Page 34 of Unhinged

“Good morning, Simone,” Dr. Abramson interrupts, and I slam the brakes on imagining this nameless hottie pounding my asshole.

I clear my throat and smile. “Good morning.”

Going to a filing cabinet, she says, “I see you’ve met Elijah.” Elijah. A hot name to go with him. “I told him to welcome you with open arms.” An open fly would’ve been better.

Her red flowy skirt and white blouse with roses remind me of a Mexican restaurant hostess. “Yes. He’s been very nice.” He’d be nicer on his knees, eating me out.

“Good. Let’s get you settled. Follow me.” Her smile doesn’t quit, and I wonder if I should smile that much. Smiling used to come so easily for me.

Following Dr. Abramson down a hall, I smile again at Elijah, who is obviously checking me out. As I leave, he says, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Simone.”

I lightly lick my bottom lip as I smile. “It could be.”

Elijah’s mouth drops open, and I again imagine spreading my legs and creaming his mouth instead of dry-humping my fingers.

Maybe this internship won’t be so bad.

By Friday, I grasp the gist of my duties here. Taking notes, stuffing envelopes, grabbing coffee, and typing notes after a session, which I don’t attend. When I do see Dr. Abramson, she’s flustered or distracted. Despite that, she always smiles at me, followed by a slew of niceties. In the meantime, I peruse dating sites, as I can’t spend my day at Elijah’s counter. He may be a dud, anyway.

Still, Elijah and I often exchange innuendos and lingering looks. I’m not sure why we haven’t taken it further yet, at least getting his number. I’m usually restrained to a point, but not this much when I like a guy. I’m no slouch, and I’m not shy—a trait I share with Finn and one of my half-sisters, Chrissie. But now I hesitate because stupid me thought sex was the way to a man’s heart. Turns out it’s only a way to his cumshot. Nothing more. Forever less.

Getting up from the table that serves as my desk in the corner of Dr. Abramson’s office, I go to the reception area, seeing Elijah with Cynthia, a nurse, and Jessie, another receptionist. Going into the room and behind the reception desk, I see Elijah joking with Cynthia and Jessie. As soon as I enter, the bitches stop talking, hurling a haughty stare at my tits while Elijah spins his chair to face me. “Hey there, Simone. What’s up?”

Ignoring the ice princesses, I come up with a half-hearted response. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Huddled at Jessie’s side of the counter she shares with Elijah, Cynthia whispers shit to Jessie like I’m the ugly new kid in class. Cynthia is zooming toward Medicare eligibility, and Jessie cannot be mistaken for anything younger than fifty. If so, she needs a plastic surgeon on retainer. And she’s way past the age to wear a graying braid wrapped on top of her head. Does either think they have a chance in hell with Elijah? That’s twisted and delusional. Their sagging tits and soggy asses are the stuff of nightmares on crack.

“Right?”

Looking away from the backs of the heifers, I see Elijah staring at me expectantly. “Uh, what?”

He laughs as he strokes his blue pin-stripe tie, studying my purple boucle sweater. “Nothing ever goes on in this town.”

“I agree. I need…something to do.”

The bloated toads recommence whispering in the corner. I hate letting them ding my self-confidence. I used to score a date with a guy while on a date with a guy. I was the Steph Curry of stealthy dating maneuvers. Now, I even doubt my ability to charm Elijah and coax his hand up my sweater.

Elijah’s eyes roam over me, and it encourages me some, but not enough to convince me to take action. He bites his lip and says, “So, I was wondering—”

A throat clears behind me, and I turn to see Dr. Abramson. “Simone, can you do some filing in my office for me while I make some phone calls?”

I smile. “Of course, Dr. Abramson.” Turning to follow her to the hallway, I swear I hear the cunts say something about deep throating. If only. I was pretty good at that too.

In her office, I see stacks of folders on my table. As mundane as this task is, at least it’ll give me something to do. Dr. Abramson says, “You are a godsend, helping me with all of this filing. I have such a backlog because I don’t have the time.”

“I’m glad to help.” Dr. Abramson has been super nice to me, and I admire her work ethic. She never ducks out early or complains about any patients. There are two other psychologists in this office, Dr. Stanley and Dr. Jenkewitz. I’ve never talked to them, but I have heard them whine about getting paid to hear other people whine. And they’re always out of the office by three o’clock sharp.

Dr. Abramson ends a call, and as I look up from a folder, I see her staring at me. She smiles and says, “I want to know more about you. What do your parents do?” No one has cared before to ask.

“My mother is a dentist, and my father is a deadbeat.”

“Oh?”

I roll my eyes. “He’s an orthodontist. We’re not close.” But he keeps tabs on me.

Dr. Abramson frowns as she picks up her coffee mug. “That’s terrible. I’m sorry to hear that.”

I shrug. “My stepdad has been more of my dad than my father ever was. Jack is an architect. I want him to build me a mansion someday.”

---