Page 23 of Doctor Grump

And it all started with his eyes.

Until the heat in his eyes was suddenly gone, as if doused in ice by sheer willpower.

“Fine,” he said coldly. “I’ll have dinner with her tomorrow. But for now, leave me alone.”

10

IAN

The next day wasn’t any easier than the previous one.

I was awoken at the ass crack of dawn by the sound of my phone ringing incessantly.

I was a light sleeper, and the military had given me pretty adept reflexes, so even while still half asleep, I grabbed the phone off the dresser and barked, “What?”

“Um, Dr. Graham,” said a thin, reedy voice on the phone. “It’s me, James.”

“James,” I echoed with an internal sigh, nearly regretting giving the man my phone number. It was part of the way I ran my practice. I handled a lot of delicate patients, so I always made sure they had my contact information and could call me any time they were facing a crisis. James was one of my patients who was nearly always facing a crisis.

“What’s going on, James?”

“Oh, not much,” he responded, his voice shaking. “It’s just that…well, I think I’m going to kill myself today, and I thought you should know.”

Well, that definitely woke me up.

I sat up, immediately getting out and speaking as I pulled on my shirt.

“Hold on, James. Just walk me through your thought process right now. What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he said. “I was…I was just thinking about it, and I don’t think I should be here anymore. I mean, I don’t remember any reason why I should. I have no one on this earth I mean anything to, I don’t do anything valuable, and to be frank, I don’t even think I want to be here. There’s nothing here for me, and I think it’s time.”

“Where are you, James?” I asked as I jogged down the stairs and grabbed my keys from the hook near the door.

“At home. Listen, I’m not calling so that you can talk me out of it or anything. I’m just calling to let you know because you said I should.”

“Yes. And you did well by doing that. But I’m going to need you to explain it to me some more so I can understand. Tell me about yesterday. What did you do?”

As James started his explanation, describing a rather mundane and depressing day, I continued asking more questions, even about seemingly insignificant details to get a feel of where his mind was at. For now, I didn’t raise my voice or give orders. Instead, I maintained a harmless, understanding tone. The main aim right now was to keep him on the phone until I could get there in person. I already used my second phone to notify the police, who were on their way to him. I texted a shortcode to a friend of mine on the force. They would bring a single cop car, and they knew well enough not to have sirens activated so as not to alert James of their presence. Anything like that could trigger him, and we had to be very careful.

It wasn’t the first time James attempted suicide, and the fact that he called me before rather than after downing a bunch of pills and waiting for it to act, was a testament to how far we had come with treatment. James was a severe agoraphobic who lived in isolation and whose OCD was exacerbated by the abuse he had faced in the past. We had been working together for months, and he had made significant progress. He now had good days mixed in with bad days.

But yesterday had just been an extremely bad day.

I arrived at James’ small apartment complex before the police got there. I didn’t want to wait to be buzzed in, so I went in through the back door. It had a busted lock, and I easily pushed it open and jogged up the stairs until I got to James’ door.

“James,” I called out when I got there. “Open the door.”

“There’s no point, Dr. Graham,” he responded on the phone, his voice sounding tear-filled. “I don’t even know why I keep trying. Yesterday, I tried. I swear to God I tried so hard to…to go out or live. I did all the exercises you gave me, but then I opened the door and took a step outside and had a panic attack. And, of course, my next-door neighbor was there. I told you about her, didn’t I? Grace. She was there with her boyfriend, and they saw the whole thing. She made him help me back into my house. How humiliating. If I can’t even walk out of my home, what hope do I have?”

“James—"

“Last night,” he swallowed. “After I calmed down, I went to the window to see if maybe I could convince myself to try again. There was a homeless man down there just by my street. He was playing an instrument or something, I couldn’t really tell, but I think he was playing something. Lots of people were walking past him and not even paying attention, or some avoided him altogether, but that didn’t stop him. He still kept on playing, and whenever anyone gave him a dollar, he would stop and wave at them so happily. That man…that’s someone who deserves to live. He deserves to have this space and get those government checks and this apartment. Me…I’m just a waste of energy and….”

“And if you die, that man outside still won’t have a home,” I said. “He will still be in the same position he is in right now. You don’t know what he’s been through, what led him there. Your death will not make things better for him.”

“It won’t make things worse either.”

I decided to change tactics. “You said your mother risked her life for you. She saved you from your father. How do you think she’ll feel if you go through with this?”

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