Page 14 of Broken Dream (Steel Legends #3)

Chapter Thirteen

Angie

After coffee with Tabitha and Eli, I decline their invitation to lunch and head back to my place to make a quick sandwich and let Tillie out. Then I return to campus for my afternoon classes.

My last class of the day is Introduction to Psychiatry. It’s a required course, but I’ve heard that most students save it for their third or fourth year. I’m excited to begin. Today is the first day of the class.

The professor is an older man, Dr. Carlos Engel, and when I see him, I’m disappointed. I fear he’ll be some dud who simply drones on and on in a monotonous voice.

But I’m delightfully wrong.

“Good afternoon,” Dr. Engel says.

His voice is deep and resonant. It reminds me of the sound of the cello at Dave and Maddie’s quadruple wedding last fall. Dr. Engel has an accent that I can’t quite place—his first name is Spanish, and his last name is German; Engel means angel—but it’s smooth and rhythmic.

“Welcome to Introduction to Psychiatry,” he continues, his eyes twinkling behind thick-rimmed glasses. “I promise you that this is not going to be what you were expecting.”

He dives into a lecture about the human psyche. It’s mesmerizing and vastly different from any psychology class I’ve attended before.

“You’re here because you’ve chosen—or at least have been nudged—to explore one of the most fascinating, complex, and deeply human branches of medicine.

” He smiles at us. “Psychiatry doesn’t deal in broken bones or malfunctioning organs.

It deals in the architecture of the mind, the delicate balance of emotions, and the profound mystery of human behavior. ”

He turns to the board and writes the words What makes us human?

He turns back to the class. “A deceptively simple question. What separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom? Is it our biology—our brains, our neurotransmitters, our DNA? Or is it something more abstract—our relationships, our experiences, the stories we tell ourselves? Psychiatry stands at the intersection of these questions, straddling the tangible and the intangible.”

I look around the class. Most of the people were not paying attention at first, but Dr. Engel seems to have all eyes and ears on him now.

“We’ll talk about brain chemistry, yes. You’ll learn about dopamine, serotonin, and the mechanisms behind disorders like depression and schizophrenia.

But you’ll also learn to listen—truly listen—to the stories of people in pain.

Because psychiatry isn’t just about diagnosing and treating.

It’s about understanding . And understanding doesn’t come from a lab test or an MRI. It comes from empathy.”

That’s it. This is why I want to go into this branch of medicine. To do what my aunt has been doing for years. To help people in ways that physical medicine can’t. People who have been through the worst possible things.

Ralph’s opinions be damned. This is just as important as being a surgeon. Maybe even more important.

“As we embark on this journey, you’ll encounter things that might challenge your beliefs and make you uncomfortable.

You’ll meet patients whose struggles are hard to comprehend.

You’ll study disorders that defy neat categorization.

And you’ll realize that psychiatry is not about fixing people—it’s about helping them find balance and hope in their own unique way. ”

Dr. Engel picks up a piece of chalk and writes two more words on the board.

Mind and Heart .

He turns back to the class, a faint smile on his face.

“These are your tools. Use them wisely.”

I look around. No one from my anatomy lab is present. It’s a shame. Dr. Engel’s words are inspiring.

“We’ll dive into a more detailed lecture tomorrow,” Dr Engel says. “So I won’t keep you much longer today. But I do want to ask one thing.” He scans the class. “Are any of you planning to focus on psychiatry?”

I raise my hand.

And it’s the only hand in the room.

Unreal.

Dr. Engel meets my gaze and nods. “Good. Excellent,” he says. “May I ask your name?”

“Angie Simpson, sir.”

“Thank you, Ms. Simpson.” He looks back at the class. “I know most of you are here because it’s a required course. You might think psychiatry is a lesser science, akin to reading tarot cards or telling fortunes.”

I hold back a smile. My cousin Ava loves tarot cards, and sometimes they’ve actually helped her look at her problems in a different light.

“But do not doubt that psychiatrists have one of the most challenging jobs in the medical field. We are entrusted with people’s minds, their secrets, their fears, their dreams. It is not a responsibility to be taken lightly.

” But then he chuckles softly. “But don’t worry.

The field also offers some of the greatest rewards. ”

I can’t help but smile back at him. The other students begin to pack their bags, getting ready to leave, but I stay seated.

As the room empties, Dr. Engel walks to my chair. “Angie,” he begins, “why psychiatry?”

I’m touched that he remembers my name. “My aunt is a renowned psychiatrist. I’ve been following her journey since before I can remember. She’s always been there for me, and that’s how I got interested.”

“And your aunt is…?”

“Dr. Melanie Carmichael Steel,” I say.

He raises his eyebrows. “Dr. Steel, yes. A brilliant mind. I’ve read all her work. Her focus was childhood trauma.”

“That’s the one. She’s amazing. She’s been a great mentor to me.”

“What else about psychiatry is calling to you?” he asks.

I smile at him. “I believe that the mind is the most complex and fascinating thing about us as humans. I want to understand it better and perhaps help others understand theirs.”

He nods. “A noble pursuit. And it starts with an understanding of oneself.”

With that, he gathers his notes. With a last encouraging smile, he heads out of the room. I am left alone, feeling both exhilarated and daunted by the journey ahead.

An understanding of oneself.

I understand myself just fine.

Don’t I?

Back at my townhome, I can’t stop thinking about Dr. Engel’s words.

It starts with an understanding of oneself.

I’m a little freaked out.

I know just the person to call.

“Hello, Angie,” Aunt Melanie says through my phone.

“Hi, Aunt Mel,” I say. “How is Uncle Joe doing?”

Aunt Melanie’s husband, my uncle Jonah, is going through experimental treatment for brain cancer.

“He’s fatigued, as usual, but his physicians say he’s doing better than expected.”

“That’s good to hear. Tell him I think about him every day.”

“He knows that, Angie. It’s a rough road, but he has more strength than anyone I know.” She sighs, but there’s a contentedness to it. “How are you doing at school?”

“Good. I had my first psychiatry class today, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“How exciting! I know medical school is just beginning for you, and you only have one semester under your belt, but I remember my first psychiatry class. I hadn’t actually decided that I wanted to pursue the discipline until I took that class.”

“Oh? I can’t believe I’ve never talked to you about this before. I guess I just always assumed psychiatry was your calling.”

“Actually, when I went to med school, I was hoping to be a surgeon.”

My jaw drops. Aunt Melanie is one of the greatest psychiatrists in the whole country.

She’s helped so many people, and she’s written several books as well.

She helped my own family members, and now she’s working with my cousin Diana’s husband’s sister and her daughter, who have been through something horrific.

She’s supposed to be retired, but she keeps coming out of retirement when amazing cases come her way. She can’t turn her back on a person in need.

“Surgery?” I ask.

“Oh, yes. I was convinced that was what I really wanted to do. Until I had to slice open a cadaver for the first time.”

I can’t help a gasp. “Oh my God, I feel the same way. We were supposed to do our first cut today in anatomy lab, but the professor canceled the class.”

“Oh really? Why?”

“He didn’t give a reason. It was probably something personal. You know, things come up.”

I haven’t even thought about why Jason canceled class. I hope everything is okay. There’s a little edge of darkness to him, and I can’t help but wonder if something is up.

“They do. But is that a little bit of disappointment in your voice?”

I don’t know how she does it. No wonder Aunt Melanie is such a great psychiatrist. She can sense even the slightest bit of emotion, even through the phone.

“What do you mean?” I ask, feigning innocence.

“You say you weren’t looking forward to cutting your cadaver, yet you sounded a little bit disappointed that lab was canceled.”

“I was relieved, actually.”

“Okay, Angie. I won’t push you. But I’m glad you enjoyed your psychiatry class.”

“Yes. When I first saw the professor, I thought he was going to be old and stodgy, but he was actually brilliant. He gave this amazing introductory lecture. Even the people who have no interest in psychiatry were kind of captivated. And he knows you. His name is Dr. Carlos Engel.”

“Oh, yes. Carlos. He’s excellent. I didn’t realize he was teaching.”

“He is. And I’m really looking forward to his class.”

“I believe he’s written a few books. His specialty is the trauma of loss.”

“You mean people who lose something they love?”

“Some one they love, Angie. Widows and widowers. Parents who have lost a child. Anyone who’s lost someone they love. That’s what Carlos excels at.”

I pause. “He said something when I spoke to him after class.”

“What was that?”

“He said that psychiatry starts with an understanding of oneself.”

“He’s right, of course.”

“I guess I never thought of it that way. I mean, I think I understand myself just fine. But I’ve never been through any trauma, really. Not like some of the people in our family have.”

“True. And be thankful for that.”

“I am.”