For this post I am sticking with Jack Frost. The following scene is between a child Jack and his therapist. As always feel free to leave a comment and
“Grandpa Frank, I don’t want to be here,” Jack bitterly complained.
“Don’t frown Jack, you look like you just ate a lemon. There’s nothing wrong with talking to a doctor Jack,” Grandpa Frank sternly informed his grandson.
“I’m not crazy,” Jack pouted.
“Never said you were. But you do need to talk about how you feel with someone that you can trust to keep your secrets. And Dr. Sands is the most trustworthy person I know,” Grandpa Frank sagely informed with a twinkle in his eyes. Jack sat there pouting at having to talk to a stranger.
The two were sitting in a baby blue waiting room. They were sitting on the only two cushioned chairs in this odd room. The other chairs were brightly colored and hard plastic. Wooden frames hung on the walls.
Each frame was filled with a different picture. Most were done in crayons. All of them seemed to revolve around snow and winter. One picture was different. For starters it wasn’t done in crayon nor was it bright.
Muted would be the best word to describe it. The picture contained a large glass box that was engraved with icicles. Holly was entwined with the icicles. If Jack stared hard enough he could almost make out a figure in the glass box.
Cocking his head Jack rose from his chair and crossed the room. Jack stood on his toes to try and get a better look at the picture. As Jack concentrated on the picture he began to get light headed.
“Jack,” a soft male voice called from across the room.
Jack shook his head and turned to see a portly, balding man standing next to an oak door. Slumping his shoulders Jack walked towards the man. Jack glared at Grandpa Frank as he passed him. It took no more than a few seconds for Jack to reach the open door.
“I’m Dr. Simon Sands. You can call me Simon,” Dr. Sands jovially greeted as he ushered Jack into his office.
Jack shuffled his feet across the thresh hold before freezing in his tracks. Jack barely heard Simon close the door. This office was incredible. The walls were a sandy color and seemed to swirl when they were stared at. On every solid surface was a snow globe. Blue and purple icicle lights hung from the ceiling and several quilts were stacked high on a plush couch.
“Wow,” Jack breathed, “You really like winter.”
“That and sleep,” Simon chuckled.
“You have the neatest office I have ever seen,” Jack complimented.
“Thank you. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable,” Simon invited.
Forgetting that he didn’t want to be there, Jack quickly climbed on the couch and burrowed in.
“Why don’t you tell me about yourself,” Simon asked quietly.
Jack frowned. He had no clue how to talk to a stranger about himself. Jack didn’t like talking about himself. Scrunching his brow Jack asked, “What do you want to know?”
“Anything you want to tell me. For instance do you have a favorite color,” Simon asked patiently.
“Blue,” Jack replied shortly.
“What shade of blue?”
“All colors. Especially when they mix with light and water to create the colors of winter. Winter’s my favorite season,” Jack finished wistfully.
“Why is that?”
“Because winter is fun. You can make snowmen and have snowball fights. You can slide down hills and skate. But most of all you can dance,” Jack finished giddily.
“Do you like to dance,” Simon asked.
“Not really,” Jack shrugged noncomittally.
“What else do you like?”
“What about your Grandpa?”
“I’m not sure right now. I didn’t want to come here.”
“What about your family?”
Jack’s blue eyes lit up at the mention of his family. “My sister. Noelle. She is the best,” Jack enthused.
“Where is she now?”
“She’s sick in the hospital. It seems like everyone is forgetting her. Mom and Dad had to leave the country for work and Grandpa Frank keeps trying to get me to play. I can’t play without Noelle,” Jack harshly muttered.
“Why can’t you play without her,” Simon asked.
“Because she is the only one who ever cared for me. It wouldn’t be right,” Jack harshly insisted.
“Your grandpa loves you,” Simon stated.
Jack sneered before replying, “Not really. He didn’t start coming around until we were five.”
“Just because he wasn’t always there doesn’t mean he doesn’t care,” Simon gently explained.
Jack just frowned sourly at that. “If you love someone, you should be there for them,” Jack insisted.
“Sometimes being there isn’t possible Jack. Sometimes things change,” Simon patiently explained.