When Eve walked into his office, Dr. Harley looked at her and said, “Keith Webster did a fantastic job!” The only telltale mark was a very thin, barely visible red scar across her forehead. Eve said, “Dr. Webster is going to remove the scar in a month or so.”
Dr. Harley patted Eve’s arm. “It only makes you more beautiful, Eve. I’m very pleased.” He motioned her to a chair. “What can I do for you?”
“This isn’t about me, John. It’s about Alex.”
Dr. Harley frowned. “Is she having a problem? Something to do with George?”
“Oh, no,” Eve said quickly. “George is behaving perfectly. In fact, it’s George who’s concerned about her. Alex has been acting strangely lately. She’s been very depressed. Suicidal, even.”
Dr. Harley looked at Eve and said flatly, “I don’t believe it. That doesn’t sound like Alexandra.”
“I know. I didn’t believe it either, so I went to see her. I was shocked by the change in her. She’s in a state of deep depression. I’m really worried, John. I can’t go to Gran about it—That’s why I came to you. You’ve got to do something.” Her eyes misted. “I’ve lost my grandmother. I couldn’t bear to lose my sister.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“I’m not sure. I pleaded with her to talk to you about it. At first she refused, but I finally persuaded her. You’ve got to help her.”
“Of course I will. Have her come in tomorrow morning. And try not to worry, Eve. There are new medications that work miracles.”
Dr. Harley walked her to the door of his office. He wished Kate were not so unforgiving. Eve was such a caring person.
When Eve returned to her apartment, she carefully cold-creamed away the red scar on her forehead.
The following morning at ten o’clock, Dr. Harley’s receptionist announced, “Mrs. George Mellis is here to see you, Doctor.”
“Send her in.”
She walked in slowly, unsure of herself. She was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes.
John Harley took her hand and said, “It’s good to see you, Alexandra. Now what’s this I hear about your having problems?”
Her voice was low. “I feel foolish bothering you, John. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with me. If Eve hadn’t insisted, I never would have come. I feel fine, physically.”
“What about emotionally?”
She hesitated. “I don’t sleep very well.”
“What else?”
“You’ll think I’m a hypochondriac…”
“I know you better than that, Alexandra.”
She lowered her eyes. “I feel depressed all the time. Sort of anxious and…tired. George goes out of his way to make me happy and to think up things for us to do together and places for us to go. The problem is that I don’t feel like doing anything or going anywhere. Everything seems so—hopeless.”
He was listening to every word, studying her. “Anything else?”
“I—I think about killing myself.” Her voice was so soft he could barely hear her. She looked up at him and said, “Am I going crazy?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t think you’re going crazy. Have you ever heard of anhedonia?”
She shook her head.
“It’s a biological disturbance that causes the symptoms you’ve described. It’s a fairly common condition, and there are some new drugs that make it easy to treat. These drugs have no side effects, and they’re effective. I’m going to examine you, but I’m sure we won’t find anything really wrong.”
When the examination was completed and she had gotten dressed again, Dr. Harley said, “I’m going to give you a prescription for Wellbutrin. It’s part of a new generation of antidepressants—one of the new wonder drugs.”
She watched listlessly as he wrote out a prescription.
“I want you to come back and see me a week from today. In the meantime, if you have any problems, call me, day or night.” He handed her the prescription.
“Thank you, John,” she said. “I just hope these will stop the dream.”
“What dream?”
“Oh, I thought I told you. It’s the same one every night. I’m on a boat and it’s windy, and I hear the sea calling. I walk to the rail and I look down and I see myself in the water, drowning…”