At the Doctor’s Desk
479 Words
Dr. Levent’s clinic always greeted Selin with the same smell: paper, disinfectant, and a tiny bit of lavender. A combination that tried to be soothing but failed.
Selin sat in the chair. Across from her, Dr. Levent had opened his notebook, his pen ready. She knew this ritual by now.
“How was this week?” the doctor asked.
“Good,” Selin said. She paused. “I mean… fair.”
“Fair meaning?”
Selin clasped her hands in her lap. Outside the window, Istanbul flowed by—cars, people, clouds. Everyone going from somewhere to somewhere. Only Selin stood still, as if outside of time.
“I talk to him,” she said. “Every day. Sometimes for a very long time.”
Dr. Levent didn’t move his pen. “How does this make you feel?”
“Good. Bad.” Selin laughed; short, a bit bitter. “Both at once.”
“That’s normal,” the doctor said. “The grieving process isn’t linear. There are ups and downs—”
“No,” Selin said, gently but firmly. “You’re misunderstanding me. I’m not talking to the past. I’m talking to him, right now, in the real sense.”
Dr. Levent stopped. He set his pen on the desk. “Tell me more.”
Selin told him. Not everything—she couldn’t bring herself to reveal the full truth. But enough. The coffee smell, the cup sliding, the room cooling. As she spoke, she felt Murat’s presence there, in the corner of the office, arms crossed, looking at her as if to say “don’t tell.” But Selin told.
The doctor was silent for a long time.
“Selin,” he finally said, “these experiences feel real, I know. During grief, the brain can create very powerful things. Smell, sound, even the sensation of touch—”
“What about the cup?” Selin said. “It slid and stopped on its own. Pelin and Melis saw it.”
The doctor took notes. He said nothing.
“I’m not going to force you to believe,” Selin said. “I just want to say this: I’m not afraid anymore. In the first days, I was afraid. Now… I’ve accepted it.”
“What’s the difference between accepting and being stuck?” Dr. Levent asked.
This question stopped Selin. It was a real question—not a trap, but genuine curiosity.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I don’t know yet. But I’ll learn.”
As she left the clinic, Murat was waiting at the threshold. “Good answer,” he said.
“Thanks,” Selin said. “But next time, don’t just stand in the corner like that. It’s unsettling.”
Murat laughed. And when Selin heard that laugh, she understood that no theory from the doctor could explain anything.
- Writer
