Act 3, Scene 2
Ian, the Therapist
Wednesday, April 6th, 3:00 pm
That same day, at a medical building housing the offices of Dr. Gerald
M. Ventor, Associates in Clinical Social Work, Child Psychology and
Psychiatry, located in a town somewhat larger than, but not
particularly far from, Nigel's.
"Are you Doctor Ventor?" Nigel asked in apprehension.
The fellow in the white smock seemed momentarily surprised by the
question.
"Oh, no. Not at all." He explained. "I'm Ian Monroe, the child
therapist. I work for Doctor Ventor. I'll be doing an evaluation on
you to see how you might be helped."
This answer made Nigel even more apprehensive. He felt compelled to
hold his penis, but managed to resist the urge. Instead, he worked up
the gumption to ask the most important of all his questions, and he
had many.
"Will you put me away in a home for loony children?"
The therapist laughed.
"Oh, for goodness sakes, no. Don't be so worried." Ian reassured.
"You'll go home with your mum in a little while. Today we'll just
talk about you and how you feel. I promise."
Nigel didn't seem particularly reassured.
"Where's Mummy?" he asked.
"No worries." Ian replied, "She's just right out the door."
Nigel leaped off the examination table, clicked open the door and
peered out.
"No, she's not," he said, "She's not there."
"Come on back in, Nigel." Ian shut the door. "You don't need to climb
back on the table. Here. Sit in the chair beside me, so we can talk
better and, if we're lucky, we'll get to be good friends."
"Yes, sir."
"She's right out in the waiting area." Ian reassured. "I promise."
Nigel wasn't reassured.
"Now, Nigel. Why do you think you're here today?"
"I don't know, sir."
Ian held up a hand.
"Please. Call me Ian. I'm not the headmaster, you know. How else
are we going to become friends?"
"Yes, Mr. Ian."
"Can we be friends, then?"
"Yes sir, Ian."
"I haven't been knighted, either," Ian chuckled. "So, is there
anything you want to talk about, or say, or tell me."
"I don't think so."
"Look," Ian suggested, "Let's make a pact. We'll talk about things,
and if there are things we don't want anyone else to ever, ever know,
How's that sound?"
"I don't know. Can I see Mummy?"
excitement, "What do you say?"
"I guess it's alright."
"Good, Nigel." Ian leaned back in his chair, patting the boy's knee.
"When can I see Mummy?"
anything at all you want to talk about, or tell me?"
There was an uncomfortable pause. Ian gave an encouraging smile.
"No, sir."
curiosity and concern. Nigel recognised it. Mrs. Farthley also
smiled that smile.
"I see you've got a very nice watch, on. Pooh, isn't it?" he said,
taking the boy's wrist, "So can you tell me why you've taken off all
your clothes except that watch, and put them there, in the corner?"
"I don't know." Nigel began to fidget with his penis. "It's
uncomfortable in here."
"Why else? How do you feel when you remove your clothes?"
"Comfortable."
"Would you like to draw what you are feeling?" Ian suggested, "We've
got nice paper and colouring pencils here."
"No, thank you." Nigel murmured.
"Alright. How do you feel JUST BEFORE you start taking off your
clothes?"
"Uncomfortable."
"Is that a bruise on your shoulder?" Ian bent forward to get a closer
look.
Nigel craned his head about to examine it.
"Does it hurt?" Ian asked. He poked the boy's shoulder.
"Just a bit, sir."
"Were you in fight at school?"
"Yes, sir. He took my Pooh watch."
"Let's get you up on the table again, Nigel, and take a look at you."
Without waiting for Nigel's response, the therapist neatly picked him
up and set him very gently on the table.
"Without clothes, you're about as light as the ether! So, while I
have a look at you, and you think of things we can talk about."
Ian slid on a pair of exam gloves. He was very careful as he looked
over Nigel's face and head, occasionally feeling through the boy's
ruffled hair for lumps or other anomalies. When he ran his hands
softly over the boy's shoulders, Nigel sort of fretfully bent forward
to conceal the fact he was getting a stiffy.
"It's alright." Ian said, "I'm nearly done. You don't look too badly
off, at all."
He ran a hand down over the boy's spine, then over his legs and his
feet and ankles. Nigel was a tense as a guy-wire.
mentioned casually. "Does it hurt?"
Nigel shook his head.
"How do you feel when you do that?" Ian asked in a serious tone, "Is
it good or bad?"
fingers around his stiffy.
"It looks like it's swelling up a bit," Ian observed. "I'd best take a
look."
He snapped off his exam gloves, which Nigel thought was a strange
thing to do, and reached out
.
let go now. There you are. Isn't that better? How do you feel now?"
"I don't know ..." Nigel stammered.
"Does it feel better now? You know, it's not a bad thing to like the
feeling." Ian smiled and glanced down. "You see, it's very stiff and
swollen, indeed!"
His face flushed, Nigel opened his mouth to speak. At first, nothing
came out.
"Yes?" Ian asked as he pursed his lips and lowered his head towards
the object of his intense interest.
"I'm sorry, sir," the boy blurted, "I have to go to the lavatory."
Nigel nimbly leapt off the table and Ian staggered back.
"The lavvie is right back here," the therapist said after him, and
heaving a sigh, mopped his forehead with a handkerchief.
When Nigel reappeared, Ian was seated in his exam chair, his eyes
closed and his head tilted back.
"Are you feeling alright, sir?"
Ian sat up with a start.
"Pardon?"
"Are you ill?" the boy asked quite innocently.
"No, no. You just gave me a bit of a scare." Ian smiled weakly, then
almost as an afterthought glanced at his wrist watch. "I see time is
nearly up. Get dressed and I'll take you out to your mum."
Nigel obliged him with surprising speed, and the therapist led him
out. As they reached the door to where Nigel's mum waited, Ian
squatted down beside the boy.
"I hope to see you again, soon. Now you remember our pact, don't
you?" he said. "I promised and you promised."
"Yes, sir," Nigel whispered timidly, and walked out.
HMSVV2010
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