The trees outside scratched the glass windows as if they were trying to get out of restraints in
an old time mental institution. Coincidentally enough, this building used to be one but was
repurposed as a group therapy office. The outside still held the Gothic architecture that was laid
almost two hundred years ago.
“So how’d you come to arrive here?”
The man across from the gentleman posing the question was sat on a red leather couch that
looked pretty gaudy, maybe passed down generations or a thrift store grab for a forgetful office
decorator. His clothes, upscale, business suit without the jacket were soaking wet, presumably
from the dreary and cold day outside. He looked agitated at the question, stroking his mainly black
with gray patches beard.
“See, that’s the stupid shit I was trying to avoid by coming here in the first place. You can’t
see my clothes? I walked here. Turned left on Kossuth, like the website said.”
The therapist lightly chuckled before shooting back, “that’s not what I meant, let me
rephrase.” Shuffling the notebook on his lap and dropping it from his grasp, “ What I meant was
under what circumstances did you reach out to us? What are you looking to accomplish by coming
here, Jamie?”
“Please, call me Jay,” he said, speaking in a much more relaxed tone than he initially opened
with. “Well, that’s tough. I feel like it’s the only thing I haven’t tried. I’m… lost in life. I know I have a
drinking problem and I’ve been off the sauce for about eight months now. Two hundred six days and
counting.” Jamie, clearly pleased with knowing exactly how long he has been alcohol free, relaxed a bit
and sprawled his back a bit against the couch.
“Well, I think that’s marvelous. Simply marvelous. May I ask a brief follow up?”
“Yeah, sure thing, doc.”
“What made you want to stop? I see in your report here you had been drinking consistently
for over twenty years?”
Jamie sat up and clamped his hands together, signifying just how honest he had planned to be.
“I guess the main reason is that I was tired of losing people. Losing people directly from being
an asshole while being shit-faced. I’ve thought of this a lot, so please allow me to expand.”
The doctor gave the go ahead by making a light go motion with his right hand.
“So I kinda look at it as retirement. There’s not a single experience I haven’t had while drinking.
I’m not missing out on anything but a two day hangover. Wasting money on drunk eats? Fuck, I’ve
probably spent upwards of twenty thousand just on drinking adventures, if that’s what you want to
call them.”
The therapist scribbled in his notepad as Jamie answered more thoroughly.
“Anyways, yeah, I just feel like there isn’t much more for me to do in that arena. I’ve
had the spontaneous fun, the waking up next to a stranger, waking up to people hating you or
scared to check your phone because of what you may have said the night before. I’ve done it all.
Like Jordan. But drinking.”
Satisfied with the reply he spoke, he once again leaned back into his more relaxed state -
back against the couch. He looked around the room as Dr. Wesley carefully considered his response.
So far, Jamie had liked the doctor he chose. It was almost to a point that he was leaning towards giving
up on the idea of help for good. Suicidal thoughts were becoming more common with each passing
day, but he hadn’t shared them with anybody yet. He assumed it was most likely a bi-product
of this new way of life he had adopted almost a year ago.
Dr. Wesley stood up to get some wrinkles he saw in his clothes, smoothly brushing down
his dress shirt and khakis ensemble. He got back to the chair before apologizing, which was
graciously accepted by Jamie.
“That’s a very original and thoughtful reason and I can dispute none of it. Unfortunately,
alcohol addiction is very common in our society, you see -” Before he could finish his sentence, Jamie
inferred.
“Thar’s exactly it! It’s god damn everywhere! Let’s say for example me and you had dinner
after this, right?” The doctor nodded, giving him the green light to continue. “Right so if I order twelve
beers and four shots nobody would bat an eye. I bust out a bag of coke and start doing rails off a
dinner plate and suddenly I’m a monster and needs to be locked up.”
“Oh absolutely, that’s what I was getting to. It’s socially acceptable to not only drink but to get
drunk. Weekly, sometimes nightly depending on career and other factors such as friends groups,
things like that.
Jamie nodded along, checking his watch to see how much time was remaining.
“So, doc we got a few minutes left, can we open this up to where I can ask you something?”
The doctor was amused by the question, having never been asked it before. “You know, in
all my years, I’ve never been asked that. Sure thing, Jamie.”
Jamie’s gaze caught a painting on the wall.
“That right there. Is it meant to fuck with me? Make me think I’m crazy?”
Just as he finished the question, the doctor’s timer went off. “That’s time. I’m sorry, I had to cut
a few minutes this week.
“Next time?” asked the doctor.
Jamie stood, disappointed. “It’s the first thing we’re talking about.”
The doctor laughed and escorted him out the door, gently closing it behind him to return
back to his chair. He turned the lights out and reclined back, placing his notepad on his forehead for
even more darkness. Drifting to sleep, thinking about that damn painting. He’d never had a patient as
intellectually sound as Jamie. Things could get ugly sooner rather than later.
