Fake (A Pretty Pill) (10 page)

I’m sure she can handle herself in a fight, but emotionally she seems a little shuttered.  Or maybe it’s just with him.  Who cares, I need to carefully watch that douchebag. 
Douchebag?
  Man, I’m becoming so American.  It makes me chuckle to myself as I make my way to the dining room.

There are way more guys than girls
here.  The ratio is obvious; for every girl there are three guys.  I notice the nervous chick seated by herself in the corner and I look around for a seat to perch myself on.  I finally settle on sitting at a table where a nerdy looking dude is sitting.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” I ask him.

He shrugs his shoulders and goes back to his magazine, slowly eating the sandwich he has before him.

I’ve grabbed a chicken salad roll, a blueberry muffin and
a serving of chips, which I asked them to drizzle gravy over.

The guy looks up at me
just as I take a huge bite of my roll.  What is it about people that wait till you have a mouth full of food before beginning a conversation?

“Male or female?”

“What?” I garble rudely around my food.

“Who do you prefer,
men or women?” he rolls his eyes.

Shit,
that’s the second time today.

“Women.”

“Shame.” he says, looking me up and down.

“Your gaydar isn’t working well if yo
u can’t pick that up.” I reason before taking another bite.

“It works fine.  If it wasn’t, I’d have asked you back to my room
instead of clarifying first.”

I can’t help but chuckle at that.

“Let me share my knowledge about the girls in the room.” he says, conspiratorially leaning in.

“Susan will
blow you if you give her a nod, she’s a bit of a slut.” he’s indicating a peroxide blond at the centre table; she’s pretty in an obvious kind of way.  “But she won’t let you fuck her.  Then there’s Fran over there,” he nods back over his shoulder at the mousy looking girl with glasses, “don’t go near her unless you want your dick cut off.”

“Fair warning.” I nod.

“Then there’s the trio, Diana, Peta and Lauren.  They do each other, so you don’t stand a chance.” he nods to a table where three girls hold court with each other.

“Then there’s Felicity,
she’s actually nice.  But she’s not likely to go there with you.  Unless you plan on marrying her first.  And lastly, there’s Gretel.” he indicates the shy, young looking girl in the corner.  “She’s an unknown.  She’s been here for a week.”

“Um, thanks for the hookup advice.” I say, turning to my food again.

“Otherwise you can always jump the fence and the fun can be limitless.” he grins.

“Nope.
Thanks, but no.” I firmly state, putting an end to that line of questioning.

“Cool.  I’m Luke by the way.”

“Silas.” I reply reaching across and shaking hands.

“Bipolar.” he indicates to himself.

“Same.”

He nods.

Ethan walks into the room, and Luke’s body language does something similar to what Isi’s had.

‘Stay away from that one if you can.  He’s cruel
and seriously fucking weird.”  Luke whispers.

“Okay.”

“No really; stay away from him.” Luke says pleadingly.

I totally believe him.  “How long have you been here?”

“This is fortunately my last week.” he says, just as Ethan walks directly to our table.  That means he’s been here three weeks.

“Luke.”
Ethan sneers.

“Ethan.”

“I see you’ve been ingratiating yourself with the new comers again.”

“Just offering some advice.” he grumbles.

Ethan’s eyes burn before he turns them to take me in.

“Dr. Jen
sen has just made herself available for you; and since she’s got a busy afternoon, she’s asked me to come and collect you, Silas.” Ethan conveys.

“Can I take my food?”

He nods, so I grab my food and stand.

“Thanks Luke,
catch you later.” I say, ignoring Ethan’s angry look.

Luke nods.

***

“I’d steer clear of him.  He’s gay
.” Ethan suggests, walking me to the offices.

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was catching.”
I respond.

He sneers again.  “It’s unnatural.”

“Okay.” I say in a completely unconvincing fashion.

“
If God wanted people to screw their own gender, he’d have made separate planets for them to occupy.” he reasons.

Say what?
 
And I’m in here because I have a mental illness?

“I don’t believe in God.” I offer.

He actually draws in breath like he’s just surfaced from a deep sea free-dive and has been starved of oxygen.

“So you
’re in league with the Devil?” he asks.

Are you kidding me?
  He’s kind of pissing me off, and that just makes me want to punch him.

But
I’m also seriously thrown off guard.
  Who the fuck is this person?  And I’m considered to be a psycho?
  I can hear the frantic music of the Hitchcock classic playing loudly; the electric atmosphere currently surrounding me is suffocating.  I’ve got to say something.

“You see
Ethan; the problem with that scenario is that I’d have to believe in God to believe in the Devil.  And since I don’t believe in God, I can’t possibly believe in the Devil… so, no.  I’m not in league with any supernatural entity.” I argue.

Ethan is shaking his head and looking at me in shock.

“You just haven’t found Jesus yet.”

Oh, you’ve got to
be seriously fucking kidding me; this guy has moved beyond annoying and is swiftly travelling towards infuriating.  Where’s the cameras, I must be getting pranked.

And then
I recall a line in the movie
Forrest Gump
.  The bit where Sergeant Dan is whinging about finding Jesus and Forrest simply says he didn’t know that he was supposed to look for him.  It turns this around and saves Ethan’s face from being pummeled, because it makes this all funny, so I chuckle.

“It’s not a funny matter.  I’ll pray for your soul.”  Ethan says.

I’m just gobsmacked.  He opens the door to the therapy and counseling room and a slight, elderly woman is seated in a comfortable chair across the far side with a folder on her lap.  She rises, so I go towards her and shake her hand before we both seat ourselves down.  I place my food on the coffee table in front of me.

“Thank you Eth
an; that will be all.” she says and Ethan leaves.  I couldn’t be bothered to watch him go.  He’s a fucking nut job.

“Feel free to eat Silas.” she says.

I nod, “You have a whack job on your staff.” I risk saying.

She sighs, “Ethan.”

“He’s seriously fucking weird, he’s lucky I didn’t punch him out.”

“He’s a good nurse.  He’s just… I can’t talk to you about staff.” she reasons.  “How are you this morning?”

“I’m okay.”  I respond, wondering if Ethan really is a nut job or just playing me.

“What happened to your hands?”

I look down at my hands and notice that the sleeves are still in place.

“Nothing.”

“Why do you have bandages on them?”

“I’m a fighter,
I feel comfortable at the moment having them strapped.” I lie.

“Who strapped them for you?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Okay.  But we need to wean you off the strapping.  You need to get things back to a state of normal.” she reasons.

“How did you know I had my hands strapped?”

“I could feel it.” she explains, “When I shook your hand.”

“Oh, okay.” I mentally berate myself.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

“I’ll let the staff know you like them strapped, but you’ll need to wean off.”

“Just give me this week.” I beg.

“Okay.”

Fucking close call,
but I think she’s simply humoring me.

“Do you have a gym?  A punching bag
and boxing equipment?” I ask.

“
Yes and no.  All acts of violence are frowned upon.  You’ll need to take up jogging and cardio styled exercises to release angst while you’re here.”

I nod.

“We need to discuss how you came to be here, or how you came to be sick this time around.” she says smiling.

“Okay.”

“You spent 12 weeks in Gateways.”

“Yes.”

“That’s a long time.”

“I wasn’t a model citizen there.” I explain.  I feel stupid about it now.

“Do you plan on being sensible here?”

“Yes,
I don’t want to go back to an acute setting.  I want to get better; actually I feel better already.” I explain.

“That’s good.  You tried to suicide twice while at Gateways.”

“Yes.” I say, and it makes me wince that she would have all the paperwork surrounding the attempts, probably in her hands right now.  I can’t lie about them.

“Both times you attempted to asphyxiate yourself.”

“Yes.” I sigh.

“They put you into observation both times?”

“Yes, the second time for much longer.” I explain.

“Why did you try to kill yourself?”

“Over Shae.”

“Your ex-girlfriend.”

“Yes.”

“And do you still feel that way;
like killing yourself?”

“N
o.” I answer completely honestly.

“And you can think about Shae and not feel overwhelmed?”

“Most of the time.”

“Do
you feel like you’re over her?” she asks me.

“No.  I’ll never be
completely over her.”

“But you understand the need to move on?”

“Yes.  I can move on and put her behind me.” I explain.

“What about the possibilities of meeting another partner?  Do you think that will ever happen?  Do you feel there
’ll come a day when you can give yourself to someone again?” she asks.

“Yes,
but she’ll have to be remarkable.  I wouldn’t be able to feel the way I did for Shae with anyone that wasn’t remarkably special.”

“
Well it’s good to know you’ve at least entertained this thought.  It shows you’re willing to put things behind you and move on.” she says smiling.  “Now, tell me about the parcel.”

Shit,
she knows about that?  I give her a quizzical look.

“I spoke to your sister
just before you came in here and asked if there was anything we needed to address.”  She says.

“It was a parcel from Shae.  It took me completely off guard.” I explain.

“You feinted.” she says.

“I…” damn.  I did, I was so shocked I forgot to breath and I feinted.  “I did.  I was shocked to be touching something she had recently touched; something that she had written on.” I explain, groaning and placing my head in my hands.

“It can be hard at first.” she says soothingly.

I nod.

“What would happen if she walked in here right now?” she asks.

I quick
ly fall into a panic.
Oh, she noticed that.

“I think we both know you’d not manage that very we
ll; don’t worry she’s not here and I don’t know her.” she explains softly.

I sigh in relief.

“I’ll be fine, I’ll move on and I may even find someone else to love.  I just won’t be very successful at it if I have to constantly be around her or reminded of her.” I reason breathing hard.

“I think that’s a very standard response for the human condition.” she smiles at me.  “
People who divorce are hardly likely to buy houses next door to each other and be best buddies; although it can happen in some obscure cases.  Most people require a complete departure from their previous relationships.” she explains.

“I agree.”

“Where do you see yourself after you leave here completely.” she asks.

“Living somewhere around here and
getting back into fighting.” I answer.

“What about dating?”

“I, I’ve never dated.  I was with Shae since we were in High School together.  I don’t know how to date.”

“Do you know how to approach people?  Or do you find that hard?”

“I’m cool with talking to new people, but I’m pretty selective at who I let inside my inner circle.” I explain.