Beatrice didn’t want to talk today. She sat in front of me for one hour, without saying a word. I asked her questions, I used all the techniques that I could find in the dusty books of my mind, but nothing worked: not a movement, not a word, just a scared look in her eyes. She still has these moments, days when her memory goes back to her past and nostalgia holds her tighter in its arms.
In the end I told her that everything will be good: things always get better. I’m not always sure this is the case, but I think it is the truth for her: she can only improve. I think her eyes opened up a little bit, a shadow of relief softly touched her forehead.
I’ve been telling myself the same thing, actually: everything will be good. For me and for my patients. This forced optimism helps me visualize Mrs. F really happy and in love in London. It also gives me the energy to think about a plan of action for James: hopefully we can talk soon to his family’s lawyer, and his investigations can let us understand if my patient had any role in the murderous explosion at the warehouse. If so, the lawyer better be a very good one, but I hope we won’t have to follow this road.
As I usually say, hope is a spark.
Dr. Alexander Williams