Ghosted by Shaughnessy Bishop-Stall Page B

Somewhat true
    E = Extremely true
        “I don’t get it.”
    The man (Mason had already forgotten his name) looked up from the desk. “What part?”
    “What does
somewhat true
mean?”
    “Oh, that. Just answer best as you can.”
         1. I feel isolated and alone.
    2. Music is a gift from God.
    3. I would very much like to belong to several clubs.
        “By ‘true’ do you mean
applicable?”
    “What?”
    “Like somewhat
applicable
, or not
applicable
at all?”
    “Sure. Yeah. Do it that way.”
    Mason turned back to the questionnaire.
    4. If I were a sculptor I would not sculpt figures in the nude.
    5. I sometimes drink more than I should at social functions or sports events.
    6. The top of my head feels soft.
    7. I have never urinated blood.
        “Wow.”
    Silence.
    “This is a weird section.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    8. At times I hear so well it bothers me.
    9. I believe I dream in colour.
    10. I have little or no fear of the future.
        This completes Socrates #4.
        “Are there any more like this?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “For, um, Socrates #4?”
    The man put down the file he was looking at. “You want more of them?”
    “Do you
have
more?”
    “Let me see.” He picked up a spiral-bound book and flipped some pages. Then he started to read: “‘This section is culled from a list of five hundred Socratic statements. They are designed to, among other things, disrupt the subject’s pattern of answering questions by rote. They also supply the trained Socratic analyst with a unique spectrum of personal information.’”
    “So there’s five hundred more of them?”
    “Four hundred and ninety, apparently.”
    “Do you think I could get a copy?”
    “What for, exactly?”
    Mason imagined five hundred different people blurting out the first thing that came to them. He pictured their thoughts, scattered somehow throughout his novel. “I don’t really know,” he said.
    “I’ll tell you what,” said the man. “You’ve still got …,” he looked at the notebook, “nine more sections to do in order to complete your assessment questionnaire. Finish those, and I’ll make a note—right here in your chart—that you’re interested in acquiring the full list of Socratic statements. Okay? That way, when you come in for your assessment with the doctor, she might be able to help you with that.”
    “I thought this
was
my assessment?”
    “This is just the preliminary,” said the man, as if Mason was qualifying for the Olympics. “Go ahead and finish them up.”
    The rest of the sections were what he’d come to expect—lists of redundant questions regarding alcohol consumption and drug use:
How much per day / per week / per month?
How much alone / with friends / in bars?
From mason jars / in the backs of cars?
In a little how town / with up so floating / many bells down?
    Then those old chestnuts, regarding the effects of such use:
I have missed work or a work-related deadline.
I have fought with friends or family members.
I have experienced anxiety or memory loss.
I have locked myself out, wearing red monkey underwear.
       I Agree. Strongly Agree. Disagree. Strongly Disagree … On and on, till the nameless man said he was done.

22
    Sissy thought for a while, then finally said, “I used to like horses.”
    This was in response to Mason asking her to tell him about herself.
    “I read all sorts of stories about girls and their horses, and boys and their horses, when I was a kid. Do you remember that scene in
The Black Stallion
, at the beginning, when the black stallion is in the ship and they’re being so awful to him? All I dreamed about was having a horse like that to save. Are you even listening?”
    “Yes …,” said Mason. His skin felt itchy, like there were flies on his neck. He, too, had once liked horses.
    “So have you seen that movie or not?”
    “I have.” They were quiet. Then Mason said, “How about
The Man from Snowy River?”
    “I haven’t seen