He saw her come in the building and began to set up the office. She peeked in after his secretary buzzed her through. He waited for her to settle. She had been coming long enough that he almost enjoyed her idiosyncrasies: moving the tissue box so it sat squarely on the table, adjusting the pillows for a pattern, holding the one that didn't match.
Nina sighed and rested her hands in her lap. It was the signal to begin. He smiled slightly.
"So Nina, how've you been sleeping?" Dr. Evan James began to flip through his papers. He studied them, clicking his pen to write.
"Eh. The same I guess." she sighed again, her fingers reaching into her thick dark hair and twirling. "The dreams are getting more vivid. I can almost see his face." She bit her lip, trying to recall a mystery man.
"Is this a good thing? The right thing?" he scribbled.
"I want to know- to be sure."
"Know what Nina? They are dreams. You are pushing to reach for someone that doesn't exist."
"Evan, they are real. It's MY home. Look at these bruises. Last time, I fought back and I hurt him." She twisted to show him deep, dark streaks down her arms and her legs.
"Hurt him?" he paused.
"Yeah. I bit him. My jaw is still sore." She smiled secretly.
"Nina, you are blurring reality with these dreams and stunting your progress."
"Bullshit Evan! Bruises! I struggled with someone IN-MY-HOUSE. Somebody is attacking me, terrifying me, destroying me! I'm NOT imagining it." her voice pitched up and got louder.
"While you're sleeping~" Evan's tone was even and patient. "There is no physical evidence. If your dreams are so horrifying, couldn't you be moving around and injuring yourself? What about your bedside table? Your headboard? You're reaching out, fighting off...against nothing but furniture. Night Terrors Nina. I've told you again and again. I'm your friend..."
"I don't pay you to be my friend." she mumbled angrily, flouncing back in the overstuffed chair and squeezing the pillow.
" Nina, I've known you since college. You came to me. Remember? You wanted the nightmares to stop. Right? What do you pay me for if you refuse to let me help you?"
She fired him a look drenched in frustration and contempt. They went through this regularly: her belief that someone was stalking, terrorizing her and her refusal to comprehend it was simply her mind. She'd been like this since he met her. They had a couple of classes together and lived down the hall from each other in the residence hall. For five years they had partied and studied together. Just last year, she had come to him sheepishly seeking a solution to her sleeplessness and feelings of paranoia. He quickly accepted.
He asked her if she'd read the article he'd given her last time. She snapped that she had, but he knew she was lying. He wrote some more in his notes and clicked his pen.
"How many hours this week Nina?"
"It's only Wednesday." her voice was small and childish.
He waited.
"Maybe four." she pouted.
He studied her. The pretty girl slumped sadly, her exhaustion hanging from her like a wet sweater. "Your meds?" but he knew the answer.
"Evan, they affect my memory. I don't like them."
"I prescribe them to help you sleep and decrease these hallucinations." he clicked sharply. Nina stiffened feeling the tension rise.
"Evan, what about the cigarettes on the grass? What about the cup left in my kitchen? You're dismissing again"
It was his turn to sigh. He once again pointed out she lived on a busy street where people walked dogs, or that it could simply have been discarded from a passing car. The cup? Who hasn't poured something for themselves, been distracted and then returned to forget they had gotten it in the first place? It didn't equal a mad stalker.
She hunched in her chair frowning and sulking.
"Nina?" he was losing her desire to communicate.
"What?" she huffed.
"What are you thinking?"
"I need to find a new doctor."
Evan laughed. "You don't really want to do that." He crossed his legs and put his paper down.
"Then why do THESE feel and look so real?" She waved her arms and legs like an angry puppet. He covered his mouth to stifle the snicker. "Why does my body remember pain? SHOW trauma? I can't do this anymore Evan. " She was pleading now.
He wrote the prescription and continued to talk. She half listened.
"They won't work." she said sadly and left feeling discouraged.
Moving to the window, he watched her walk to her car.
"Yes they will." he thought rubbing his arm. Evan noticed he'd begun to bleed through the bandage again. "They always do." his giggle was high and excited. They blurred her memory just enough so that she wasn't certain; yet. It kept him in control; but her determination was becoming tedious. In college it was a matter of slipping it in her drink. Now he simply wrote her a script and she took them on her own.
He pulled the notebook pages carelessly from their pad and read the one word he'd written countless ways for over an hour : bitch. Wednesday? She'd head to the gym, then to get her dry cleaning. It was right next to the store, so she'd more than likely stop and pick up some things. He checked his watch. He would make a couple of stops of his own. Reaching into his desk, he plucked a cigarette from the pack with his lips, lit it, inhaled deeply. He shuffled papers and loaded his briefcase to leave for the night, checking once more for the knife he'd recently purchased.
Nina was right. They couldn't do this anymore.
It's a little different than my usual endings. I fought with this one a lot. I couldn't find the right direction and writer's block held strong for a couple of days; but here we are and overall, it's not bad; not great, but not bad.
I hope you liked it. Thanks for coming. I appreciate you stopping by to see me.
