonetheless. 

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" he asked without blinking. I stared at him for a second, taken aback. 

"I'll workout in the morning, then dress up for university and accompany you to cla.s.ses and take notes. After that, I will come home, freshen up, cook dinner, and eat while I enjoy a book." That was her daily routine. 

"Oh, that sounds nice." Yes, my life is somewhat boring, what can I say? I could sigh, but this was how every adult was living their life. "Shouldn't you ask me what I will be doing?" You just had to tell me what you were going to do. No one was stopping you, Mr. Butler. 

"Okay, what will you do tomorrow?" He smiled victoriously. 

"I'll wake up snuggled against my cat. Eat breakfast with her and then I will take you out." What? 

"I'm sorry?" I said dumbly. 

"Don't be. I am not sacrificing a lot of time for you. We don't have any cla.s.ses until 2 in the afternoon tomorrow, so I will be free to take you for your doctor's appointment. You don't have to thank me." He waved it off. I sighed, feeling helpless. Why had I suddenly thought he was telling me that we were going out on a date? What was wrong with me? 

'He is too weird,' I told myself and let it slide. 

"Have you informed the university that you will head in later? And why didn't you just tell me when I came out? You didn't have to pretend like you wanted to talk to me." I could feel a laugh bubbling at my throat, but I kept it at bay, knowing he could be mildly offended. 

"You always tell me that I need to learn how to be social. What better way than to start with you? I also wanted you to know that I was taking time out for you." I nodded. The dichotomy of his character was immense. He was this deeply understanding individual who could process what was happening to her and comfort her in a strange way… but he was also this proud personality that needed to remind everyone that he was a boon to humanity. 

"What's their name?" I asked, changing the topic completely before he went down the dark hole of self-appreciation.

"His name is Philip Knight, one of the best in the country for trauma and violent crime-related mental health issues. I think he will be a great fit for you. If I am not wrong, the last therapist you went to was a child specialist and unequipped to handle the severity and complexity of your condition. Dr. Knight has a record of forty years of treating retired army men who fought wars and people with violent experiences." I looked at him for a second, wanting to… do something. It was a strange feeling, almost an urgency to say or do something that I couldn't understand. 

"You really got the best for me." He shrugged. He went back to eating, but sometimes he would look up at me to check if I was eating or doing something else. I found myself laughing through the whole ordeal. It was the first time I ate without doing something else at the same time.