“She used to be my father, how do you think that makes me feel?”

Dr. Hawthorne sat across from me, staring blankly forward, dead as ever. I simply moved in my seat, glancing at a nearby clock in his office, realizing my session was close to over.

“And now,” said the good Doctor, “she’ll become your mother permanently.”

“HE’LL become my mother. He’s not a real she. Yet.”

“But she prefers being called a she.”

“Yeah, well, I prefer being called a movie star but I’m not, you know?”

“I’m sensing some hostility.”

I’ve realized when therapists don’t know what to say, they state the obvious. I remained quiet, wondering who the next patient was. If everything worked, and I knew that was a big “if,” by the end of the month perhaps I’d run past that beautiful tree I could only see from my barred window.

“That is all for today, Steve. Thank you.”

He picked up a file on a nearby desk , scribbling something about my character, and through the smoked glass on the other side of the room, I could see his next appointment.

Dr. Hawthorne opened the door for me when suddenly I saw standing next to a hallway guard, my Lily. Her skin still so soft and exhuming that radiance I once tasted. She glanced up at me as Dr. Hawthorne motioned her inside, our arms passing within inches of each other.

I looked at her wide eyes staring me down in silence and then quickly glanced away. She was a manic-depressive and we had been intimate. Could she be the pawn I needed?

I was escorted down the hallway with James, a black orderly who I nicknamed “the brick wall.” He wasn’t someone to cross, but he WAS a person who could get you things (cigarettes, chocolate, Playboys, etc.) as well as play messenger.

“Lily sure is pretty,” I said, our footsteps continuing down the hallway as he remained silent, moving closer to my room. “I sure would like to tell her how pretty she is.”

“Really?” quipped James, unlocking my room door.

I quickly mumbled what I needed James to do for me. He listened carefully and when I was finished, he calmly stated, “That’s going to cost you $50.”

“$50?!”

“Keep your voice down, fool. She’s minimum security, your maximum. What you’re asking for isn’t easy. That costs.”

Before he shut the door, I simply looked at him straight in the eye. “All right. Just tell her.”

He nodded his head, confirming our transaction. If everything went as I hoped, I could be a free man but first I had better find $50 or else James would be taking out his payment in trade.