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and gave the cabbie the address, although I was certain he already knew it. There were only so many drivers in a town this size and I never went anywhere else. I beat myself up again for not having my license. I’d just never gotten around to it—I was a city girl born and raised. Chicago was my home and after all of this was over I was going back. That is how I justified it at least. Really though, I just didn't have the will to learn. Danny said he would teach me, but we didn't make the time in our short life together. We didn’t make the time for a lot of things. Now even thinking about someone else teaching me to drive made me lonely. 
    Dr. Livingston’s office was in its normal state. I sat in the waiting room thumbing through the same boring magazines that were there week after week. Dr. Livingston’s receptionist—the picture of ineptitude—was giggling on the phone with a friend rather than answering other calls. She was very image of a cliché secretary and I loathed her. Her ear piercing laughter echoing through the office and making my ears want to bleed may be what irritated me so much, hard to say. Perhaps I was projecting my anger and animosity for Dr. Livingston on her, since he was the one who forced me to wait for my ridiculous appointments each week. No matter what time I arrived, I always had to wait at least five minutes. Today was no exception. I often wondered if he played these mind games with all of his patients or if I was singled out.
    Finally the insipid airhead said that I could go into the office, a large and spacious room with a minimalist’s décor and two low and not so comfortable sofas. His desk had nothing on it except a lamp, not even a post-it note. Dr Livingston was seated on the edge of one of the sofas with a note pad. He was a small weasely looking man with short brown hair and small wire rimmed glasses. I sat on the other sofa as far away from him as possible and tried to be hostile.
    “Not feeling social today, Ella?”
    “I’m feeling perfectly social,” I said in a completely monotone voice
    “Hmmm.”
    I smiled and lifted my eyebrows slightly. It was a challenge to Dr. Livingston to make the first move in this game of chess. I normally gave in first because otherwise the hour lasted forever, but I liked to make him work for it. After a few minutes of silence and Dr. Livingston watching me expectantly, I broke.
    “Why am I here?”
    “That’s an interesting question.”
    “I don’t get anything  out of these ‘sessions’ except for my anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, and sleeping pills . . . I do like those.”
    “Do you think you need them?”
    “They make life easier. And if I didn’t need them, would you be prescribing them?”
    “Is this life?”
    “What do you mean?” I narrowed my eyes.
    “Is this life, Ella?” he gestured wildly with his hands. “Do you have any other interaction during the week besides with me? Have you established or maintained any relationships? Are you just going through the motions?”
    “I don’t think it’s any of your business who I interact with. This town has nothing for me. No one has helped me. No one has stood by me.  Why should I reach out to them?”
    “Because you’re human.  People need other people. It’s in our genetic makeup. You need people. No one is perfect, Ella. No one can stand up to the impossible standards you set for them, yourself included. Your friends lost Daniel too—you make no allowances for their pain.”
    “They’re not my friends. Friends would have stood by me when everything was falling apart. I don’t need them nor do I want them in my life.”
    “Then why stay?”
    “I can’t leave until it is over,” I mumbled, no longer feeling like talking to him. He wouldn’t understand if I explained it to him. No one would.
    “What’s over?”
    “Danny’s case.”
    “What if the killer is never caught?”
    “Then I’ll stay forever.”
    “Don’t you think Danny would want