Page 5 of Come Back To Me

“Mr Carter?” Here we go again.

Sighing, I stand and stow away my phone in my jeans seeing as I’m not wearing my cut to this,charade. I would have, but the way the doc looked at me the first day I walked into her patient’s room; she practically shat a brick in front of me. I haven’t worn it since.

Doc’s been seeing me for four weeks now. I’m not,notgrateful for her time, Lord knows I’m one of the lucky ones who’sbeen able to see a mental health professional face to face, but as far as I’m concerned, this is a waste of time. This…intervention,might be fucking necessary, but the only intervention Iactuallyneed, is sat at home.

I can picture her now. She’ll be in my clothes, sprawled out across the sofa, book in hand eating some fucked up combination of food that makes me retch. Lately it’s pickles dipped in chocolate or mayo. Or sometimes both. I love her, but it makes me queasy just thinking about it.

I shake away the thought before I gag, and take a seat in the blue suede chair opposite the good doctor.

She rounds her desk pulling out her chair.

These sessions with her are always informal, just like the room we’re in. I’m guessing it’s to help patients relax and spew out their feelings. But every time I come in here, there’s something that always catches my eye.

“The Lady of Shalott,” Doc says making me look at her.

I can feel my forehead scrunch, embarrassed I’ve been caught looking at the giant painting on the wall.

“That’s the Lady of Shalott,” she says again.

I shake my head dismissively, pointlessly adjusting my shirt to distract myself from the woman on the wall looking at me.

“She catches your eye every time, does she not?”

“Uh, yeah. I suppose she does.” My voice is non-enthusiastic, but I sure as shit want to know why I’m intrigued by a bloody picture.

“She was imprisoned,” Doc says turning to look up at it. “Her situation is like that of many individuals who struggle to step out of their comfort zone to experience life to its fullest.”

I look at Doc who’s clearly trying to tell me something, then up at the lady wearing white. She sits in a boat on a lake. With long red hair hanging down her front, she looks like a hippie, although the date inscribed at the bottom says 1888, so she can’tbe. She’s pale, standing out against the dark background of reeds and dark woods that surround her. She looks lost. Broken, maybe.

“Dreams come to existence through the chances you take without letting doubt and fear get in the way.”

The room falls silent.Shit. I heard two words. Fear and doubt. “Right,” I say, locking eyes with Doc in a hope that we can get this show on the road.

“Three things, Mr Carter, go.”

I nod my understanding as Doc sits on the chair behind her desk. “My girlfriend, my unborn child and my club.”Myclub.

Doc looks up over the rim of her glasses. “Good. And the other three things?”

Again I nod, understanding that every session starts the same way; state three things I love and three things I would change. She already knows what I’m going to say. “Me, myself and I.”

As predicted, she looks up at me again, this time removing her glasses and placing them on the notebook she has with my name on it. “Mr Carter—”

“—Please, call me Dean.” Not Daddy.

“Fine. Dean.” Doc sits back in her chair, thinking. “Why do you think you always say me, myself and I?”

Easy. Because if I could change what I do, I would. But I can’t, so… “Because it’s true.” I do bad shit, have done bad shit, and will continue to do bad shit until all the other shit goes away.

“You think your partner would want you to change?”

My eyes meet with the doc’s. No, she wouldn’t. So actually, perhaps Mads needs to be the one sat in here because clearly, she is the one with the problem; giving her love to a man who was set on destruction. Totally undeserving.

Was?Notis?

Progress?

“You think you’re undeserving of her love?”

---