by trentm32 » 4/23/2007, 12:17 am
it continues...
Chapter Fourteen
“Turning Out Just Fine”
“I don’t want to talk to a shrink.”
As I said the words Cassandra just looked at me the same way she’d been looking at me the entire drive up there.
“Doctor Peters isn’t a ‘shrink,’ Jake; he’s just someone that wants to help you work things out.” She sounded so matter-of-fact as she was saying all of this. I could tell that she had never spoken to a psychiatrist before. She seemed to think they somehow had the power to just magically fix everything—but I guess she was just trying to help.
Who I really wanted to talk to was Chris; but nothing had happened since that phone call—I would have tried to convince myself that I imagined every bit of it, but I knew for a fact there wasn’t a chance it would work.
I looked over to Cassandra to find her still waiting patiently for me to say something. I’d never told her that Chris and I had to go see a psychiatrist every other month when we were kids: it was a state requirement, and I hated doing it then.
I didn’t want to argue anymore, so I just changed the subject.
“So, are we still going away next weekend?” I asked. Ever since everything with Chris had happened, Cassandra had wanted to take me away for a little while. Her uncle had a house on some lake in some small town; and she thought it might do us good to just go up there and spend the weekend.
“Yep, I’ve got it all set up. The key is right here,” she said; as she patted her pant pocket gently. I couldn’t help but smile.
“That sounds good.”
Maybe the time away would help.
“Turn here, Jake,” Cassandra said—pointing toward a small business park to the left. I just sighed under my breath, and let out an exaggerated groan as I pulled in and parked in the strip-mall reminiscent parking lot. It was almost empty except for us, and a handful of other cars dotted randomly around the asphalt sea.
I opened my car door slowly, and made my way around to Cassandra’s to open the door for her. As she got out of the car she curtsied, and put her arms around my neck.
“Everything’s going to be alright, you know.” I couldn’t count how many times I’d heard that over the past few weeks. I just nodded my head as convincingly as I could; and started walking toward the large glass doors.
The entire front was composed of large, tinted windows. I could see inside to the spartan, nearly empty waiting room that awaited me.
I stood there for a moment, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
There were cheap, uncomfortable looking chairs scattered and lining the walls, each one leaving a fair amount of space between the others; little fortresses of solitude, each and every one.
I looked at my feet as I made my way towards the front desk; it was a dark, dirty blue with a small, diamond pattern in the center of each square foot.
Once we’d reached the desk, I looked over to Cassandra. She squeezed my hand and smiled. I turned my eyes to the receptionist just in time to catch her distractedly handing me the sign-in sheet.
I scribbled my name down, and handed it back to her.
“It’ll be just a few moments, sir,” she said; never looking up throughout the entire process. All of her attention was focused on her computer screen; and in my mind I bet that she was playing Solitaire.
Cassandra and I walked over to two of the spaced out chairs, and sat down. There was a small table between us, with magazines haphazardly laid upon it. I thumbed through them for a few moments to find that the most recent issue of Time was from twelve months prior. I showed it to Cassandra:
“Some stellar reading material, here,” I said jokingly.
“Nice,” she chuckled. I could tell that she was glad I was finally beginning to act a bit more like myself; or at least, a bit more like I used to act.
“Jake Danton?”
My head shot up in abrupt surprise, and I scanned my eyes quickly around the room at the mention of my name. They finally settled upon the distracted receptionist; looking at me like I was an idiot.
I stood up, and put my hand on Cassandra’s.
“Be back in a bit.” Cassandra smiled at me as I walked slowly toward the private back area. The receptionist led me through the egg white door to the back; and eventually to a small office.
“Doctor Peters will be with you in just a moment,” the receptionist said, as she quickly shuffled out of the room and left me alone.
There was a wooden desk in the middle of the room, with two leather chairs sat in front of it. There was also a small, leather couch sitting beside the desk. I chuckled when I saw it. The psychiatrist we had seen as kids didn’t have a sofa in his office, and I had always kind of thought it was just an old joke. Guess not.
I walked over to it, and sat down.
As my arm rested on the side the leather was cool on my skin.
I was just beginning to take in the cozy, wood-paneled room as the door began slowly crept open, and a short, balding man with a thin, gray beard slipped through it, smiled at me for a moment, then turned around to close the door behind him. He had a small, manila file folder in his hand.
We looked at each other for a few moments--him smiling, me mostly annoyed—and he finally walked the long way around me to take a seat behind his desk.
“Jake, is it?” He said, as he thumbed through the folder now open in his hand.
I shook my head ‘yes.’
“In the flesh,” I quickly added.
He smiled and nodded.
“So, Jake; what brings you here, to my office?” I gave him a puzzled look at that.
“It should all be in your folder there, Doc,” I retorted; pointing haphazardly at the white pages I could see sticking out of the folder in his hands.
“Yes, of course I already know why you’re here; I just want to hear what you have to say.” I shook my head.
“My brother—Chris—he, well...he died,” I finally said. It still felt strange to say it aloud. He shook his head solemnly back to me.
“I’m sorry to hear about that, Jake. I really am.” He paused a moment.
We sat there in silence for a bit, and he tried to get me to open up by chatting about the weather, and sports, and anything else that people chat about to try to find a comfort level.
After about fifteen minutes of inconsequential chatter, he finally made a swift return to the topic at hand: me.
“Looking back on your life,” he said sincerely; while thumbing through the rest of the pages in his folder, “you seem to have lost quite a few people in your life; haven’t you Jake?” He continued rifling through the papers.
I just shrugged back in response.
“You grew up in foster care I see;” he continued reading, “and even a few years ago your girlfriend, Fait—”
“—Hey,” I interjected. “That’s all old news, Doc. That’s all in the past. I’m alright now; really, I am.” He looked me up and down, and finally nodded in agreement.
“Yes, I suppose you are Jake, you really are. Even with all you’ve been through in your life, you’ve turned out to be a well-rounded, fairly successful young man. You put yourself through college, you have a new woman in your life,” he said as he motioned his hand out toward Cassandra in the waiting lounge.
“You really have turned out quite well. And, of course, if you ever need someone to talk to, that’s why I’m here.” After a short pause:
“By the way, how are things between you and—Cassandra, isn’t it?”
He quickly added,
“If you don’t mind me asking, or course.” I shrugged my shoulders and thought a moment.
“They’re fine, Doc. Just fine. And, yes; I do mind you asking,” I added with a smile. He chucked a bit.
“Of course, my mistake—I was prying,” he said casually.
I finally continued,
“But yeah, Doc; things are fine with me and Cassandra. It’s nothing too serious, you know; just pretty casual—but yeah, all’s good.” He smiled and nodded.
“Happy to hear it, Jake; social interaction is an excellent indicator of adjustment.” He finally added,
“So, it’s just casual, you say?” I folded my arms across my chest.
“Yeah Doc, just casual,” I shot back—a tinge of annoyance beginning to creep into my voice.
“You know, Jake, a fear of commitment could stem from—”
“—Wait a minute, Doc,” I quickly interrupted him. “I don’t want to get into anything like…that, today. This is just a meet and greet,” I said; waving my hands around the room slowly. “And, I feel like I know you pretty well, now,” I finally added.
After a moment, I stood up.
“If that’s all, Doc?”
I stuck my arm out to shake Peters’ hand. He cracked a sly smile, and finally nodded and rose to return my gesture.
“Until next time, Jake.”
I smiled back in agreement, knowing full well that I had no intention of ever setting foot back in this place again. I took my time walking back out to the waiting room; so that Cassandra would hopefully think I’d spent more time back there than I actually had. I finally reached the doorknob, and turned it slowly.
When Cassandra saw me walk out, she quickly rose to her feet to meet me.
“So, how’d it go?” she curiously asked.
“It went really well, Cassandra; I’m glad you made me come,” I lied.
“I’ll definitely call back up here soon, and make another appointment,” I said, as we quickly made our way through the door and back outside heading towards the car.
...
Chapter Fifteen
“The Cabin By The Water”
It had been a long, slow drive making out way out to the cabin we we’re spending the weekend. The place was nice, but small. From a distance it looked as if it was made of old-looking logs, like it easily could have been built a hundred or more year ago. But, once you made it closer, the glass doors,, patio, and one car garage came into view; and the satellite dish affixed to the roof made itself seen—pointing toward the southern skies.
I pulled my sputtering car up to the closed garage door as close as I comfortably could make it, and we got out and stretched our arms to the sky. The smell of pine needles and fresh water assaulted my first breath. A petite smile escaped my lips.
When we made it to the door, Cassandra pulled the small, lone key from her pant pocket and opened it in front of us. It slid open with ease, and on the inside lay a well kept, tidy living room filled with creature comforts—interspersed with the occasional mounted bass, and deer head to give it that nature feel. A small bookshelf rested on one wall filled to the brim with what looked like cliché mystery novels.
A big-screen television sat as the focal point of the room, while every chair in the room was faced away from the massive window that opened out toward the lake. I made my way slowly to the aperture, and peered out. The water was calm as glass, and all I could think was how much I wanted to walk down, and climb and sit on the rocks beside the water.
“Do you want to go down there?” Cassandra asked. I just shrugged my head no, picked up the TV remote, and sat down in the center of the couch.
“Maybe later,” was all I said.
I thought about walking out into the middle of the woods, and begging and praying to the angels and the pagan gods to help me help my brother.
At that I kind of chuckled to myself at the thought. It scared me that I was still halfway considering it.
I just wish I knew what to do.
Cassandra interrupted my thoughts by asking me to go and get our bags out of the car. They were in the backseat, as the trunk on that car always stayed flooded for weeks after even the slightest bit of rain.
I walked out to the car, loaded up both shoulders, and finally started walking back toward the cabin door. I stopped on the small porch, and just tried my best to take in the scenery.
For winter, it was still pretty warm out there. It might have been that trees and ground just feel warmer than concrete and steel.
Once back in, I just dumped the bags in the middle of the living room floor.
“Which room do you want, Jake?” Cassandra asked; pointing one hand to her left, and the other to her right.
For a while when we’d first gotten together it bothered me that she held so tightly to that one moral conviction; but ever since Chris I hadn’t even thought about it.
“Either’s fine,” I finally said; trying to force a smile.
She smiled back, and carried her bags to the room on her right. I followed suit, dragging my one duffel to the door at the left.
The room was plain enough; just a full-size bed, a small dresser, and scattered pictures of nature scenes and reproduced Norman Rockwell pieces.
There was one hanging over the bed with a happy family, sitting around talking and playing with their dog. Two sons, a mother and father, and a puppy—all smiling.
I couldn’t even imagine it.
Cassandra and I sat up until about ten-thirty at night watching old episodes of Andy Griffith, and finally decided to call it a day.
We kissed one another good night, and each set out to our separate rooms.
Since I wasn’t tired at all, so I just sat in the bed, above the covers, half-reading a book that I’d swiped from the bookshelf in the den. I’d already figured out whodunit by about thirty pages in. I flipped to the end to see if I was right: yep.
I’d been waiting for Cassandra to fall asleep, so I held my breath and listened…nothing. My hands were shaking, so I pulled out a pill from the unmarked bottle in my pocket and chewed it up like candy. I finally slipped out of the bed, and tiptoed my way to the front door to get outside. I grabbed my jacked and scarf and wrapped them both tightly around me. Lastly came my thick toque. As I opened the door to the outside I kept watching and listening to make sure I didn’t wake her.
Once outside, I could surprisingly still see quite well. It was a full moon out, and where that light was blocked by the trees, scattered lampposts illuminated the grounds, and water below.
I walked to the steep hill that led down to the water and started my way down. The ground was soft and loose, and it didn’t take very long until I lost my grip. With my hand flailing through the air, my left foot decided to join the party and before I knew what was happening I was half-rolling, and half-tumbling down the hill.
Good thing I had decided not to try going down on the rocky side, or else it’d have probably killed me. Once I finally made it to where the ground evens off, a few yards from the waters edge, I stopped falling; but sadly my head broke the fall.
I was out.
Cold.
A haze of fog surrounded me, and I couldn’t see anything. I heard a clicking sound, and finally a low ding sound penetrated the air around me. A strong, sharp smell filled my nostrils. I could make out the faint, faint outline of lights blinking and shining far away in the distance. I looked all around me, but in every direction all I could see was darkness.
I tried to walk, but I was too afraid that I would fall. After what seemed like an eternity, the fog slowly began to clear. It never dissipated entirely, but after a little while I began to hear waves—loud, hard waves—crashing into a shore that sounded uncomfortably too close for comfort.
The water finally became visible, and I could see that it was a river, which went on in both directions as far as my eyes could see, and it stretched at least a mile wide to what looked to be another shore on the other side. The water was red as blood; a thick, choking crimson. Rocking in the waves, at the river’s center, I could barely make out what looked like a barge, black as night, fighting to stay afloat and make it’s way slowly across.
Suddenly an icy chill poured over my left hand, and I felt my entire arm jerk in surprise. My head was killing me, and a wiggled my fingers to find them resting just on the dirty beach of the lake; getting doused with water by waves caused by a wind that seemed to come from nowhere.
After taking a moment to remove my toque, and thoroughly check my head for blood or brains spilling out, I closed my eyes and tried to re-imagine the scene I had just seen.
No dice.
It soon set in on me that I was freezing, and my hand was shaking like mad from the icy water that had thoroughly soaked it and my sleeve, so I finally dusted myself off, and set off slowly—and carefully—back up the hill toward the cabin, and the warm bed that awaited me there.
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.
<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>