The Separation

He sat in the chair, as usual, casting sideways glances at her and then looking at me. Always the same suit, always the same low-level anxiety on display. And it was a display. I would broach the subject in the normal fashion, a suggestion here, question there, feigning concern when really I was past caring. Not so much about him, and his situation, but feeling jaded about everything. And so. Let the charade begin.

- Hello, Curtis, Stephanie. Curtis, how have you been finding things since we last talked?
- Hello Dr Sanderson. Well, really difficult. Hugely. A lot harder than I thought.
-Yes.
- I mean, I cannot accept it. At all.
-Uh huh. Did you try to go on dates, like we discussed?
-Mm, yeah, I tried. I went on one. It was just… well. Uncomfortable.
-How did you feel? Describe it as best you can.
- She talked and I just, I panicked. I couldn’t cope. She could, well, it’s hard to describe. She could have done anything. There was no control. You know I find it hard when girls speak. I hear great crashing sounds in my chest and I feel like I’m going to die.
- I see. But hadn’t we talked about that, about how safe you would be?
- Yes. But at no point did I feel safe.
- How about if I prescribe an anti-anxiety drug, like we talked about, and we try again?
- I might be able to do that, but…
- And we leave Stephanie at home next time?
- God I don’t know. I don’t think I can do it.
- Curtis, the object is to finally let her go. One day, soon, Stephanie is going to leave you. And you have to be able to deal with it. If you like, Stephanie can stay with me for a while. It might make the break easier. The drugs will help.

Curtis went over to the corner chair, where a female silhouette cut a sharp figure in the glow of the lamp.
-What do you think, darling? Will you be happy here? With the Doctor? You know I love you very much, I will never really abandon you. It’s just, well, the Doctor feels I need something else in my life. You do understand, don’t you darling? You won’t be mad?

Stephanie stared ahead of her, straight ahead, her blood-red lips forming all they were ever able to, a large, plastic O.