Page 52 of Curtain Call
“Tell me about your week, Riley?”
In every meeting for the past two weeks, Dr. Rick started the session the same way; tell me about your week. How’s your weight? Have you had any problems eating? Blah, blah, blah. He has Riley’s chart so Riley figured he could just open and read it. No use for small talk. Riley always responds the same way.
“It was fine, thanks.”
“Talk about what made it fine.”
This is the part where Dr. Rick takes his glasses off and sets them down on his notepad. It’s a dramatic effect to make sure his patients know he is concerned and really in tune with this session. He’s not. Riley’s not. But these sessions are mandatory as part of the treatment here.
Riley is considered a level two patient since he is not malnourished and only needs to attend these sessions twice a week. Dr. Rick gets paid either way so Riley figures he can just come, hang out, check this off the to-do list and move on with the rest of his day. He gets more out of the group sessions anyway because after listening to the other patients talk, Riley realizes he isn’t so bad after all.
“You know Riley,” he begins while removing his glasses and Riley grins, “I can’t help you unless you open up more in these sessions.” He sets his glasses down on the table that is separating him from Riley. Huh. Riley notices that Dr. Rick didn’t put the notepad down this time.
“You know why I’m here, doc,” Riley responds a little more sternly than planned but the point’s made, “What more do you want me to say?”
“Yes, I do know why you’re here. I want to know more about why you checked yourself in.”
Oh shit. Riley forgot it wasn’t mandatory that he was here. He could check out at any time. His family was concerned and recommended it, but it was his choice to pack a bag and actually come to the Cape. He thought it would be more like a resort. Walks in the cool air, lounge around and meet a few people, talk some stuff out, and then go home in a few weeks. In a few weeks, he will be through this ordeal with Colin and back in New York City for good.
This is Riley’s way of escaping reality. It’s what Riley does when things don’t go as planned. Or when he wants to self-sabotage the good things because for some reason, he doesn’t believe he deserves them.
“Doc,” Riley finally whispered through a cracked voice, but he couldn’t continue speaking.
Riley knew that facing reality would break him.
“Take your time, Riley. Just as you would do in your acting career to master a character. Take your time so that you master your own self as a way for me to know you better. Then I will be able to scaffold you.”
Dr. Rick clicked his pen as if Riley was just going to make some big revelation, and Dr. Rick needed to write down his every word.
But all Riley could get out through his low voice while staring at the ugly blue carpet was, “When does it stop hurting?”
Riley took the pin out that was holding the floodgates closed and let the tears stream down his face creating a wet spot on his jeans. He was only able to speak single words as complete sentences were scrambled in his mind.
“Colin. Theater. Symphony. Kids. Auction. Jax. Mac. Broadway.”
Each word is a memory. Each memory, a tear. The spot on his jeans widened.
Riley would give anything to go back to the beginning of December when all was perfect. He and Colin were roaming around Rockport, hanging out like old times, lunch dates, and teasing each other along with stolen kisses. He misses Colin’s soft lips. But Riley also knows it wasn’t real. Colin just walked out without a fight. Grabbed his things and walked.
Besides, it was a fantasy Riley created in his head, not a Hallmark movie where the big-city girl goes to a small town, falls in love, and leaves everything behind to be with the love of her life. Remind you, she was only there for three days because her car mysteriously had trouble. That is not reality. A life with Colin; not reality. Riley’s reality is that he is in New York or traveling the country while Colin’s life is in Massachusetts.
“Have you tried writing a letter?”
Riley tried to come up with some bullshit answer he thought would please Dr. Rick. As he bounces ideas through his mind, all he could say is, “I wouldn’t have the strength to send them.”
“Then maybe you could write the letters in a journal. That way, you can express what you’re feeling without the panic of sending them. It would be very cathartic, and I believe you will start feeling better when you get some of this pent-up energy off your chest.”
“A journal, huh?”
Dr. Rick stands and walks over to a black oversized, distressed bookcase with cabinets on the bottom. He opens a door and pulls out a rainbow spiral notebook.
“Here, try writing in this.” Dr. Rick hands Riley the notebook along with a new pen he stuck in its spine. “It can be as simple as one word or as long as a detailed account of your day. You can write in complete sentences or draw stick figures. It is a way for you to express yourself and there is no right or wrong way to do that. The only thing I ask is that you stay true to yourself. Don’t fill it full of happy thoughts and fake nonsense. Nobody is going to read this but you.”
“Thanks, for this, and –,“ Riley says while pressing the notebook to his chest and motioning his head to the side as if referencing his actions before.
“We call that a breakthrough,” Dr. Rick grinned. “You’re on the right path Riley, and I’m going to ask you to do something.”
“Ok,” Riley looked with knitted brows at Dr. Rick.
