Moonshine(33)

When it was his turn to speak, he looked straight ahead. “Fag,” he said loudly. “That word hurts the worst. Being gay is hard enough. I don’t like that label.”

He’s gay. How did I not know that he was gay? I’m pretty sure that I would notice something like that. No one else seemed to be as shocked as I was. The doctor nodded and everyone else acted like it was no big thing. I mean I guess it is no big thing, but I had been worried about him touching me. This makes a big difference. He finally turned to look at me and it was most likely because I was staring. I didn’t want to. I just couldn’t help it. I was trying to put the pieces together in my head. I hadn’t known very many people who were gay, or at least not that I know of. He wasn’t any different than the boys I would hang out with at school. The only difference was that he dressed better, but that wasn’t a red flag. I asked myself if it bothered me, and the answer was no. I didn’t care that he was gay and I would never use that word to describe him. One of these days when I feel comfortable enough I’ll him that he isn’t different. I’ll him that the one word I would use to describe him is friend. Even if the words hot and gorgeous pop into my head.

I smiled at him briefly, but he looked so sad. He was hurting and I did the one thing that I could think of to make it better. I took his hand. As hard as it was for me, I owed him as much. He had been there for me with no questions asked. It was the least that I could do. I squeezed his hand hard. I’m not sure if it was to reassure him or to keep control of myself. It was the perfect gesture because his face relaxed and he looked at me with a knowing look. Then he brushed his thumb lightly over my hand and we sat like that for the rest of the session. It was nice.

Immediately after class I had to meet with the doctor for my single session. Bradley said that he would save me a seat at lunch and I waved him goodbye.

Doctor Norman Greene was the name on the gold plate hanging outside of his office. I’d heard them address him in group as Doctor G and I wondered what his real name was. I knocked on the door and he called for me to enter. It looked exactly how I thought it would. The space was small and held several shelves that were filled floor to ceiling with books. There was also a couch. I have never been inside of a physiatrist’s office, but I assumed couches were a necessity.

“Come on in and have a seat. We will get started just as soon as I put away this stack of papers. I promise you that in my brain I am organized. Don’t judge me by my desk.” He stepped out from behind his desk and took his seat in the arm chair in front of the couch. He had his legal pad in hand. “All right now. You can have a seat right here on the couch.”

When I took my spot he got right to the subject. He was so fast I didn’t even have time to blink.

“You are here with us because you tried to commit suicide and you failed. Actually, if I’m reading this correctly you almost succeeded but were rescued by someone. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s start from the beginning. Tell me everything.”

“It started with the accident, but I don’t want to talk about the day. Ever.”

“At some point you’ll have to talk about it in order to heal. I promise you, it will get easier every time. I spoke with Gerry and she gave me the list of medication that you’re taking. I see that you’re taking something for anxiety and something to help you sleep per the hospital. What kind of pills were you taking at the time of your most recent incident?”

“I was on pain pills from my wreck, anxiety pills, and sleeping pills.”

“I see. How often are you suffering from the anxiety and do you have full blown attacks?’

“Yes. I have the attacks a lot, several times a day actually. The pills help me.”

“I will allow you to continue taking the pills for the anxiety until you can learn better how to control them yourself. If we do things right we can have you completely off your medications in the ninety days.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I saw that.” He tapped his pen on his notepad. “I’m serious. You can get better, if you want to. Now, let’s start talking. I know that it’ll be hard for you, but it’ll help. I won’t judge you. I won’t ask you to share every detail. Just tell me where all of this started.”

“I haven’t said it out loud to anyone, not even myself.”

“That’s fine. You don’t even have to say it now, but getting it off your chest will help your mind rest. Sometimes relieving the weight from your chest is a miracle worker all in itself.”