The Love Sucks Club(42)
“Are you even willing to entertain the idea that there isn’t something wrong with me?”
She smiles. “Absolutely. Like Agent Mulder, I want to believe. I have an open mind. I am well aware that there are things out there in the universe that I can’t possibly explain. Just let me rule out the ones I can explain and we’ll work on the other options.”
“But if I’ve been having visions since I was a kid...”
“You’ve only been getting dizzy and passing out over the past couple of weeks. That’s what has me worried.”
After poking and prodding me and asking more questions, Dr. B pronounces me free to go.
“Did you find anything out by fondling me or did you just want to make it look like you did something?”
Laughing, she opens the door and waves my file folder at me. “I’ll drop this off at the front desk and they’ll help you schedule your other appointments and tests. We’ll do a follow up when you’re done with all of that.”
“Thanks for listening, Dr. B.”
“Anytime, Dana.”
She leaves the room and I sit for a minute, staring at the wall. I have to admit that I probably should go see the neurologist and get these other tests. It’s just that I don’t think there is anything wrong with me. Long ago, when I had my first panic attack, I went to the emergency room. I was convinced I was having a heart attack. After countless expensive tests, they determined that there was nothing wrong with me. Nothing. Apparently, I was just having massive chest pain that radiated up my left arm, irregular heartbeats, and an inability to breathe for no reason. It was only through my own research that I chalked it up to panic attacks and since I’ve diagnosed myself, I’ve been able to control them pretty well. It’s only been since the arrival of Esmé that things have gotten so much worse. The dreams of Fran, the fainting spells, the nightmares, and the panic attacks. There has to be a connection.
At the front desk, I tell the receptionist that I have to check my calendar and then I’ll call to schedule my other appointments. Sam stands when I enter the waiting area and we walk out to the car.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, she glances at me. “Well?”
“Dr. Brawley says I am in perfect health and everyone should stop worrying.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“Totally.”
“So what comes next?”
Grinning, I point out a couple of wild pigs rolling in the mud in front of the business complex.
Sam laughs. “Gotta love the island. It’s the perfect juxtaposition between feral and industrial.”
“With beautiful beaches.”
“Great food.”
“Gun violence.”
“Drugs.”
“Roaming wildlife.”
We pass the pigs and I call out a hello to them as we drive past. “It would only have been better if they were rolling in the mud outside of the police station.”
“Hey. Some of my best friends are cops.”
“Not island cops.”
“Good point.”
“Anyway, speaking of pigs, my next stop is my house where I will see if my ex has come back.”
“And then?”
“Then I need to talk to Esmé.”
Concentrating on the road, she doesn’t answer for a few minutes. I take the time to stare out the window and try to gather my thoughts. Things got worse for me when Esmé came to town, even before I knew she was here. Why is that? Sam is staring out the windshield, singing along with some country tune on the radio. I wish my life was as simple as hers. Then again, I guess her life isn’t easy, either. Maybe I’d be better off being like Susannah, who always seems to get her way in everything. She never seems unhappy, either. I wonder if she really is happy, though.
“Hey Sam,” I say, punching her in the arm.
“No hitting the driver.” She punches me hard on the thigh.
“Ow, fucker.”
“You had something to say?”
“Do you feel like we ever really know anyone?”
“Maybe not all of their inner workings.... but I feel like I know you very well.”
“I feel as if I haven’t made an effort to get to know my loved ones as well as I should.”
“It isn’t too late.”
Pausing, I look at her out of the corner of my eye. “For some.”
“Maybe it’s a lesson to start paying attention to those who are still in your life.”
“Maybe. Sam. What do you dream about?”
“A bacon double cheeseburger. Want to hit the Grill before I take you home?”
“Totally. I need sustenance to deal with she-who-shall-not-be-named.”
Reaching over, I turn up the radio and lose myself in some song about heartache and tractors as we drive to the Grill.