Page 23 of Hello Handsome
“It means we’re friends,” he said, a faltering smile on his lips. “And you’ll tell me when you’re ready for more.”
14
GRAY
It was too easy,going to Aggie’s house and hearing her say she just wanted to be friends.
Sure, part of me was disappointed. But a bigger part wasrelieved. That panic attack had shaken me to the core. My body had protested the idea of being with someone new in a way I’d never seen before.
It had Fletcher worried too.
He asked if I would come into the office the next week for a follow-up appointment, just to make sure everything really was okay.
So now I sat in the exam room with him while he read through my blood work and ran another ECG on the machine in his office. He even did a chest X-ray just to double check but came to the same conclusion.
He pulled up a spinney chair–the kind he and his brothers loved to play on as kids–and sat across from me with a look in his eyes that saidwe need to talk.
I braced myself for his words.
“I’m worried about your mental health.”
I raised my eyebrows. “My mental health?” I echoed.
“Yes.” He nodded slowly. “Dad, I know people from your generation have a lot of opinions about mental healthcare–”
I waved my hand at him. “I get it, son, it’s a different time.”
Fletcher nodded, seeming relieved. “After such a strong episode, and knowing that you probably have untreated PTSD from Mom’s passing, I think you should consider some type of intervention.”
My mind flashed to the interventions you saw on TV, the ones where they forced addicts to get help. “You’re gonna get your brothers to gang up on me?”
Fletcher chuckled a little. “No, patient confidentiality, remember?”
“Right.” I mulled over his words. “So what were you thinking?”
“I’m going to prescribe you some anxiety medication. I don’t think you need something to take every day, just when you have another episode that strong.”
My stomach turned at the idea of a drug that addled my mind. It scared me, if I was being honest. So I asked him about the side effects, told him what I was worried about. And he helped me understand it would be like a Band-Aid for when I was bleeding, not something to prevent the cut.
So I agreed to pick up the meds, knowing I could choose to take them or not, depending on how I felt. At the memory of a panic attack, some help didn’t seem too bad.
“And I think you should start talking to someone, regularly.”
“I talk to you all the time.”
Fletcher gave me an admonishing look. “A counselor, Dad. And Jack doesn’t count.”
I chuckled at that. “He could have been a good one in another life.”
Fletcher didn’t disagree. He just said, “There are some great online options so you don’t have to worry about drivingto Roderdale. You can talk to them on your phone or your computer.”
I never got my laptop out, but my phone was pretty handy. “Really? That would have been great for when you boys were kids.”
Fletcher nodded in agreement. “It’s helping a lot of people. And I think it could help you too. I went ahead and scheduled your first appointment with an older man I think you’d like. Can you do it? For me?” he asked.
“And I could just do it on my phone?”
“Yep. You’ll get a link to the video call, and that’s it. Easy.”
