Abel
“How are you?”
A question that I hate being asked, knowing the answer won’t change anything.
“ Bregando ,” is all I offer, unable to give any clearer of a response.
“I understand you’ve been spending a lot of time with Rosamunde.”
I’ve only just sat down when Dr. Brown says this, and I have no fucking idea what he’s talking about.
“Rose,” he clarifies, flapping his tie straight as he leans back in his seat to look at me.
Realization dawns. Her full name is Rosamunde. It kinda puts the fact that I don’t know much about her into perspective. I nod but don’t speak because as far as I’m concerned, as long as we aren’t killing each other, it’s none of his damn business.
“I just want to make several points before I get on with our session.”
I gesture with my hand for him to continue. It’s not like I can just get up and walk out. I need this asshole in order to get the hell out of here.
He removes his reading glasses and stares at me without blinking. Here he goes with his creepy shit again.
It’s like he can see inside my goddamn head, all the versions of me who live in there.
And that other extra tenant.
Presentau, I could hear mami announce. Vete pa ya .
Except I can’t tell him to leave me alone. Or call him nosey, for that matter. As much as I’m fucking dying to.
“I don’t have to remind you that this isn’t a matchmaking service. This is a respected mental institute where you’re receiving treatment for your mental instability.”
This is where I want to call him out on his bullshit. This is fucking bullshit. We both know I shouldn’t be here. Mami would tell him to come mierda , spitting at his feet.
“ But ,” he says, before I can interrupt, “if we take that completely out of the equation and just factor Ms. Montgomery into this, it would be doomed from the start. Any sort of romance, I mean.”
Yeah, man. I’m not fucking stupid.
Still sucks to hear.
Still doesn’t change the tightness in my chest, knowing that this asshole is telling me to stay away from her.
“You are somewhat defiant. It’s the young man in you. You’ve lived on your own for quite some time and you think you know what’s best. This isn’t something I find to be too troubling. Annoying, certainly. But you aren’t detrimental in your defiance.” He puts his glasses back on and sits back in his squeaky leather chair.
My middle finger is itching to be shoved in this guy’s face over calling me annoying. Pretty sure this isn’t professional. Pretty sure he shouldn’t be talking to me about Rose at all since that violates…some shit. A right I know she has.
“I can’t say the same thing for Rose. She has a complete disregard for authority to the point of sheer aggression. She is a hazard to all and it’s unlikely that any real relationship will be lasting.”
I blink a few times because what the fuck does this even mean for me? I guess he takes my silence as permission to continue.
“She has violent outbursts. Someone interrupted her conversation with another patient and she stabbed her in the arm with a pen. She’s volatile and erratic. Her anger knows no bounds and even the staff have been subjected to her outbursts. On one of her birthdays, she nearly bit off a nurse’s ear after attacking one of our male patients because he sneezed on her. So, you see, whatever you’re building with her can easily sour. And you’d never see it coming, Mr. Cartagena.”
“Rose and I are just friends. And as far she goes, why not have a little faith? Maybe this friendship will help her.” While we are just friends, it feels wrong to paint it as if I don’t want her. I wanted her from the moment I saw her and it sounds fucking idiotic but I’ll probably want her long after I leave here. There’s something about her that draws me in.
She isn’t like any other girl, that’s for sure. But she has a certain substance and class to her. The way she talks, even the way she walks, like she’s walking to somewhere of importance in some beautiful gown, instead of in these shitty hallways with cheap fucking pajamas on. She glides like she comes from money, speaks like she’s college educated, and never slouches when she sits.
She owns this mysterious quality she has and I want nothing more than to figure her out. To know her intimately.
But I can’t even hold her fucking hand here.
“I admire your optimism, , but she’s been my patient for three years. While I’ve never seen her react to anyone the way she has to you, at some point, you will leave our program. I have faith that you’ll move on to better things. But this is Rose’s home. And as long as she shows no improvement, this will remain her home.”
Part of me completely rejects the idea of Rose staying here forever. She should be with the rest of the world, watching movies, listening to music, going on dates, and being as fucking beautiful as she is. “Does she know this?”
“I’ve been explaining this to her. Certainly, that she’s to blame for her current living situation. It’s my hope that this will reroute her way of thinking, get her to take responsibility for her actions, and push her toward better behavior and more self-control. It’s strange because no matter the medication, she doesn’t respond.”
I remain stoic because I don’t want to give away the fact that I know she doesn’t take her medication—and neither do I, for that matter. She’s shared all her tips for survival in Purgatory with me and I’ll take them to the grave before I ever let them turn Rose into a walking corpse like the rest of these people.
“I typically don’t like to talk about patients with other patients, but I figured you should know this, going in.”
I don’t ask him what got her here because I want her to tell me. She deserves to be the only person to tell me, just like I was the only person to tell her what I know about how the hell I got stuck here.
There’s just some shit you gotta hear from the horse’s mouth.
I’m still gutted by the idea of Rose living and dying here. She’s only nineteen. She hasn’t had a legal drink, will never get married and have children. What kind of bullshit is this?
What the hell did she do?
Dr. Brown asks me something, pulling me from my thoughts and I grimace at the fact that we still have an hour left to talk about me and my fucking feelings.
Great.
“They finally faxed over Dr. Levine’s notes. She suggests you might’ve had a bit of a schizophrenic episode, for lack of better terms.”
“Oh?” I sit back and cross my ankle over my knee. These tighty whities are so damn uncomfortable, but I’m not about to let this man know while he sits here and tries to dissect me. Good luck, motherfucker.
“She also seems to think this is something you may be susceptible to again, should you be in an extremely stressful environment.”
My ankle starts to shake, and his eyes follow the movement for a moment.
“Does any of this sound feasible, ?”
My shrug is all he gets.
“I mean, her notes are pretty thorough for only having sat with you for a little over an hour. She mentions homelessness, a situation that could certainly be considered high-stress. There are also some physical indications you’ve given. A lack of eye contact, on any one thing or even on her, jumpiness,” he says, shuffling between papers as he adjusts his glasses and squints, “suggesting that you may believe there is another person or entity in the room with the two of you.”
“Now, I never said that, Dr. Brown,” I tell him as I set both feet on the ground and lean forward, pointing at her notes. “I never said any of that shit.”
He places his hands up, as if we’ve agreed on some sort of white flag.
“Schizophrenic? You guys are really taking this shit that far?”
“, I just want to know what’s going on. And I need you to be honest with me if you want to get out of here. Many people go on to live almost-normal lives with schizophrenia. I don’t want you to see this as the beginning of the end but the beginning of you getting the help you need to get healthy again, okay?”
El principio del fin, I remind myself.
My nod is apparently all this fucking guy needs to continue as I stare out the window, wishing I could be out there, feeling anything other the heat of mami’s stare at my back.
“Tell me about your mother, .”
If she were really here, she probably would kill you and then yell at me to clean up the mess she made.