Illusion

by Ashley Beale

  "We postponed the wedding, rented a cheap apartment, and did a bunch of things to save money so we could adopt. When it wasn't enough, he joined the military. He wanted desperately to have a baby. And in the end, it killed him."

  "So he died fighting for something he wanted. You were willing to do anything for him and he did anything he could for you. You both loved each other that much. You both suffered because of it, but that is the way of life. And I'm so damn sorry you went through that Zoey, I honestly am. You didn't deserve that, neither did he. But don't you dare blame yourself for anything happened. He didn't just want a baby, don't you see that? He wanted yours, because he loved you that much. Even with what you consider flaws, he loved you."

  Tears continue falling but I can't tell if they're happy tears or sad ones. What is it about Brice that causes me to cry so easily? It's everything about him. His words, his actions, everything. He makes me feel so... alive. Like I’ve finally woken up from a hazy dream.

  "Thank you," I say after a minute.

  His forehead creases as he continues to look at me. "I just want you to see things in a different way. I want you to love yourself, Zoey. I want you to forgive yourself and to move on."

  "I will in time. I've been doing a lot better at moving on recently."

  "Because of Harvey," he claims.

  "Among other things."

  He just nods his head. "Ready for dinner?"

  Surprisingly I laugh. "Yeah, I'm ready." And I am, finally.

  Honestly, that conversation with Brice is one of the best conversations I've had in a long time. It was the exact conversation I needed to have since Kirt's passing. Somehow with it being with Brice made it all the better.

  Before we walk through the restaurant doors I stop him. "Wait," I tell him.

  He pauses and tilts his head. "What?"

  "I want a picture of you." He smiles at me, knowing exactly why. I pull out my phone, snap a picture, then I send it to Emi, asking her if this is a picture of a real person.

  She sends me back a text quickly, saying that indeed it's a real person, a hot and sexy person. I laugh at her response and feel so much weight lifted off my shoulders. Even if it is just momentarily, it's nice.

  This is one of the most awkward moments of my life. Yes, I've talked to a handful of people about everything I've been through, I've opened up and explained the horrible events of my life, but for some reason, it's different with him. I don't feel like being open and honest, I feel like hiding in a closet and never coming back out.

  I'm sure it has something to do with the fact I'm being judged hard core. Not that I'm the only one who comes in here and talks about possibly being crazy. But this is me. This isn't supposed to be my reality. This was all supposed to have been a dream I had already woken up from. Maybe Brice has no idea what he is talking about. I just moderately believed him because it was easier than thinking that Harvey used me and had no feelings for me at all- and took off without a word. He vanished completely.

  I've even tried looking up his dad's information in Maine when I realized, I have no idea what Harvey's last name is. How could I have been so stupid and blind? And why, now, after all that, would my so called visions disappear? I guess that is why I'm here, with Dr. Ross, laying on his couch while he stares at me, pen in hand. What am I supposed to say first?

  He asked me a few things about myself and I gave him clipped answers. He isn't a therapist per say, but he does have a degree in Psychology according to the framed certificate on the wall. All I can think though, is what if I am crazy and he sends me away? I don't want to be in a psychiatric hospital. I don't believe I really am crazy. It was my medication, so Brice claims. Still, who is to say that this fella sitting in his fancy leather chair with an expensive taste in clothing and style won't send me away. Maybe he gets paid to send people off. It wouldn't surprise me. I mean, holy crap he has expensive taste.

  Everything in the room is a dark cherry wood or black leather. He has certificates all over his walls, picture frames of him and a gorgeous girl, who I assume must be his trophy wife. His shoes are Italian leather, and his pen is one of those ones you spend like ten dollars on then have to buy refills every few months. He has the best of the best of everything and it's a little annoying. I don't want a doctor who is cocky and arrogant and steals all my money, I want one that will cure me.

  Then again, he can't quite cure me if I don't open up.

  Then again, who says I actually need curing? There is no proof what Brice claims is true.

  Just because all signs point to yes. I just can't believe I could have dreamt all that.

  "Ms. LaRoche, are you still with me?"

  Great, the last thing I need is for him to think I have even more issues.

  I sigh before answering. "Yes, I'm still here Dr. Ross."

  "Then can you please answer the last few questions I have for you?"

  I tilt my head so I can face him again, instead of looking at all his many achievements. "Of course."

  He adjusts himself in the chair, causing him to sit a little straighter. He places down the clipboard with attached paper, as well as the pen, and looks me square in the eye. "Your sister said she believes your medicine was causing you to have hallucinations. So instead of me asking you random questions, let's talk about that. If it makes you more comfortable, I can ask a few questions and have you answer, or you can ask me questions and I can do my best to answer, or we can just have a conversation. I don't have to write down things if that makes you more comfortable, but I do ask that I at least record everything we say so I can add them to my notes later. I want to help you the best I can, but I can't do that without as much information as possible."

  "Fine," I answer.

  "Which suggestion is fine?"

  "I guess you ask questions and I answer, but I'd rather you take notes then record my voice."

  He does a curt nod before grabbing his pen and clipboard. "When did you start taking this medication?"

  "Approximately thirteen weeks ago."

  He nods and scribbles that down. "Have you ever been on other medications before that?"

  "Not for depression or anxiety, although I have a prescription for sleeping pills. I had cervical cancer a few years back, and got a partial hysterectomy, so I've been on my fair share of medications, but mostly for pain and stuff."

  He tilts his head and watches me speak, seeming to be completely interested in my traumatic life story. "How long ago did you finish any of those medications?"

  We continue the small talk about the past few years, and I finally open a little more and start to tell him more about Kirt, feeling more comfortable with him than I had earlier. It may just be a scheme of his, but he seems truly interested in helping me heal from everything I've been through and to get to the bottom of everything I'm going through now.

  It gets a little harder to speak when the questions start on Harvey. The more questions I answer, the more it does seem like I just made him up from somewhere. I tell him he looked a lot like Kirt, how he was always forgiving, he knew when to show up at my apartment, how I had never been to his, how I didn't even know his last name or much about his life.

  After setting down the clipboard again, he folds his hands over his lap and leans forward. "None of this had you questioning there was something off about the situation?"

  "I guess not," I shrug. "I just didn't think twice about it, really."

  With a deep sigh he gets a very serious look on his face. "You're a beautiful young lady, so I'm saying this not just as a doctor, but as a concerned person, Zoey. You let this guy into your life, not knowing much about him but telling him everything about yourself. You said where you were from, you brought him into your apartment, you told him about your past, and you ignored all the warning signs that he never shared those things with you. A big red light is flashing here. You may not have noticed it, but if you're going to date people, you should. Those are signs of someone who is lying about himself. Sometimes pe
ople lie because they have a family or past they like to stay hidden, or sometimes they have a mental illness. Although I don't believe that to be true, it's still a great possibility, and before bringing a man into your home and life, you should be introduced to people in his life. You need to protect yourself, and even your family and friends. It's a sick, cruel world out there."

  Wow, I never thought of that before. It just didn't occur to me. I was so trusting of Harvey, right from the beginning. It never occurred to me why he so happened to be in the cafe that next morning after seeing him on the subway, or that he seemed to always be so perfect- too perfect- about everything. I always looked beyond it all.

  "I'm sorry that upsets you, I just am looking out for your best interest and safety."

  "No, it doesn't upset me. Thank you. It opened me up to possibilities I just didn't think of."

  He nods his head and leans back again, grabbing his clipboard once more and reading over his notes.

  "Now, all that may be true, but," he shrugs his shoulders, "there are other possibilities too."

  "Like me making him up?"

  His eyes meet mine. "Did you make him up?"

  I don't like the way he accuses me of something like that. I snap at him then feel completely dreadful afterward. "No!"

  "Didn't think so. Do you understand what hallucinations are exactly?"

  "You see things that aren't there, sometimes you hear them. Your eyes deceive you and sometimes your brain believes you, sometimes it understands what is going on but not always." That is the best I got.

  He looks surprised by my answer. "You're right for the most part. In many cases your brain does know, sometimes only subconsciously though. Deep down you know the truth but you don't want to believe it, so it doesn't occur to you until you're forced to face the reality of the situation. Most times they can be convincingly realistic though. They're produced by the same neural pathways as tangible observation."

  "I have no idea what that means," I admit.

  He smiles at me and seems to understand. "Just let me explain a few things, then you can ask me any questions you have or you can name any concerns you may find. Deal?"

  "Deal," I tell him, relaxing a little more into the leather sofa.

  "In your case, I'd say you probably had something similar to Bereavement Hallucinations, just in a different form. See, Bereavement Hallucinations are when you see the face or hear the voice of someone that is deceased. It's very common among a lot of people, more than you'd realize. It's a very important part in the mourning process and can sometimes last for a few years, but usually ending in the first year or two after the death of a loved one. In some cases they're strong illusions, sometimes not so much.

  "You admitted, multiple times, that things Harvey said, did, or even how he looked, was in much similarity to Kirt. Correct?" I nod, answering him silently. "So hypothetically speaking, you're not seeing Kirt, but a version of him your brain has conjured. Bereavement Hallucinations frequently occur when they are most needed. You moved to a different state, got on medications, took a huge step in living alone in a strange city, and you told yourself you finally wanted to heal. Let me know if I'm off on my information or if I'm correct."

  "You're correct." My voice is lined with a lot of emotion as everything he says both comforts me and scares the living shit out of me.

  "If I were to give you a medical term for your illusions, if that’s what this all is, I would probably go ahead and call it Delirium. Sometimes people call this Acute Confusional State. It's a form of the Bereavement Hallucinations, it can also coincide with many other similar diseases, side effects, mourning situations, and so on. It's a condition that can develop rapid onset. It can also fluctuate in intensity, and it presents severe misperception inside your mind. Most often people think of the elderly, or aging, with Delirium, but it can actually happen at any age and for many different reasons. Have I lost you completely or do you understand what I'm saying so far?"

  "I get most of it, some of it kind of goes in one ear and out the other, but I seem to get the gist. I can see me envisioning him, even talking to him, but what I just have an issue with, is the fact I touched him. I kissed him. I uh, even had... sex with him." That part is really hard to admit. "I felt it all."

  He continues to give me an understanding look and when he notices I'm finished he sighs. The sound makes it known he feels extremely sorry for me. I don't want him to feel sorry for me, I just want him to help me. Heal me. Give me advice. Push me in the right direction. Although what everything he says terrifies me completely, it's also helping me understand things I didn't think were quite possible.

  "There are a series of different kind of hallucinations. Sometimes they're visual, sometimes auditory, sometimes tactile, and other times it's a mixture of all. There are also perceptive deficits, which would be a side effect of your medication mixed with your mourning and need for moving on from Kirt. That can actually cause changes in arousal, alter your sleep-wake cycle, and of course the obvious, give you psychotic features such as hallucinations."

  Psychotic features. Of course those two words stick out of that explanation the most. It's the two words that seem to make the most sense when he decides to use all these confusing medical terms.

  He seems to sense my uncertainly when he leans forwards again. "I'm not calling you psychotic, Zoey. This isn't a disease and you're not going "crazy" as you've called it." He does those quotes with his fingers and it almost makes me laugh seeing him do it. He is too much of a formal manly-man to be doing something like that. I don't laugh though, instead I continue to listen to what he has to say to comfort me more, or confuse me more, or make me heal, or whatever it is he is doing for me.

  "Delirium, the hallucinations you're getting, if that is what this all is. It's not a disease or a mental illness of any sorts. It's more of a side effect, which in medical terms they call a clinical syndrome, which is a set of different symptoms, mostly resulting from the medication you were administered. What I would really like to do is gradually pull you off from your current medication, and in the course of the next week, visit with you a few more times, and gradually place you onto another medication with fewer side effects that coincides more with your needs, your body, and your mind. This can be tricky and there could be some trial and error, but in the long run, you'll feel a lot better."

  "What if I don't want to be on antidepressants anymore?"

  "Well by all means, that is up to you, but are you sure about that? You may feel happy and healed right now, considering, but when you take yourself off from the medication all together, you could easily fall back into a deep depression, sometimes worse than the one you were in before. Of course, that is not always true, but it's a large concern. As a doctor, my medical advice, if you want to be off antidepressants all together, is gradually get yourself there. You need to start a routine with yourself, take a lot of vitamin-D, drink approximately eight glasses of water a day, get outside often, exercise for at least a half hour a day, and get at least a half hour of quiet and daily focus by yourself. That is a lot to work on."

  Wow, that seems like a lot. Maybe a tiny little pill is the better option.

  "I don't know, I'll think about it all."

  "Okay, well, we have a few more sessions in the next week to discuss all this. Please don't just take yourself off from the medication you're currently on. I would like you to cut your pill in half, and take the half of pill each day, approximately the same time each day. I want you to possibly try to drink more water, cut out any and all alcohol intake, get more fresh air if possible. You say your sister is staying with you currently?"

  "Yeah, she is," I say, while nodding my head.

  He smiles. "Good, it's nice to have a great support system around during such a crucial time in your life. Now, I want to discuss one last thing with you." Oh dear lord! "Say Harvey is real, he isn't just an illusion your brain made up to help you heal, I want you to get every little fact about him you possibly c
an."

  I give him a strange look. "Uh, okay."

  "I'm saying this for your safety. I’m not just being uncanny." He laughs awkwardly and relaxes a little more into his seat as I sit up in mine. "It's very concerning that you know nothing about a man you've been dating for several weeks and met over two months ago. There could be something seriously wrong with him and you could be in great danger if he is indeed a living, breathing human being. If he just up and leaves, and disconnects his phone number, and you know nothing about him, his family, or where he lives. Well, you could be in some great deal of danger."

  I want to curl up in a ball and scold myself for being so careless of my own safety. How had I not thought of all this before now? How could I have not seen the warning signs? I feel like such an idiot. I'm like one of those girls in a Lifetime movie, who end up raped and murdered because I'm intrigued by a good looking stranger I meet in a random place. Oh, how naive I truly am.

  Dr. Ross stands up and walks over to the door. Before he opens it, he looks at me with a stern, concerning look. "You seem like a very intelligent, hard working woman. We all get caught up in things in life, so don't beat yourself up over something that you can't change now. Just learn from your mistakes, Ms. LaRoche. Please call me if you have any questions or concerns, and I'll see you tomorrow evening at four. We will get this situation smoothed out together and you can move on to living your normal, joyous life."

  Normal and joyous life. He obviously didn't hear anything I told him about what I've been through.

  I don't argue, instead I thank him, shake his hand, and walk through his door.

  Brice was waiting for me at my apartment when I got there. It was a later appointment, one in which I didn't really have to miss a whole day of work for, so by the time I got home, he was already out of work. He asked about my appointment but I felt oddly closed up, even after everything, and just told him "fine". I ended up going into my room and passed out shortly after. I hardly even said a word to Emi.