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Talk To Me In early May, I get a panicked phone call from Linda twenty minutes before I’m scheduled to pick Alice up from her office. I leave work and drive over immediately, arriving ten minutes later to find the therapist  slumped on the couch in her waiting room, with the inner and outer doors to her office wide open. She sits up abruptly when I enter.

“She stormed out of here twenty minutes ago” Linda blurts out, “She punched the emergency callbox in the hallway and disappeared. She was in a mood when she got here. Like really agitated. I got her settled down enough to talk and asked a couple of questions, then she just lost it.” Linda runs her hands through her spiky hair and exhales heavily.

“The estrogen can bring emotions closer to the surface, that’s one of it’s side effects.” I tell her. “What were you talking about when she ran out of here?”

“I’d asked her what was bothering her, if it was school or home, or if it was this girl thing, if she just wanted things to go back to the way they were. I wanted her to know that it was ok, if she did.”

Immediately, I know that last piece was enough to set her off all on its own. I also know that I need to go and find her, but I’m having a hard time disengaging from Linda, who looks absolutely crushed. Read the rest of this entry »

The Medicine Cabinet

some words …

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… stick with you.

I opened Alice’s dresser drawer this morning looking for socks and found instead a virtual pharmacy. I searched her footlocker for more drugs, and found only socks. (Feb. 2007)

These still strike me as darkly funny, perhaps because I was so sure of what I would find as I undid that latch and lifted that lid. I remain surprised to this day that there was nothing more nefarious or curious than a clean, neatly paired tube socks in the footlocker on that morning.