See Your Analyst

from the Probability Spinner by Regan


Morton Egret doubted every decision he made, from ordering at a restaurant to taking the scenic route. The moment he chose, he risked missing out on something else. The veal Oscar would later melt in his mouth, but he second-guessed himself for the chicken Tikka Masala or the pork tenderloin. He cancelled reservations at the last minute. The sunset would fall gracefully on the western shore, but he berated himself for ignoring the lush twilight beneath evergreens. He lived in a constant state of uncertainty.
He had misgivings for agreeing to the meeting with them. They were both so sure of themselves. Would they respect his opinion? Would they listen to one another? It was so strange, at this point in his life, to be bringing people together. If only they knew about his personal life, they would never accept his professional judgment. He stayed with this occupation because of his freedom. As a consultant, his hours were his own, and he charged enough to get by between that and his pension. His joints ached. He was only there to guide them. What happened afterward was out of his control.
His mind was on other things when they arrived.
He thought of the two women before him as adjectives instead of people. In his line of work, this tactic proved helpful. He treated these people like characters in a never-ending though sometimes entertaining play called life. He could not start learning their names now. They gave their sides of the story, and he advised them to stick it out, to take on a challenge, to embrace difficulties together, but his words fell as hard as that window pane. The women stared ahead with impossible resignation, their eyes empty sockets in a room full of appliances.
He had been no help at all.