by Grace Risata
“Whether you realize it or not, the only emotion you’ve shown since walking into my office has been anger and unhappiness. But when you started speaking about this friend of yours, you actually cracked the barest hint of a smile. That means something.”
I shrugged my shoulders and glanced at one of the many framed certificates littering the wall. Except it wasn’t anything about the field of psychiatry. It was an award for recognition of some act of bravery during the Vietnam War.
“You served?” I asked, pointing to the accolade.
“Yes. This should further prove that I actually know what I’m talking about, because I’ve been where you are right now. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, Dixon.”
“What do I have to do?”
“I’m going to ask you three questions and then you’re free to go for today. Are you open to taking pills for your symptoms?”
“Fuck no,” I replied immediately, vehemently shaking my head. “I’d rather feel the pain than go through life as some drug-induced zombie with his brain in a fog. Not happening, so don’t even try to pawn that shit off on me. Next question.”
He sighed deeply, and began mumbling about stubborn soldiers who wouldn’t listen to reason.
“Fine. Fair enough. I’m going to write you a prescription for the lowest dose of anti-anxiety medicine. Everything that happens in my office involves free will. You have several choices, Dixon. You can either rip up this prescription and throw it on my desk, put it in your pocket for later if you change your mind, or make a good decision and get it filled. It’s entirely up to you. But before you go off and make rash statements, let me explain why I’m doing this.”
“Drugs fix everything. It’s like putting a band-aid on a gunshot wound,” I offered, not giving a fuck about anything else that might come out of his mouth. “I don’t need happy drugs like some middle-aged woman who’s all stressed out because her life is too busy, she can’t balance career and family, and her husband isn’t satisfying her in bed. No thanks, Doc.”
“I’m sure all the millions of people on Prozac would love to hear your opinion on their problems. If you’re done spouting nonsense, maybe you can open your ears and listen. Anxiety is caused by a wide variety of issues. They do have a common denominator. A root, if you will. Mental health issues are caused by situations, lifestyle, genetics, and chemistry of the brain. That’s right, they’re medical in nature. When you’re in the middle of a dangerous situation, your subconscious causes a flight or fight response. The mind makes the body act as a result.”
Blah, blah. More psycho-babble. I don’t care about the cavemen and their body’s response to danger. This isn’t the Stone Age.
“I can see your eyes glazing over, so I’ll get to the point. Your brain makes a chemical called Serotonin. If your brain doesn’t make enough, it throws your body into chaos and bad things happen such as panic attacks, anxiety, and depression. It’s the same exact thing as someone with an underactive thyroid needing medicine to fix their hormone level, a diabetic needing drugs to stabilize their insulin level, or a heart patient needing aspirin to thin their blood. When something is wrong in the body, there are instances where medicine can fix it. Therefore, if you can swallow your pride and take the stuff I’m prescribing, you may find it can help.”
“If one little pill can cure me, then how come everyone doesn’t take them?”
“You’d be surprised how many people are on Prozac. That’s what I’m prescribing for you. It’s been around for many years and it’s proven to be quite safe.”
“What are the side effects?” If anything causes my sex drive to suffer, I’m not touching the shit. Not like I’m planning on getting laid in the near future, but it never hurts to be prepared. Just my luck, the stupid pills would cause some dysfunction on my part. That’s the only thing on me that actually works and I’ll be damned if I’m going to mess with perfection.
“I’m prescribing a very low dose, so you shouldn’t really notice anything negative. There might be some very vivid dreams for a week or two, plus heartburn or nausea. Some people experience increased anxiety or problems sleeping.”
“I already have anxiety and sleep trouble, so that won’t be anything new.”
“Good, then you have no reason to object. You just need to realize that this is a slow acting drug that takes a while to build up in your system. Valium or Xanax work within minutes, but Prozac takes time to be effective. I want you to give it at least two months before you decide to quit.”
“I’ll think about it. That’s all I can say.”
“Thank you. Next question…how do you feel about yourself right now? Good? Bad?”
“Not very good.” What kind of a stupid ass question was that? Obviously I wasn’t living the dream life or I wouldn’t be here right now.
“It shows, Dixon. In order to feel better, you have to look better. Judging by your ragged clothes and unkempt appearance, it’s plainly visible that you don’t care about yourself. I want you to go get a haircut and freshen up. Today starts a new chapter, one of recovery, so you need to signify that by taking action. A little bit of a makeover will do you a world of good. That’s your homework for the day. See…I’m not here to talk it out and make you use your words. I believe in action to solve problems.”
“I can respect that.” This guy wasn’t turning out to be totally lame after all. I agreed with the whole ‘words are useless’ train of thought. I was of the mindset that actions speak louder than words.
“Third question. Why did you really decide to come in today after skipping the first three appointments?”
I took a deep breath and tried to decide how I should answer this. Doc insisted on the truth, but I didn’t even know if I was ready to admit it and be honest with myself.
“Her.”
“Who?”
“The friend who gave me all the suggestions on how to fix myself.”
“She made you keep the appointment?”
“No. She doesn’t even know about it. I kept it because…I guess…I like her.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want to feel like a piece of shit with mental problems and no job and no future. If there’s any way I might turn things around so I can be worthy of a girl like her, it’s worth a try.”
“So you see a future with this lady friend of yours? What makes you so sure she’s worth all the hassle? I don’t want you to set yourself up for a disappointment by putting all your eggs in one basket. What if you set your sights on this woman and she doesn’t return your feelings? I’m a realist, Dixon. You should be getting better for your own good, not to try to win a lady’s affections.”
“She likes me. She may not say it, but she shows it. I just get the feeling that she’s there for me no matter what happens. There’s not one single ordinary bone in the girl’s body. If you think I’m stubborn, you should meet her. No matter how shitty I treat her or how many times I tell her to go away, she keeps coming back for some reason. Batshit crazy, I guess.”
I nodded my head while picturing Alyce and all her strangeness. I wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when she texted me this morning letting me know she wouldn’t be at the veteran’s center today. I think part of me knew that even though I told her to leave me alone, she wouldn’t. Is it wrong that I was relieved to get her text?
“You’re smiling again, Dixon. Go get a damn haircut and clean yourself up. Fill the prescription. Get the girl. It’s going to take awhile to get yourself back on track, but we’ll figure it out.”
“Thanks, Doc,” I said, feeling a little less alone than I had when I walked in today. Maybe there was hope for me after all. “If I’m seeing you now, does that mean I can be done with Mr. Brown? He’s the shrink from the county that’s supervising my probation and he’s a total idiot.”
“Sorry. I can’t help you there. Just play along, tell him what he wants to hear, and then come to me for the good advice.”
I stood up, shook his hand, and
walked out the door. I guess the next stop is to find a decent barber and figure out what to do with myself.
Chapter Seventeen
RING
RING RING
What the fuck? I looked at my alarm clock and wondered who in the hell was calling me at one in the morning on a Saturday.
Oooh. What if Dixon gave up on the whole ‘let’s pretend we don’t exist together in the same universe’ game and he wanted a booty call? Yes! Sweet victory is mine. But that would look desperate on my part to go running at his every beck and call. I should say ‘no’ and tell him to call at a decent time. But it’s been days since I’d gotten laid and a woman has needs.
RING
RING RING
But what if it’s Kassie wanting to spend hours on the phone dissecting her latest dude drama and making me debate on which boy she should choose? I’m not answering that call. No way, no how.
RING
RING RING
Shit. I could probably figure out who it is if I just look at the caller ID. Damn stupid lack of logic at one in the morning.
Nina?
What the hell does she want?
“Hello?” I mumbled, certain that something must be terribly, horribly wrong.
“ALYCE!” she screamed and promptly began sobbing incoherently. “…and then he…and then she….and then they….and I’m freaking out!”
“I can’t understand you when you’re blubbering. What’s wrong?”
“Remember how I told you that my boyfriend was visiting this weekend as an early birthday present?”
“Yeah…did he get in a car accident on the way to see you?”
“No, he made it here safely.”
“Then what’s the problem?” For someone who had the nerve to wake me from a sound sleep, she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the details.
“Remember I told you he wanted to discuss something very important with me, but he insisted on doing it in person?”
“Did he propose?” Just get on with it already and let me go back to sleep.
“DO I SOUND LIKE THESE ARE HAPPY TEARS?” she shouted into the phone, causing me to sit bolt upright in bed. Okay. Not getting back to dreamland any time soon.
“Shit. I am so sorry, Alyce. I don’t mean to yell and take any of this out on you. I’m just desperate for a friend to talk to and I’m not myself at the moment. I’m so distraught. I don’t know what to do and who to turn to!” she wailed in despair.
“Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong, Nina.”
I tucked an oversized pillow behind my back, brought the covers up to my chin, and got comfortable. I had a feeling this wouldn’t be a short phone call.
“Ben was acting weird from the moment he stepped out of the car. After arriving two hours late with no explanation, he ducked out of the way when I tried to kiss him and refused to return my welcome hug. That’s when I knew something was wrong. His hands were usually all over me like an octopus.”
“Okay,” I replied with a yawn.
“He suggested we go somewhere public to chat instead of following me back inside my apartment. I think some small part of me thought he wanted to propose in a romantic restaurant, and maybe he was just acting strange because he was nervous.”
I wish she’d hurry the hell up and get to the end of the story. I had no patience at this time of night.
“So we went to a freaking fast food joint, he ordered a double cheeseburger, and proceeded to explain that he’d been secretly screwing my best friend behind my back for the past two months!”
“Holy shit,” I sputtered. That was about the last thing I expected to come out of her mouth.
“I know! I stared at him in shock, unable to process what was happening. My life flashed before my eyes and I was at a complete loss for words.”
“What did you do?” I would have punched him in the face. I tend to solve most conflicts with violence. That’s probably not a healthy habit, but I was never any good at holding myself back in certain situations.
“Ben continued to eat his cheeseburger with no sense of remorse while telling me that he got lonely after I left town to help my aunt. With no one around to ‘satisfy his needs,’ he turned to my best friend for comfort. Evidently ‘comfort’ means a willing pussy to sink his dick into.”
Wow. Such foul language. I was proud of her.
“Should we round up a posse and cut off his balls?” I offered.
“There’s no one to round up,” she squeaked, breaking into a fresh batch of tears. “Not only am I being dumped by my boyfriend a week before my birthday, I have no best friend to console me…because…because she’s the one he cheated with!”
“Did you have any idea she liked him?” I asked, silently wondering just how long they’d known each other. What kind of a best friend bangs your boyfriend the second you leave town? “Could she have been after him for a while?”
“No! We’d all been friends in high school, but Mary was a bit of an ugly duckling that hadn’t yet blossomed into a swan. All three of us went off to different colleges, and Mary kind of reinvented herself. She came back to town a few months before I left…and she was a lot different. I guess Ben took notice and couldn’t help himself.”
“You do not get to pardon him, Nina! It’s no one’s fault but Ben’s that he cheated on you. It’s not your fault for leaving town to take care of your sick aunt. If the guy really loved you, he wouldn’t have strayed. Mary also deserves blame here. It takes two to tango. I don’t think Ben accidentally tripped and his cock fell into her lady trap. Who knows how long she was waiting to sink her claws into your boyfriend. In my opinion, you’re better off without either one of them.”
“I guess so…but it hurts, Alyce.”
“I know. Are you going to call Mary and ream her a new asshole?”
“Oh, that’s the best part. While Ben was casually inhaling French fries like he hadn’t eaten in a week, she had the nerve to call and see how it went. The idiot got a new cellphone and couldn’t work the buttons, accidentally putting her on speaker. I was forced to hear her stupid voice asking him if I cried and tried to beg him to reconsider.”
“She didn’t!” This was like a damn soap opera. Poor Nina.
“She did! I calmly grabbed the phone and politely told her to go fuck herself. I then informed the bitch that I would never lower myself to beg a man for anything, and that I hope she enjoyed my sloppy seconds. As far as I’m concerned, they can both go to hell. I’m done. I’m dateless and friendless. I’m going to die alone!”
“Calm down. You’re not friendless. Hello? Who am I? Chopped liver? If you didn’t consider me a friend, albeit a new one, you wouldn’t be calling me so damn late at night. Let’s think of something fun to do so we can get your mind off the cheating douchebag and his whore. How about…we go out for your birthday next week? You pick the place and we’ll get wild and raise hell.”
“Really, Alyce? You would do that for me?” she sniffled, breaking into more tears. “I can never repay you for this kindness. Just when I think I’m at my lowest point, you’ve given me a reason to have hope.”
“I can’t fix your broken heart, but I can drown it in booze. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”
A loud crack of thunder boomed outside my window and rain began to pour, knocking on the glass like the heavens opened up and unleashed a monsoon.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked in surprise.
“A thunderstorm,” she explained, as though it were a stupid question. “The world is grieving for my shattered love life. Also, the weather guy has been predicting this for the last few days. Don’t you ever watch the news?”
“No, it’s just depressing. Is the storm supposed to be really bad?”
“Yeah. They gave it an eight out of ten for severity. I’m not some storm chaser or anything, but I have a little crush on the weather guy from channel seven. He’s super hot. I also paid attention in case the storm would mess with Ben’s visit. He’s probably h
alfway home by now, racing into the arms of his adultering wench. Why do you ask? Are you afraid of storms? I honestly can’t picture you afraid of anything, Alyce. You seem pretty bad-ass.”
“Thunder doesn’t bother me one bit, but I know someone who is definitely going to have a problem with it. How about if you try to get some sleep and then we can talk again in the morning when you have a fresh perspective on things? Maybe we can grab brunch and plot your revenge.”
“I would like that a lot,” she replied. “Thanks for being there when I needed you. Talk to you later.”
I have a feeling there’s someone else who might need me to be there for them right about now. A certain stubborn beast that does not care for the spontaneity of thunder.
“The thunder…are you okay?” I texted, hoping that he might have slept through the loud boom and wasn’t having an anxiety attack. Maybe Dixon wouldn’t reply at all since he was still ignoring me.
Beep.
Or maybe he was wide awake and responded after two seconds.
“Not okay. Come over?”
“I’m on my way.”
Chapter Eighteen
I raced over to Dixon’s apartment as fast as I could safely go. It took forever due to the torrential downpour and several lightning strikes that knocked out a few street lights. The radio announcer kept warning everyone to ‘stay inside and keep off the roads’ due to power outages, downed trees, and general mayhem. He informed us that the storm was slow moving and expected to linger over the listening area for at least the next hour.
As lightning flashed and thunder shattered the silence of the night, I appreciated the beauty and unpredictability of Mother Nature as she did her thing. I hadn’t lied to Nina…I really wasn’t afraid of storms at all. I was, however, afraid of how Dixon might be reacting.
Entering his apartment building and running down the hall, I came to a screeching halt in front of his door. Not only was it unlocked, but it was also cracked open. I guess there wasn’t a need to knock since I was clearly expected. Seeing no sign of the man in his living room, I quietly called out his name and proceeded to the bedroom. What waited there was a wretched sight to behold.