A prequel to the Amazon #1 Bestseller—The Last Appointment

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Dr. Saul Geier adjusted the angle of his leather armchair to catch the morning light streaming through his tenth-floor office.  The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Central Park South. The city sprawled below, chaotic yet oddly comforting in its rhythm. At seventy-two, Geier had seen it all: the rise and fall of patients, colleagues, and even New York’s skyline. Today, however, he was meeting someone he hadn’t anticipated.

Susan Lark.

The name sounded young, unpolished. A recent graduate, no doubt, Geier mused. He had reluctantly agreed to meet her upon a recommendation from a colleague he respected—a rare thing these days.

He should be contemplating retirement, not starting something new. But for him, retirement was the R-word. If he dropped dead in his office, that would be the perfect exit.

 

A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts. Before he could answer, the door creaked open, and a whirlwind of auburn hair and nervous energy stepped inside. Lark was younger than he expected, in her mid-twenties at most. Her eyes, hazel and restless, darted around the room as if cataloging every detail. Her clothes were neat but lacked the precision of someone who had mastered the art of presentation. Geier’s trained eye caught the fraying thread on her sleeve, the faint ink smudge on her wrist. She was nervous—and trying not to show it.

“Dr. Geier,” she began, extending a hand. “Thank you for seeing me. I—I know you’re very busy.”

Geier took her hand briefly, noting the firm grip despite the tremor. “Ms. Lark. Sit.” He gestured to the chair opposite his desk, a formidable mahogany barrier between them. “You’ve come highly recommended by Dr. Locke. He seems to imagine you have potential.”

Lark settled into the chair, her back unnaturally straight. “I’m grateful for Dr. Locke’s endorsement. He’s been a great mentor.”

“Is that so?” Geier’s tone was measured, his expression blank. “Tell me, Ms. Lark, why do you wish to work with me? Surely Locke has enough insight to guide your career.”

Flattery

Lark took a deep breath. “I admire your work, Dr. Geier. Your writings on transference and countertransference have shaped the way I think about patient relationships. But more than that, I’ve read your case studies. You don’t just understand people—you see through them like a psychological X-ray. You find the truth.”

Geier’s lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “Flattery, Ms. Lark? It’s a common tactic among those hoping to impress their elders.” He picked up his Stanwell pipe from its stand and rotated it in his left hand.

Lark’s cheeks flushed. “I’m not trying to flatter you. I’m… I’m here because I want to learn from the best. And because I believe I’m good at this. But I know I can be better.”

Geier leaned back, putting the unlit pipe to his lips. “Confidence is an admirable trait. Overconfidence, less so. What makes you think you have the potential to excel in this field? And why, of all people, should I be the one to guide you?”

Lark’s gaze didn’t falter. “I’ve always… seen things others miss. Patterns, inconsistencies. Even as a child, I could sense what people weren’t saying. And in my training, I’ve learned how to turn that intuition into a tool. I don’t just listen to patients—I hear them, I see them. Their fears, their contradictions. I’ve had some success with tough cases already.”

Geier’s blue eyes, sharp despite his years, narrowed. He leaned forward.  “Examples?”

Lark hesitated again, this time longer. “There was a woman, mid-forties, who’d seen three therapists before me. None of them could get her to talk about her recurring nightmares. She came to me as a last resort. I didn’t push her. I listened. I… I noticed the way she flinched whenever she mentioned her sister. Over time, she started to open up. It turned out the nightmares weren’t about her but about guilt over her sister’s death. It wasn’t in any of the intake notes. No one else had caught it.”

Geier’s expression remained inscrutable. “And what did you do with this revelation?”

“We worked through it,” Lark said. “It wasn’t easy, but she’s in a better place now. She’s even started painting again, something she hadn’t done since her sister passed.”

Geier held out his pipe and tamped in a pinch of Captain Black, struck a match, and inhaled deeply. A plume of blue, acrid smoke curled upward, drifting in a cloud toward Lark. She crinkled her nose and coughed but said nothing.

Destiny

Geier’s silence stretched, filling the room. Lark shifted slightly but didn’t break eye contact. Finally, Geier spoke. “Empathy and intuition are valuable tools in our profession, Ms. Lark. But they are not enough. This field will chew you up and spit you out if you don’t have the resilience to match your insight. Tell me, why psychiatry? Why not some other branch of medicine where intuition might serve you just as well?”

Lark’s lips parted, but for a moment, no words came. Then, quietly: “Because it matters. Because understanding people, and helping them heal, it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. And because I believe… I believe it’s my destiny.”

Geier studied her and chuckled. “Destiny? Ah, the optimism of youth. Very well, Ms. Lark. I’ll take you on, but understand this: I demand excellence. Anything less, and I will not hesitate to tell you to find another mentor.”

Lark’s eyes widened. “Thank you, Dr. Geier. I won’t let you down.”

“We shall see,” Geier said. He leaned back again and expelled another plume of smoke. “We shall see.”

Ability

Geier extinguished the match between his thumb and index finger and dropped it into the crowded ashtray. “Since you mentioned difficult cases, let me share one. A patient of mine—let’s call him Mr. X—has made the extraordinary claim that he can render himself invisible.”

Lark’s brow furrowed. “Invisible? As in metaphorically unseen, or literal invisibility?”

Geier smirked. “Oh, he insists it’s quite literal. He’s detailed several instances in which he claims to have disappeared in front of people. Naturally, I assumed delusion or some elaborate coping mechanism.”

“What do you surmise is causing it?” Lark asked.

“I suspect it’s a manifestation of dissociation, perhaps stemming from trauma,” Geier replied. “However, the curious part is this: every time he speaks of his ‘disappearances,’ there’s a peculiar sense of conviction… almost as if he believes it too completely.”

“Has he ever demonstrated this ability?” Lark’s tone carried a hint of skepticism.

Geier hesitated. “During our last session, he stood at the center of the room and declared he would ‘dematerialize.’ I dismissed it as theatrics. Yet, as I looked at him, it was as though he was fading… and then, he was gone. Not out the door, not under the desk. Simply gone.”

Lark blinked. “Gone? Are you certain he didn’t slip out when you weren’t looking?”

“I was watching him the entire time,” Geier said, his tone unsettled. “When I stood to search, the room was empty. No windows open, no hidden exits. Just… empty.”

“And you’re sure you weren’t… imagining it?”

“Are you saying I’m losing my grip, Ms. Lark?” Geier asked, his voice carrying a sharp edge.

“Not losing your grip, but perhaps… over-analyzing? Could this be a trick? A cleverly timed escape?”

Geier shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve replayed that moment in my mind countless times. And every time, it defies explanation.”

Lark leaned back, her brow creased. “If what you’re saying is true, it’s beyond what science can currently explain. But we also have to consider psychological factors. Maybe he’s planted doubt in your mind intentionally. Some patients are skilled manipulators.”

Geier smiled faintly, tapping the ash from his pipe. “An intriguing theory, Ms. Lark. Perhaps you’ll get the chance to meet him someday soon. For now, let’s see if you can handle simpler challenges.”

As Lark left his office, Geier returned to his chair by the window. The city outside continued its relentless march, indifferent to beginnings and endings. Two red-tailed hawks circled above the park. For the first time in years, Geier felt a surge of something unfamiliar: curiosity. Perhaps, he mused, there was still more to learn after all.

He turned his pipe upside down and tapped the ashes and still-glowing embers into the large marble ashtray. And then, like the smoke from his pipe, he vanished.

-END-

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I’m Processing
Books Unread
Nora Delivers the Package
The Permission Slip
10 Life Lessons I Learned from Playing Poker
Missing the Ghost in the Palace Theater
Moon Landing Memories
Word Drunk

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