Psychiatrist:
Tell me about your accident.
Milly:
I was on a bridge, reaching for a flower and I fell over the railing.
Psychiatrist:
You told your mother something about a boy who rescued you.
Milly:
What are you, a shrink?
Psychiatrist:
Yes.
Milly:
Great, now I'm wacko.
Psychiatrist:
It's important that you tell me everything you remember about this. Let me be the judge of whether you're wacko or not, okay?
Milly:
Yeah, okay. I fell fifty feet without a mark on me, except for this.
[points to the small bandage on her forehead]
Milly:
And I got this when I hit the railing. I didn't hit the ground. Somebody caught me. It was a boy named Eric. He can fly.
[pause]
Milly:
I'm wacko, right?
Psychiatrist:
No. Did you see him fly?
Milly:
No, but you don't know Eric. All he does is sit in his windowsill and pretend to fly. His uncle said he's seen him do it and I've seen really weird things around their house. He can. What other explanation could there be?
Psychiatrist:
Well, you fell. You have a concussion. You were losing consciousness. Maybe what you thought was Eric catching you was a tree or a bush breaking your fall. Your mind could be playing tricks on you. It can do that.
Milly:
That's impossible.
Psychiatrist:
It's more possible than a boy who could fly.
[long pause]
Psychiatrist:
Dr. Nelson told me about your father. He committed suicide not long ago.
Milly:
[defiantly]
He did not.
Psychiatrist:
How did he die?
Milly:
[with difficulty]
My father had cancer. And when he found out that he had it... he didn't want the rest of the family to suffer needlessly. So one day, he kissed us all goodbye and he said that he loved us all very much.
[crying]
Milly:
Then he went away.
