Yes, Yes, Yes

A tense, well executed, and haunting story. It’s sharply written, surprising, and full of rich detail. The title, when its meaning dawns on you, adds to the chill. Exceptional work.

— Rhett Davis

Sinking into the worn leather recliner, I stared at the scuff mark on my shoe, too weak to wipe it off. The smell of lavender filled my nostrils as Dr Shi entered, clipboard in hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” She looked at the crisp pile of pamphlets on the ottoman. “Did you have enough time to think things through?”

The top pamphlet caught the warm light, showing a frail man lying in bed, surrounded by figures who were airbrushed into anonymity. I glanced at my mobility frame in the corner. “Plenty,” I replied.

“Most people don’t attend these appointments alone. Have you discussed this with anyone?”

“My Uber driver?”

Dr Shi stared impassively, her fountain pen poised over her pad. I presumed she was going to write that I was still in the anger phase of grief. Or that I was incapable of giving informed consent.

“I mean family or friends,” she said. “People who care about you.”

Fearing another joke might lead to me failing my assessment, I gave an awkward smile. People who cared about me? My friends had all moved on years ago. Mum had died and Dad had moved to Queensland, apparently to be closer to his sister and the sun.

Dr Shi leaned forward, giving a polite smile. “In my experience, talking with family can help with these tough decisions.”

I resisted the urge to mention my cat, Wilbur.

“Sorry to pry,” she cleared her throat, “but have you spoken to your sister since her arrest?”

“No.” I folded my arms to hide the trembling – illness or emotion, I couldn’t tell anymore. Dr Shi waited. “I stopped answering her lawyers’ calls, too.”

“I see,” she said as she shifted in her seat. “I know we’ve discussed this at length, but I’m required to ask one last time before signing this form.” She paused. “Can you tell me, clearly, that you want to end your life?”