Many years ago, when I was working as a psychologist at a children’s institution in England, an adolescent boy showed up in the waiting room．I went out there where he was walking up and down restlessly．I showed him into my office and pointed to the chair on the other side of my desk．“Please sit down,” I said．
David wore a black rain coat that was buttoned all the way up to his neck．His face was pale, and he stared at his feet while crossing his hands nervously．He had lost his father as a baby, and had lived together with his mother and grandfather since．But the year before David turned 13, his grandfather died and his mother was killed in a car accident. Now he was 14．
I looked at David．How could I help him? There are human tragedies that psychology doesn’t have the answer to, and which no words can describe．Sometimes the best thing one can do is to listen openly and sympathetically．
The first two times we met, David didn’t say a word．He sat in the chair and only looked up to look at the children’s drawings on the wall behind me．As he was about to leave after the second visit, I put my hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t look at me either．“Come back next week, if you like,” I said, I hesitated a bit．Then I said, “I know it hurts.”
He came, and I suggested we play a game of chess．He nodded．After that we played chess every Wednesday afternoon- in complete silence and without making any eye con-tact．It seemed as if he enjoyed my company．But why did he never look at me?
Some months later, I sat starring at David’s head, while he bent over the chessboard．I thought about how little we know about therapy(治疗)—about the mysterious process associated with healing．Suddenly, he looked up at me．“It’s your turn,” he said．
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After that day, David started talking．
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Finally, he needn’t come to me for therapy．
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