The Cloud

My foot tapped out a frantic pace on the waiting room's tile floor, trying to expel some of the energy that was built up inside me. 

  I was manic. I knew this, but even so, I couldn't control it. Energy flowed through me, speeding up my thoughts until they flew by at break-neck pace, and erasing any impulse control I had left. It was incredibly mesmerizing, exhausting, and scary all at once, and it was the reason I was here, only barely able to sit still in the therapy waiting room. 

  The front bell chimed a merry sound, alerting people that more had just arrived. I watched as a woman and her child -- a girl who seemed to be about five -- checked in at the front desk and walked into the waiting room, sitting down a few seats from me. 

  "Hi," I said, smiling at them. 

  The girl looked up at me and grinned, a big toothy smile that lit up her face. "Hi!" she replied excitedly. 

  The woman, who I assumed to be her mother, only spared me a glance up from her phone and a quick, almost dismissive "hello" before returning her gaze to her screen. Her daughter tugged gently on her sleeve.

  "Mommy," she said, "I'm bored."

  The woman sighed. "I know, Annabelle, but we can't leave yet."

  "Why?" 

  "Because I haven't had my appointment yet. We won't be here that long, I promise." 

  Annabelle pouted slightly, hunching over in her seat. I could tell that she wanted something to do and hated sitting still, and in a way, I related to that. 

  I dug my hand through my purse, trying to find the little notepad and pen I always had with me that I relied on for help with remembering things during manic episodes. When I found it, I held it out to the woman.

  "Here," I said, smiling at her. "She can draw on this if she wants to." 

  The woman cracked a smile and took the notepad, handing it over to her daughter before turning back to me. "Thank you," she said gratefully. 

  "No problem. Is this your first time here?" 

  She nodded. "Yes, it is. Is it that obvious?"

  I laughed. "Not really. I just have a knack for noticing these things."

  "Ah."

  "The waiting is always the worst part," I continued. "Everyone here will take good care of you, I promise." 

  At this, she seemed to relax. "Thank you again. You've been really kind to us--"

  "Mrs. Brown?" 

  The woman looked over at the mention of her name. "Yes?" 

  One of the therapists, a man in his forties, smiled gently at her. "I'm ready for you now."

  She nodded and then glanced questioningly at me as something occurred to her. I already knew what she was going to ask.

  "My appointment's at two. I just like to come in early so that way I'm not late. I'm notoriously bad at time management, so it's better for me to be thirty minutes early than thirty minutes late."

   "Oh, I see." She still made no move to get out of her seat. Suddenly, she turned to me and said, "May I ask you something?" 

  "Sure," I replied with a shrug. "Shoot." 

  "Can you watch my daughter?" 

  I blinked, surprised. 

  "I know we just met, but I already trust you. And I know that she won't understand anything of what's going on, but…" She trailed off, staring at the ground. She clearly didn't want her daughter to see whatever part of her she was hiding. 

  I understood that feeling completely, and agreed right away. She thanked me again and headed off with the therapist, leaving a stifling silence in her place, one that was only broken by the slight scratching of a pen on paper, courtesy of Annabelle. 

  Once again, restlessness took over me. Tapping my foot wasn't enough to expel my boundless energy, and I sighed. I didn't want to disturb Annabelle because she looked so concentrated on her drawing, her tongue peeking out of her mouth slightly as she worked on her masterpiece. Still, the urge to talk was overwhelming. 

  "So, what grade are you in, Annabelle?" 

  She glanced up at me and grinned. "Kindergarten," she replied proudly. 

  "That's awesome," I said, laughing slightly. Her enthusiasm was infectious. "What are you drawing?"

  "Henry!"

  "Who's Henry?" 

  She lifted up the drawing, which was a mass of lines in black ink. 

  "That's Henry!" she exclaimed. "He's a cloud!"

  "Why a cloud?" I inquired, interested.

  "Daddy says that sometimes dark clouds hang over people's heads, and that's what's happening to Mommy," she explained. "He said it might happen to me too, so I decided to make mine my friend before he can hurt me!"

  "Uh, yeah, that makes sense," I said, taken aback slightly by the deeper meaning behind it. "Is he a good friend?" 

  She nodded. "The best! He can be a big meanie sometimes, but it's really fun! You should play with us sometime!" 

  "He and I are already well acquainted," I said, smiling gently at her. 

  "Oh, okay," she said. "Mommy's Henry has gotten more mean than usual, and that's why she came here. Do you have a Henry too?" 

  "In a way, yes," I replied. 

  "What's he like?" 

  "He can be mean, but he also makes you feel great too." 

  She gave me a confused look. "How can he do both?" 

  "I wish I knew." 

  "Why don't you? Grownups know everything." 

  I laughed. "Not really. In some ways, we know less than you do." 

  She stopped and contemplated this for a second. "Really?" 

  "Mhm," I said. "Hey, Annabelle, do you have friends other than Henry?" 

  "Yeah!" 

  "Who are they?" 

  She pulled out my notepad and sketched a picture of what I assumed was a person. Her drawing had what looked like large knives sticking out where her shoulder blades would be. "This is Elizabeth! She's a fairy. She takes me to the ends of rainbows and we have big parties there! She has lots of friends, and she always invites them to play with us." 

  "Oh, a fairy," I said, chuckling to myself. Of course they weren't knives, they were wings. 

  "Yeah! She makes wishes come true too!" Suddenly, her face balled up into a small frown. "But she won't give me what I really wish for." 

  "And what is that?"

  She looked me directly in the eyes as she said, "For Mommy to be happy." 

  My heart clenched as I stared at her, her innocent face and hazel eyes shadowed by sadness and by the things she couldn't control. 

  "Hey," I said gently, bending down beside her. "There are some things Elizabeth can't do." 

  She sighed, looking at the tiles on the floor. "Yeah, I know. I also wished for a unicorn, but that didn't work either." 

  I couldn't help but laugh a little.

  "Annabelle, honey, it's time to go," her mother said suddenly from the doorway. Her eyes were slightly puffy and red.

  Just as quickly as the sadness had stolen over Annabelle's face, a big, toothy smile appeared instead, taking its place with ease. "Okay!" she shouted at her mother, leaping up from the seat. 

  Mrs. Brown smiled at her daughter as she grabbed her leg, hugging it close. 

  "Thank you for watching her," she said, hugging her daughter close. 

  "Yeah, thank you!" Annabelle chimed in, beaming brightly, all traces of sadness gone.

  "Anytime," I replied, and I truly meant it. 

  "Now, let's go check out," she said, and with one last glance back at me, gently guided her daughter out of the waiting room and into the lobby. 

  As their car drove away, I returned to my seat with a small sigh. 

  Now that Annabelle was gone and the waiting room was empty except for me, it was too quiet. Too empty. 

  Suddenly, my eyes landed on my notebook, the pen scattered on the floor a distance away where she had knocked it after her abrupt departure from the seat. I picked the notebook up, flipping through the pages of notes and reminders I had left myself in weeks past. 

  Grocery lists, appointment dates, medication pick up times, friends' phone numbers and various other things of a similar nature littered the lined pages, abruptly broken up by the many drawings Annabelle had done. For a second, I contemplated ripping them out and putting them elsewhere, but I immediately quenched the thought. They made me smile, and what better place to put them than here?

  "Hey, Mr. Lopez, are you ready?" 

  "Hmm?" I glanced up and finally noticed my therapist, who was standing just outside the waiting room, a smile on her face. "Oh, right, sorry."

  "You don't have to apologize," she replied kindly. "And, if you don't mind me asking, what's in that book?" Her intelligent blue eyes, though partially hidden by glasses, were lit up with curiosity. "You've been staring at it for awhile." 

  "Just some beautiful art." I got up from my seat and showed her the drawings as we headed to her office.

  "They were done by the little girl who came in here with her mother, right?" she noted instantly. "What an adorable little girl. If she keeps up with this, maybe she'll be an artist." 

  I laughed. "Yeah, maybe. She could also be a musician, a doctor, an engineer, a teacher, or so many other things. She has her whole life ahead of her to decide what she wants to do." 

  "That's the beauty of childhood, isn't it? There really are so many possibilities of life and the directions you can go during it," she mused. "Ah, here we are." She held her office door open for me. "After you, Mr. Lopez."

  Without hesitation, I stepped through the doorway and into the world of healing, and, once I emerged an hour later, the cloud hovering over my head felt noticeably lighter.