AN: So, this isn't my first story, but it is the first one I've ever posted on this site. I don't care if you review or not, or if you think it's good (althought any constructive criticism is completely welcomed). The main reason I'm posting this is for two of my friends. It's much easier to just say, "Hey, I updated," instead of "Hey, I've got aother eleven pages to read to you." So there ya go.

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Heart of a Name

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Lilianna Tennor was crazy.

Okay, maybe not. But she had come to terms with the fact that she was definitely not normal.

And, hey, if her family wanted to call her crazy, she could call herself crazy, too. The only person she had met so far who didn’t think she was crazy was her shrink, Dr. Pepper.

No. His name isn’t really Dr. Pepper. But I’ll get to that in a minute.

You see, Lilianna, or Anna, as she preferred, had an idea. Her idea was quite simple. And despite everyone telling her that her expectations were too high, she had held the same idea from the time she was twelve.

Her idea was the ideal.

Seriously. The ideal. She wanted the ideal everything. The ideal job. The ideal home. The ideal pet, family, friends. And maybe even the ideal guy, if she had time in between all her other ideals. The only problem was no one else wanted her to have the ideal. Her mother Andrea was the worst. Her mother Andrea was the whole reason Anna was seeing Dr. Pepper in the first place.

“I’m not going to see a shrink, Mother.”

Andrea rolled her eyes. “He’s not a shrink; he’s a therapist. And I think it’ll do you some good. You need to talk to people.”

“But I do talk to people, Mom. Madison, and Erika, and Libby, and–”

Andrea shook her head dismissively. “They aren’t people, Anna. Those are your friends. I mean… more experienced people.”

Anna snorted, snatching the soapy dish away from her mother. “You mean older and more worldly people.” Andrea was already shaking her head. “You mean pessimistic people.”

“I do not mean that, Lilianna.”

Anna closed the dishwasher with a snap. “Then what do you mean, Mom?” She leaned against the counter as she dried her hands with a dish towel.

“I mean that you are twenty–four years old and you haven’t done anything with your life yet.”

“I’ve done plenty.”

“That book of yours doesn’t count.”

Anna bit her tongue. No way was she diving into that pit again. Andrea was now counting things off on her fingers.

“You haven’t gone to college, you haven’t chosen a real profession. You still live in that dinky old apartment. You haven’t gone out with a boy since you were, what, seventeen?”

“Twenty–three.”

Andrea sighed. “You’re in a state of limbo, Anna. I think Dr. Piper can help you out of it.”

“I’m not in a state of anything,” Anna said decisively, grabbing her coat and scarf. “And I’m not going to see any shrink.”

“Oh, come on, Anna. Don’t be stupid.”

She slipped on her boots and opened the front door as Andrea stood behind her with her arms crossed. Tiny snowflakes littered the ground outside, blades of frozen grass peeking out. She sighed impatiently. “I’ll see you next Sunday. I’m running late enough as it is; I promised Casper a walk.”

Andrea opened her mouth to complain but Anna was already out the door.

But, of course, all mothers nag. It’s their job. So instead of splitting a pizza with her roommate Thursday evening, Lilianna found herself in Dr. Piper’s office.

From what Anna gathered, Dr. Andrew Piper was a man of few words. Anna had been sitting on that couch for twenty minutes, staring at him. But he didn’t say anything. She figured he was waiting for her to say something, but what do you say to a man who’s determined to find something wrong with you? Hey, Piper, my mom sent me here because she thinks my idea of life is too big and that I need to aim lower! No way. That would lead to the question, ‘what is your idea of life?’ And then that would lead to her answer of her expectations, which could only be described as specific, and then he’d tell her that each of her hopes and dreams were an emotional manifestation of some way–out psycho–illness, that she needed to take two placebos and call him in the morning.

Okay, maybe not that last part. But sure as hell the rest of it.

“You seem conflicted, Miss Tennor,” he said finally, smoothing his salt–and–pepper mustache. She thought idly of his name: Dr. Piper. Maybe he got teased when he was a kid like Anna had. Being a Tennor, everyone half–expected the deep voice. Did they joke and ask him where his flute was? Or maybe they made other names out of his. Anna, on several occasions, had been called Tipsy Tennor for her klutziness when nervous. He could’ve been something just as stupid, like Pipsqueak Piper. Or maybe something cool, she reasoned. His office showed plenty of football paraphernalia. He could’ve easily been Pep Talk Piper. Anna had never had a cool nickname like that. She suddenly felt bitter. What’s something stupid she could refer to him as… Dr. Piper… Hmm… Piper, viper, Piper, leper… Wait… Pepper… Dr. Pepper. A smile broke out across her face. Dr. Pepper. How funny it would be to tell Erika about this later…

“Miss Tennor? Are you with me?” Dr. Piper asked jokingly. “You scheduled an hour long session, and a third of it is gone. There must be something you wanted to talk about.”

Anna, turning her attention to him at last, shrugged. “I’m only here because my mother wants me to be here.”

His eyebrows slid into his hairline. “I see.” She sighed.

“No, my mother doesn’t control me. I’m not suffering from any independence issues.” She fiddled with the strap of her purse. “I’m actually here so my mother will get off my back.” She chuckled. “If I come here, it’ll quiet her down enough where I can enjoy Sunday dinners in peace.”

He pursed his lips slightly. “May I ask why she thinks you should be seeing a therapist?”

Anna grinned despite herself. “I have high expectations for myself.” He seemed genuinely interested and gestured for her to begin but she shook her head. “No reason for me to tell you if I’m only here this once.” Feeling slightly braver, she pulled her feet onto the couch, hoping he‘d complain. He didn’t object, but scribbled something on his note pad. She looked at it sourly.

“Something wrong?” he asked, continuing to write.

“What are you writing there?”

He shrugged. “Notes to myself.”

“May I read them?”

He chuckled, “I suppose,” and handed her the papers. Only a few lines at the top were spotted with black ink.

She sighed, handing him back the papers. He chuckled again. “I’m not going to report back to your mother, you know. There is that whole confidentiality agreement. And I don’t write notes about patients who are… first–timers, so to speak. To be honest, it’s a waste of paper.”

“So lots of people do what I’m going to do?”

“What? Visit once, pay the bill, and leave, never to be seen again?” He mulled it over. “Yeah. A lot of people do that.” He grinned. “But of course, I can’t tell you who.”

She nodded, glancing at the wall. It was spotted in numerous degrees and framed photographs. One had a picture of a little girl blowing out the candles on a purple birthday cake, with Dr. Piper smiling behind her. Anna counted the candles: one, two, three, four, five, six. So his daughter was probably six. A small piece of her wondered what her name was.

“That’s my daughter. Diana. Named after the Princess of Wales, if it wasn’t obvious. My wife is a huge fan. Was devastated when she died…” He drifted away for a moment, before coughing into his fist. “She’s eight now. My daughter, I mean. I wouldn’t be surprised if she followed in my footsteps. As her father, I can tell you how aggravating it is when your daughter knows why you pause in the middles of sentences. We don’t have to tell her much, but she knows. All the little day–to–day problems in the family. Her teachers say she has a hard time concentrating because she spends too much time analyzing everyone in the class.”

Anna smiled, appeasing this train of thought in the doctor. “She’s very pretty.”

The doctor smiled. “Thank you. A carbon copy of her mother, in my opinion. But I suppose it’s fair. Benjamin,” he pointed to another photo, one of a teenage boy in a football jersey, “and Carson,” another, this time a boy making a funny face in front of a Christmas tree, “look just like me.” He half–smiled. “Or so they tell me.”

Anna glanced at these photos and drifted away, only half–noticing her next question: “How old are they?”

“Ben is almost eighteen; Carson is eleven.” Anna nodded, and had the urge to tell a bit about herself. It was only fair, she reasoned. An exchange of information, if anything. An eye for an eye. A thought for a thought.

“I never really see myself having kids. Well, I do, but it’s not something I dream about. Like my friend Libby. That’s all she talks about. The fact that she’s twenty–seven and unmarried… She’s just unhappy, in my opinion. She wants the white picket fence and all that jazz… The only thing I find interesting is their names.”

“What about their names?” Dr. Piper asked, resting his chin on his fist.

“Just the patterns, I suppose. And the fact that names are important. Take your kids for instance. Did you ever notice you named them alphabetically? Ben, Carson, Diana. B, C, D. And Diana was named after a princess. I’m sure you call her your little princess, it’s only fitting.” She stood up to look at the pictures more closely. “I love my name, to be quite honest. Lilianna. There are only four different letters in it, but it’s still pretty. Most people like to call me Lily for short, but I’ve always preferred Anna.”

“How come?”

“It’s the same backwards and forwards…” She smiled slightly at him before moving on. “I always liked the idea of naming kids. Looking at their faces and figuring out a name to fit it. I hate people who have names picked out in advance… Well, not really. I don’t hate my friend Madison. She’s six months pregnant. A girl,” she said, answering his unvoiced question. “She wants to name her Cadence. So she can call her Cady for short. Cadence Marie. It’s a pretty name, but I don’t know… I think you should meet a person face–to–face before you decide what to call them.”

Dr. Piper watched her, thinking of his answer. “I suppose that’s true,” he said slowly.

“And another thing,” she interrupted. “The middle name is Marie. I find that so… generic. Everyone’s middle name is Marie.”

“Mine isn’t,” he said. They laughed.

“What is your middle name?” she asked after a pause, sitting down and slouching on the leather couch.

“Jonathon. Yours?”

She sighed, a grim smile playing across her lips. “Marie.”

He laughed, and after a second she laughed, too. “Lilianna Marie,” Dr. Piper said thoughtfully. “It fits, at least.”

“Yeah, because Marie goes with everything. To be honest, I think naming a girl Marie is just a sign of laziness. There isn’t any real thought put into a name like Marie.”

He nodded a bit, before adding, “Diana’s middle name is Felicity.”

Instant smile. “That’s a good middle name. Diana Felicity Piper. I like that.”

A few moments passed while Anna thought to herself. Dr. Piper watched her patiently, waiting for another burst of speech.

“Dr. Piper?” she said after a moment. He raised his brows.

“Yes?”

She squinted her eyes as if remembering something. “Earlier you said a lot of people come to you once and don’t bother visiting again. I know you can’t really tell me why, but I’m curious.” She sat up and sent him a questioning glance. “What is your professional reasoning when people don’t visit more than once?”

He mulled that over a moment, once again stroking his mustache. “Well, I suppose there’s plenty of reasons. Most people don’t really need to come. They’re usually overreacting. Make a mole hill out of an ant hill, so to speak. Then there are people who run away from their problems. Sometimes they come back after a few months of running… When they’re tired. And then there are the people who come, have a real breakthrough, and don’t need to come back. They just needed a signpost to tell them which way to go.”

“Which category do I fall under?” Anna asked instantly.

“I can’t answer that.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

“Anna?” he said, with a glance to see if she minded him using this name. She nodded. “Anna, it is not my job to give you the answers. It is my job to listen while you’re searching. I don’t promise miracles, or roadmaps. All I’m here to do is weed out the crazies from the rest of the population. And when part of the population is edging into the world of the crazies, I help pull them back. If that makes sense,” he added, furrowing a brow.

Anna stared at him a moment, a question in her eyes.

“No, Anna,” he said, answering her. “You are not crazy.”

An electronic beep issued from the watch on his wrist, signaling the end of the hour. “Well. That concludes your session. I just have one question to ask you.”

Anna mentally shook herself, getting rid of other thoughts. “What is it?”

“Will you be scheduling another visit?”

Anna thought about this, and after a moment, she asked, “Is it wrong to think about it a few days?”

He smiled tiredly. “Of course not. Just call the office if you need to visit.” She nodded, thanked him for his time, and left.

And so, Anna became a runner. She hadn’t addressed any of her internal struggles that night with Dr. Piper, but she had realized she had always been running. There were little problems, maybe related, maybe not. And maybe, in time, she’d address them. One by one. But at the moment, as she drove through evening traffic, watching the sun set on another November day, she preferred running.

And she’d run until she was thoroughly exhausted.

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AN: So there's the first chapter... Enjoy, I suppose. Lol.