6. The Honeymoon Phase

Is there anything better than the honeymoon phase of a relationship?  It is complete and total happiness pumping through your veins 24 hours a day.  You think about what your special person is doing, what they are thinking, what they are eating.  The honeymoon period is probably better than actual true love.  Maybe not.  I don’t think I’ve ever really experienced true love.

Treatment has been going well.  I’ve been sleeping with Simon for two weeks now and every appointment I have with him, we just end up ripping each other’s clothes off.  It’s the honeymoon phase where we just can’t keep our hands (or in my case, hand) off each other.  Candice is still staying at my house.  We haven’t talked about that night since I shut the door in her face, but I also haven’t been eating myself.  Since I started seeing Simon, we’ve been going out almost every night and he takes me out to a nice dinner every time.  No need to supplement.  But mostly I’m just happy.  I haven’t been this happy in a long time.  I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.

My appointment today is at 2 pm.  I used to go once a week at 11 am, but now we moved it to four times a week in the afternoon.  Like I said, these appointments are fun for both of us.  Last night, I bought some Victoria’s Secret and can’t wait to show him.  That shit’s expensive, so he better like it because he’s gonna be seeing it a bunch from now on.  

When I got to the office, there was a girl sitting in waiting area.  She looked to be in her early 20s, with blond hair and very pretty.  I recognized her from a couple auditions a few years ago.  She probably got the roles and that’s why she has money to see a shrink.  Hopefully it’s because she tried to kill herself.  If she got those roles over me I hope she tried to kill herself. 

I sat across from her and pulled out my phone to look busy.  I noticed she was looking at me and the one time I glanced up and made eye contact, she nailed me, “Are you seeing Simon?”  Oh God.  Now I have to talk to you?  And besides, that’s none of your business bitch!  You can’t ask someone if they’re seeing a psychiatrist.  “I am.  At two,” I said.  I looked back at my phone, but that didn’t stop her.  “No,” she said, “are you sleeping with him?”  This bitch’s about to get a crutch in the face, “Excuse me?” I said, appalled.  “You heard me,” she said bobbing her head side to side and gritting her teeth.  I rolled my eyes but I was seriously ready to beat her ass.  “That’s none of your business,”  I said.  She chuckled, “Wow...I never thought he’d go for a cripple.”  That was it.  I stood up and looked at her right in the face, “What the fuck did you just say to me?!”  She stood up, but calmly, “He does this to all of his patients.  That’s his game.  He only treats women so he can sleep with them.  The crazier the better.  I’m here today to let him know I’m suing his ass.  You should do the same.”

There are different types of hysteria.  There’s the kind where you lose all control and act like a crazy person and the kind where you look normal but could completely explode at the push of a button.  I was somewhere in between.  I tore out of there, raced home, and crashed through my front door.  I smashed my crutches into a dozen pieces and broke every piece of glass in the house.  That was the crazy part of the hysteria.  The calm part was me carefully cutting the cast off my arm and getting ready to tear it apart.

My arm looked like a piece of moldy steak.  The healing skin looked rotted and grey.  I had an appointment to clean it last week, but I skipped it.  So instead of forearm, I went for my bicep, instead.  I crunched my teeth into my muscle and ripped it out like the meat from a turkey bone.  I was gonna pick my arm clean, but then Candice walked in.  She tackled me as I screamed in pain and anger.  She pinned me to the ground by my throat as I instinctively bit at her hand like a rabid dog.  Blood was caked all over my mouth so I wasn’t going to talk my way out of this one.

With her free hand, Candice started punching me in the face.  This hurt like hell, but I can’t blame her.  I looked like a zombie from 28 Days Later trying to get my teeth in her one way or another.  After striking me in the face a dozen times, I finally lost consciousness.  I dreamt about Simon and the doctor at the ER and the bitch at the audition place who asked my weight.  But then it just went to black.  And it was nice.  It was warm and quiet.  Nothing was wrong anymore.  I liked that place.

“Novi....Novi...”  I heard echoing in my head.  I would say it was like a dream, but actually it was like a clichéd movie.  I opened my eyes which felt like dried fruit.  I reached to rub them but couldn’t.  My arms were tied to my bed with my belts.  Same with my feet.  I was strapped to my bed like I was possessed by the devil.  Maybe I was.

“Novi, I’m sorry.  But I can’t let you do this anymore.”  Candice was sitting at the end of the bed talking to me.  I could tell she had been crying.  I lifted my head to look around at the situation, but when she said this to me, I dropped back to the pillow.  Candice is a tough bitch and she’s not gonna let me blow her off anymore.  “Now,” she said, “What in God’s name is wrong with you?”