“Got it, Dad.” Sticking my tongue out as far as it would go, as if I needed him to place a pill directly into my mouth, I hoped to drive home the point that, nice or not, he was still treating me like a total baby.
“Sage, come on. Will you stop it? You’re being rude.”
I held the pose, glaring directly at him, unblinking.
“Please?” he asked softly.
His lightened tone made me feel somewhat bad. Straightening up, I placed my tongue back inside my mouth and offered my hand instead, compliantly reaching for that teeny peppermint green-colored pill. But then I placed it in my mouth and deftly used my tongue to push the pill up and between the underside of my upper lip and gum line. I feigned swallowing, opened my mouth back up, and stuck my tongue out once again.
“Wiggle,” he said.
I wiggled my tongue up and down, back and forth, hoping that the little green monster wouldn’t slip out and reveal itself from its hiding spot. Seemingly satisfied, the tension in Dad’s shoulders noticeably disappeared, and he responded by giving me a go-ahead nod, signaling that it was okay to leave.
“I love you, honey,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to give you a tough time.”
Admittedly, I felt a twinge of guilt about deceiving him, but I hated being on the stuff, and I was sick and tired of everyone trying to control me.
I shrugged.
“Hey, look at me.”
“Yeah?”
“Happy Birthday, Sage.”
Not uttering another word, I hugged Dad before heading out the door.
As soon as I left the apartment, I spit the pill—which had morphed into a dissolving glob of pharmaceutical saliva—into the palm of my hand. I would have to get creative somehow. Usually in the morning during breakfast, I’d wait for Dad to turn his back or get caught up with something work-related before spitting it out and down the sink. When I was desperate, I’d run into my bedroom and chuck it into an old metal breath mint container hidden under my bed. Running to the bathroom immediately after taking it would arouse Dad’s suspicions, and something about throwing pills out in the garbage just seemed like a bad idea. Even if he or Sheila missed spotting it outright, I didn’t like the idea of a squirrel or stray cat accidentally finding and ingesting one while rummaging through trash bags on the street.
Cutting around the corner, I realized my options were pretty limited. So, I shoved the pill into my back pocket, planning to dispose of it once I made it to my group therapy session at the Bellehope Center. Deciding against taking a cab, I headed straight for the subway station. The L was a quick ride to Union Square, so why waste perfectly good money on a car? Besides, everyone knew the subway was safe for the most part. Dad’s whole crazy idea that I needed to take a cab everywhere was seriously helicopter of him—he must have gotten that one from Abby. Anyway, unused cab fare always translated into more pocket cash for me, and I was itching for a slice of BBQ chicken pizza.
I quickly looked over both shoulders and made sure no one was watching me. Then I made my way down to Lorimer Street.
*
“I couldn’t even find it within myself to ask her, but I just knew she was disappointed in me. She gets this look of utter… disgust in her eyes, and it’s like I know.”
I tapped my finger against the side of my thigh to the rhythm of this song I just couldn’t get out of my head, eyes cast downward, trying my best not to look like I had utterly mentally checked out as Casey—possibly the most annoying member at group therapy—droned on and on about her family drama. It was like the tenth time since I started coming to the Bellehope Center that I’d had to listen to this girl wail and whine about all the many ways her mom and sister made her already pathetic life even more miserable.
The only thing even more tragic was how Dr. Shaw, my third shrink that year, feigned empathy and nodded her head, repeatedly, as Casey (or anyone in the group, really) blabbered and wept over the insignificant troubles adversely affecting their mundane lives. It was as if the all-star Alpha cast from the Pines had raided the place—not the kids who were actually messed up and desperately needed help, but the ones who created unending drama and got themselves locked up for the sole purpose of seeking attention from parents who were too self-absorbed and emotionally unavailable to care. Somehow, with this crew, whining and downing mood stabilizers had become more of a rite of passage than scoring a learner’s permit.
“And how did that make you feel, Casey?” Shaw asked.
How do you feel? Who could have seen that question coming? I stifled a yawn, continuing to tune out the conversation. I couldn’t get that song out of my head. Not that it was necessarily catchy, but something about it was almost hypnotic as it played over and over in my mind. It wasn’t long before I found myself drifting away again, slipping into that soothingly deep haze that freed me.
Only this time, it didn’t last very long. I started to feel very twitchy—like some nagging sense of impulsivity had suddenly washed over me, and I couldn’t take it. It was an unshakeable irritability that doggedly persisted, nipping away at my consciousness, and at that moment, everything just bothered me. If I had to sit still in that chair for another second, I’d completely flip on everyone in the room. I just knew it. And that song… it seemed to grow louder and louder, gaining momentum inside my head. Becoming increasingly fidgety, I literally placed my hands under my bottom, physically sitting on top of them in a feeble attempt to keep myself under wraps.
My eyes darted throughout the circle, studying the faces all around me. No one seemed to notice or care that I was watching them or squirming obviously in my seat; their full attention was wholly invested in Casey’s sob story. My one friend within the group, Farrah, looked directly at me. And then, crossing her eyes, she silently feigned gagging as if getting ready to puke all over the floor. I immediately burst into laughter. Of course, that drew everyone’s attention in my direction.
“Sage?”
Crap. I hated whenever Dr. Shaw addressed me. As far I was concerned, the goal was to get in and out of that place without being noticed.
“Yes?” I asked, innocently.
Shaw cleared her throat, and then inspected my face from over her wire-rimmed glasses, her eyes saturated with blatant disapproval.
I sat quietly for a moment, blinked, then tried again.
“Can I help you with some—”
“She’s doing it again!” Casey accused as she pointed her finger directly at me. Apparently, it didn’t take much to jam a bee in this one’s bonnet.
“What did I do?” I asked, feigning surprise. Of course, I knew exactly what I had done. But it wasn’t on purpose. Farrah had just looked really funny in the moment, and I hadn’t been expecting it. So what if I laughed a little bit too loudly? Big whoop.
“This is supposed to be a safe space,” interjected Bennett, a kid with one of those modern mop-top haircuts that only preppy guys from the suburbs could get away with. “You’re making it pretty obvious that you could care less about what Casey has to say, and it’s not cool.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, my voice reaching a slightly higher octave. Who did this kid think he was, and who asked for his input?
“I said this is a safe space. You’re violating our group social contract by making it fairly obvious that you’re not taking Casey seriously or valuing her words,” Bennett explained.
The music pounded louder, and I felt my face burn bright red. Releasing my shaking hands from underneath me, I clasped them together tightly and held them securely against my lap. I blinked hard again. “I heard what you said,” I snapped. “I didn’t mean, ‘Excuse me? Please repeat that because I didn’t hear you.’ I was making a point that what you just said was completely asinine.”
Bennett’s jaw practically collapsed in front of him. A few moments passed before he regained his composure. “Dr. Shaw, did you just hear that?” he then asked incredulously.
My right foot thumped furiously against the floor.
At this point, my hands were so tightly clenched together that I could feel my nails dig and peel through flesh.
“So what? Are you afraid you might end up attending a liberal arts college instead? Which, I might add, costs more than the average American makes per year. Or, heaven forbid, a state school!” I exclaimed in mock horror.
Somewhere between the words American and state school, I found myself standing smack in the middle of the circle, arms flailing wildly about. “THAT’S NOT A TRAGEDY, PEOPLE!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. It was an overreaction, but I didn’t care.
“Sage, that is enough,” Shaw warned me.
But I couldn’t stop myself. “I, for one, find it more concerning that Bennett and his friends look and sound almost… exactly alike.” I glared at Bennett. “It’s like you’re just clones of one another, with your checkered pattern shirts and salmon-colored pants. That’s far more disturbing than any one of the alleged ‘problems’ you’ve shared at these stupid meetings!”
“Sage, that is enough,” Shaw warned me again.
It was too late. By that point, I was far beyond a simple outburst.
“And then there’s you,” I spun around, refocusing my attention on Casey. “Here’s an update. Your mom does not like you—and she will never like you—for whatever crazy reason she’s created in her psycho head because she’s crazy herself. Sometimes the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and your whole family is just nuts. Plain and simple.”
I stopped myself momentarily, realizing I was mixing up my analogies with all the references to apples and nuts, but I quickly regained momentum. “And no one has enough insight to change! So, you’re all just going to drive each other crazy until the bitter, bitter end—”
“Sage, that is enough,” Shaw repeated more forcefully.
“And, furthermore, if your mom is constantly comparing you to your sister, and favors your sister, it’s probably because, unlike you, your sister doesn’t completely fail at life. If you were my daughter, I’d probably lose it with all your annoying, entitled whining, too. Oh, wait. Did I invade your safe space?”
“SHUT UP!” Fully enraged, Casey flew to her feet, completely ready to rip into me. Absolutely fuming, her eyes practically bulged out of their sockets as she looked ready to flip over every single chair and table in the center. For whatever reason, Casey’s sister was a real trigger. Although it seemed to shock everyone else, Casey’s reaction was entirely predictable, really.
Seeing that I had successfully pushed the right buttons, I edged further. “Shut up?” I asked sweetly. “Now why would you say that? Those are trigger words.”
Not once losing her composure, Shaw slowly rose from her chair and held out her hands cautiously toward me as she steadily approached. “Sage… I can recognize that you’re upset, and your feelings are legitimate, but it is not okay to verbally demean your peers in this manner. That should go without saying.”
“Dr. Shaw, I think you’re mistaken. If it went without saying, you wouldn’t actually have to say it,” I shot back.
Dr. Shaw remained prim and tight-lipped, and though she presented outwardly as collected, I could tell she was scouring her brain furiously for something clever but neutralizing to say. I blinked hard again. Then, opening my eyes, I felt this rush flood throughout my mind. I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of euphoric satisfaction. Except for Farrah, everyone stared at me in plain horror. Some mouths hung wordlessly ajar. Others twitched, as if on the verge of tears. Casey had sunken back into her chair, sobbing quietly into the palms of her hands, and Bennett looked like he was good and ready to punch me in the face. I felt powerful for the first time in a very long time. I just ached to tip the scale a bit further and send Shaw spiraling out of control herself.
But something told me Shaw had been down this road plenty of times before. Exhibiting nothing less than completely professional poise, she gently continued, “Sage, is there is something important that you would like to share? This is… out of character for you.”
It wasn’t out of character. I rarely spoke in group therapy, if at all. No one there knew a single thing about my alleged character and what I was and wasn’t capable of. But Dr. Shaw’s voice remained calm, collected—determined not to let me win.
I quickly look at Farrah, hoping to discern what my next steps should be. Should I back down? Press further? Give up and cry? But Farrah just rolled her eyes and shrugged.
“She’s doing it, too! Farrah just rolled her eyes,” tattled a small voice from within the circle, but I was too caught up in my own thoughts and didn’t recognize who it was.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Farrah dismissed.
Determined to corral us all back into the pen, Dr. Shaw continued. “Part of our social contract in this group is to be mindful of our thoughts, words, and actions. We should never underestimate the power of our words, and some of your words were quite hurtful just now, Sage. This makes me wonder if perhaps you’re hurting inside. Moreover, your peers, well,” she made a wide circular motion with her arm, gesturing to the other members of the group, “are trying to send you a very clear message—”
“Well, they’re being stupid!” I spat. I felt myself gaze off to the side, that fuzzy feeling settling in once again. All I wanted at that moment was to melt right into it—disappear.
“Those are trigger words, Sage,” Shaw’s voice rose a little more noticeable this time. “We do not tolerate that here.”
I snapped back to reality. “Stupid is not a trigger word,” I argued heatedly, “because if you’re stupid enough to be offended by the word stupid, then you deserve to be called out for being stupid.”
“I will not allow this,” Dr. Shaw argued. “Not in here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave the circle for a bit and cool down in our calming area. Or perhaps you’d like to go for some fresh air in the courtyard; we can discuss this further at another time when you’re ready,” she suggested. “No one is forcing you to stay here, Sage. No one is forcing you to share at meetings if doing so makes you feel uncomfortable. But we cannot allow this… destructive behavior to threaten the overall morale of our group and the progress we’re trying to make.”
I had to hand it to Shaw. Most grown-ups I knew would have just screamed their heads off at me by that point, but not her. Granted, it wasn’t as if I flew completely off the handle, and she was dealing with the ranting and ravings of a total lunatic. So what if I butted heads with a few kids? It wasn’t that big of a deal, and it wasn’t my fault that, because of a few flippant comments, a few precious snowflakes melted. Still, I was tempted to tap the line with my foot just a wee bit further and see just how much I could get away with. Everyone has a trigger. I just hadn’t discovered hers yet.
“Dr. Shaw, isn’t it your job to have this all under control?” I asked candidly. “And yet, it looks to me like things here are falling apart—under your watch. It’s obvious that no one in this group respects your judgment or opinion unless you completely coddle them with your half-baked psych tactics that any of us could have learned just by watching a few crime dramas on TV.” I sighed dramatically. “Oh, well. My father already paid your fee for the week, so it’s safe to say that I’m done here.”
Shaw shook her head from side to side. “Very well then,” she replied. “Like we’ve said many times before, no one can force you to do anything that you don’t wish to. You have to want to change.”
“You’re not fooling anybody,” Casey spoke up unexpectedly, her voice was oddly serene and barely above a whisper. “You’re just as scared as any of us in this room, Sage.”
“Just ignore her, Casey. Don’t even bother,” Isabel, a girl
who hardly ever spoke a word to anyone, said calmly. “Sage is just looking for attention. Again.”
“You know what?” I wasn’t about to let them tell me who I was or how I felt. “I don’t need this. You don’t know me.” I addressed the entire group, “None of you do.”
“Perhaps that’s because you won’t allow us the chance to get to know you,” Dr. Shaw quietly suggested.
“Whatever—”
“You can’t just ‘whatever’ your way out of discomfort,” Isabel interrupted me. “That’s completely weak and cowardly, and you know it, Sage. You say all this outrageous stuff about us or life in general,” Isabel paused and gazed softly to the side like she was really thinking hard about how she’d phrase her next words, “but I think you’re afraid… that what you’re saying about us actually applies to you.”
It was a clear and effective direct hit. My eyes widened as I stood there for a few moments, frozen, unsure of what direction to go in next. No, I didn’t let them in—because I didn’t want to. Who were they to tell me what my problems were? How could any of them even begin to understand what it felt like to be me: to wake up some mornings and not feel anything at all, only to have other days when it seemed like I felt too much. None of them knew what it felt like to want my very soul to curl up and wither away inside my own body, disappearing forever. I didn’t understand me, so how could any of them ever even try? No one ever would.
Without saying another word, I sadly slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out the door.
Chapter 13
Compulsion
Sage
Bumming around the Village on my own didn’t seem to help much, as I found myself gravitating back and forth between full-on depression and ever-consuming anxiety. A little over a half-hour had passed when I found myself wandering down St. Mark’s Place, my usual go-to haven for whenever I was feeling down and out. But instead of fully immersing myself in its absolute wonder—an eclectic array of iconic apartment buildings, vintage shops, and the unique kaleidoscope of people who breathed life into what would otherwise seem like the ordinary hardened gray of pavement and concrete—I remained firmly planted within the confines of my own self-created cerebral world.
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