“Since the ducks left, I guess.”
“The ducks that preceded your losing consciousness—let’s talk about them.”
But eventually he comes back. Therapy is beginning to intrigue him. She is beginning to intrigue him. Over time, under Melfi’s gentle but steely gaze, he admits that he has felt depressed since the ducks that were making a home in his swimming pool flew away. The ducks enthrall Tony as nothing in his life has done for some time. When they left, he lost consciousness. Ducks equal loss. Loss spells depression. The ducks are a clue.
After taking the Prozac, Tony starts to improve, and his wife, Carmela, notices he’s in better spirits. He’s smug, thinks he’s cured, figures they should wrap things up.
“It’s not the medication,” says Melfi. “Prozac takes several weeks to build up effective levels in the blood.”
“Well, what is it then?”
“Coming here. Talking. Hope comes in many forms.”
“Well, who’s got time for that?” he snaps.
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