Unspoken Pleasure

"I cannot say for certain," Dr. Pulisic replied, running his hand over his bald pate. It was a nervous habit, he knew, but that didn't mean he could stop doing it. "There are some traces, some of your vitals are a bit strange, but nothing that points to a specific culprit. We also tested the medication that Christine provided. There's nothing in there that should be having this effect on you, but this is the risk with taking any medication that hasn't been prescribed by a doctor." Here he glared over at Christine -- she should have known better. To her credit, she seemed suitably chastened.

"So that's it?" Lexi asked, "It's just gone?"

"Well, clearly the effect of the medication is ongoing," Dr. Pulisic said, "Regardless of whether or not the chemical is still in your bloodstreams."

"But there aren't any other consequences," Christine said, "I mean, long term."

"As I said, some of you have some strange blood test results that I have to assume are connected to the medication you took, but nothing that I can confirm with confidence. There's no finding that's consistent across all of you however, and I have no reason to think it's anything harmful. I would ask that you come back to retake the tests and be sure, however."

"Well that's good news, I guess," Austin said.

"In the meantime, however, we have to focus on your current problem which at this point is behavioral. I've spoken to my colleague who interviewed you, Dr. Kim, and we've agreed on a course of action going forward. You need to go back to living your normal lives."

The family all looked around nervously. But, pointedly, not at each other. Dr. Pulisic smiled. "I don't mean right away. This has clearly had in incredible impact on all of you. It's a trauma, like PTSD, and you need to work slowly to make incremental change in your lives. Build yourselves back up again."

To Dr. Pulisic's delight, the family was all nodding along with him. He'd expected an argument, but at this point he was pretty sure if he told them he was going to give them electric shocks they'd agree to that, too. They all seemed so defeated. It made him feel even more depressed than before. He couldn't wait to go home and hug his own family, this reminder of the darker fates this world could provide.

The Campbells were legitimately nice people, successful, who'd found themselves in a nightmare from which they could not escape. What had they done to deserve this? Dr. Pulisic couldn't say. It was easier to talk them through the next steps than consider the implications.

"First of all, I want you all to take it easy on yourselves," Dr. Pulisic continued, "No one here is at fault. You've all undergone a tremendous amount of stress and you should feel proud of yourselves for coping with that, not ashamed. Now, I want you to go home and take it easy. If you need notes from me exempting you from work or school, I will write up whatever you need. Not to worry, I will not disclose what happened -- only that you've undergone something very traumatic and that it's medically necessary for you to stay home for a while."

Again, the whole family nodded. They seemed, if not relieved, then at least less miserable than they were before he'd started talking.

"Start finding small ways to enjoy life again. Go for a walk outside and enjoy the fresh air. Do a chore -- one simple thing like going shopping or doing the dishes -- and let yourself feel a real sense of accomplishment for completing it. Get a good night's sleep every night, eat healthy, and stay away from alcohol or drugs. Does that sound OK?"

"I mean, it all sounds fine," James said, "It always sounds fine. But then I... We get into these situations where everything feels out of control."

"Don't start all at once," Dr. Pulisic said, "Take little steps. Small things you know you can accomplish. Then try something a little bit harder each time. It's like physical therapy, but for your mind. If you have ACL surgery, you don't go out and run a mile the next day. You start slow, with rest and then careful stretching. You start walking, then running. One day you get up and it's like your leg was never injured. So, it will be with you. With this. But only if you take care of each other, respect yourselves and your family, and work to make things better."

There was a long silence. Finally, Molly mumbled, "Thank you, Dr. Pulisic."

"Yes, thank you, Josip," Christine said. The rest of the family said their thanks. They slowly stood and gathered their things.Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

"I believe in you," Dr. Pulisic said, giving each of them a handshake and a warm pat on the shoulder as they filed out of his office, "You can do this. When I see you next, you'll be well on the way to living your lives the way you were meant to. I promise."

*

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It was weird for Austin to return home. They had only been away for a few days, but it felt like a lifetime. So much in their lives had changed, how was the house exactly the same? The furniture, the lighting, the slight scuff of the carpet on his shoes. There was a smell to the place, something that Austin could only associate with home.

Through unspoken agreement, family marched up the stairs from the garage, went past the kitchen, and settled into the living room couches. It was nighttime and the rest of the world seemed dead asleep. No one bothered to turn on the lights.

One by one, each family member took out their individual cell phones and made a call. Austin told his roommates that he'd be staying back at home for a while. They were surprisingly chill with it. They didn't even ask why, just said they'd see him whenever.

Austin called out of work, as well. He overheard his parents doing the same thing. It was weird, the whole family sitting there, each on their own individual cell phone. No one willing to look at the other, all having the same conversation. "Thank you for your concern ... Yes, I'm fine... I appreciate your understanding ... Yes, please keep in touch."

Once the calls were finished, the family shuffled off to their individual bedrooms. Austin noticed his father, however, turned down to the finished basement rather than the bed he shared with his wife. There was a fold out couch down there but still -- oof. Then again, Austin couldn't imagine being around anyone at that moment, so maybe it was more protective than punishment.

Austin found his room still decorated as he'd left it after high school: tiny twin bed with a navy, denim bedspread. Russell Wilson poster on the wall. He opened the nightstand drawer and found a stack of unused condoms. He started to laugh, then nearly tipped over to tears. Eventually he changed for bed and lay down, as if sleep was anywhere nearby.

That was where Austin still found himself at 2am: in his childhood bed, a nightstand full of condoms, staring up at the ceiling, still covered in glow-in-the-dark stars from his school's eighth grade trip to the Science Center. Austin usually slept naked, but that night he felt safer in a t-shirt and flannel pj pants. Except the room was also hot as hell and so he lay there, sweating, desperate to take his clothes off.