Got Your Six

Chapter 28

Calvin

"Hi, how may I help you?" Asks the receptionist as soon as I walk in.
When Kayla made this appointment for me, I wasn't expecting for it to be so soon. Not like I have anything else to do on this Friday afternoon. My schedule has been pretty open since getting suspended from work earlier this week. I'm guessing therapists like to squeeze in new patients, just to get them started at least.
"Appointment for Calvin Jenkins," I tell the woman behind the desk.
I'm trying to keep an open mind about all of this. I know how much it means to Kayla that I'm here, giving it a shot. My phone has remained pretty quiet all week too, no word from Christina yet. I feel sort of bad that I didn't tell Kayla the whole truth about that, but I figure she worries about me enough as it is. It's best if she doesn't know I'm still pursuing Gavin.
"Okay, I've got you all checked in. We ask that everyone fill out this quick form before their first visit," she tells me, handing my a clipboard and a pen. "You can have a seat while you work on that and Mrs. Dukie will be with you shortly."
I take the clipboard, with its single piece of paper, over to the corner of the room and have a seat. The paper has a question asking about the amount of sleep I've been getting, which is more than last week but still not a lot. There's another asking about my alcohol and tobacco usage. I'll admit, I have a beer every so often but nothing crazy. I'm not the type to drown my sorrows in a bottle of liquor. I don't see any questions asking about recent events in my life that might've brought me here, but I figure that's a question for the therapist to ask me directly. One of the last questions on the forms asks if I've had any thoughts about hurting myself or others. My mind immediately goes back to when I threatened the guy at the funeral home and then Manny just a day later. Would I have actually hurt them? Maybe, if it came to that, I don't know for sure. Then I think about what I'd do to Gavin if I had the chance. I guess I'll just have to lie on this question.
"Calvin?" A female voice calls out from across the room just as I sign my name at the bottom of the paper.
"That's me," I say, standing up and making my way towards the woman with the clipboard in my hand.
"Hi, I'm Mrs. Dukie," she says, extending her hand while she stands in the doorway to her office.
She's a young looking woman who can't be but maybe a couple years older than me. She has dark brown hair that comes down to her shoulders and a smile that just feels comforting somehow. Like I can trust her with anything. Maybe that's why she went into this line of work.
"Nice to meet you," I say while shaking her hand lightly.
She steps aside and makes room for me to join her in her office. I pass her desk to my left as I take myself further into the room. She has a desk light on which I find slightly odd since the big overhead light is on as well. There's a bookshelf on the back wall to the left of a window. On the right wall, there's a couch, which is where I'm guessing I'm supposed to sit. Directly across from it, there's a lounge chair that matches the couch, that's where I decide to sit.
When I think of a therapist's office, I think of the movies and TV shows where there's some crazy guy lying on a couch spitting out some crazy story. I don't want to feel like the crazy guy, which is why I think I chose to sit in the lounge chair instead. Mrs. Dukie doesn't seem to mind. She doesn't make any objection as she takes a seat on the couch across from me.
My eyes keep wondering around the room as she gets settled with a notepad. There's a clock located above her head on the wall. It reads '2:33'. This is only supposed to be a thirty minute appointment. Looks like I've only got about twenty seven minutes left.
"So, Calvin, what brings you here today?" Mrs. Dukie asks as she clicks her pen, preparing to write down my answer.
"Well," I say, suddenly wishing I had never come here. I don't want to keep bringing it up, I don't want to have to keep talking about it. Better to just get it over with I guess. "Two weeks ago, I lost my brother."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she says softly while scribbling on her notepad. "Go on."
I don't know what exactly it is, but something inside me tells me to just let it all out, and that's exactly what I do. "He was shot during an undercover drug bust. The guy got away and my brother didn't make it. I was supposed to protect him and I failed," I say as the tears well up in my eyes and pour out.
"So, you feel somewhat responsible?" She asks, handing me a tissue from the box sitting next to the couch.
"I feel completely responsible," I correct her. I firmly believe that if I would've never questioned him that day, never told my Captain about him, that Cameron would've never been involved. He'd still be here. I hold myself completely responsible.
"It's hard for us to control every aspect of our lives, especially the lives of someone else. Everyone is responsible for making their own choices. You can't blame yourself for the choices of another," she says in a comforting tone that doesn't really change how I feel about it all. "Was your bother a police officer?"
"No, I am," I tell her, then realize I probably haven't been completely clear with anything I've said so far. "My Captain thought it would be a good idea to have my brother help with the bust, because my brother used to work with the guy we were trying to take down," I explain to her, trying to leave out any names. I can't reveal anyone's name from an open investigation, even if I'm not the one working on it.
"Okay, I think I'm following now," she assures me, making a few more scribbles on her notepad. "So, how have things been at home recently?"
"Tense," I say, not knowing how else to put it. "I guess I've been sort of sheltering myself. Ya know, not wanting to spend time with anyone, just wanting to be alone. My wife has noticed that I've been pretty off recently and so she's the one that suggested I come here."
"And is that all? Just sheltering yourself from everyone? Have you had any sudden outbursts of anger?" She asks, as if she can see straight into my mind.
I hesitate as I think of all the dark things I've done in the past weeks. Things that would definitely get me in trouble if anyone knew about them. Threatening people with a firearm. Using my position as a police officer to basically kidnap someone. Blowing up on my wife for no good reason. There have been several outbursts of anger, none of which I really want to bring up to anyone, especially someone I just met.
"It's common for people to take their frustrations out on the people around them," she says, pulling my attention back to her. "Especially ones closest to us."
"I had an argument with my wife," I say shamefully.
"It's okay, it's completely normal," she says, trying to put me at ease. "Was it about anything in particular?"
I am not about to tell this woman that I was suspected of murdering someone by my own boss of all people. It's probably best I don't tell her everything about the argument I had with Kayla. "I got in trouble at work and my wife wasn't very happy about it," I tell her, trying to keep the details very minimal.
"And do you mind if I ask what it is you got in trouble for?" Mrs. Dukie asks, leaving me no choice but to come up with something on the fly.
"I was working on a case I wasn't assigned to," I tell her, which isn't a complete lie.
"I see, and how did this argument between you and your wife end?" She asks, once again asking me something I don't want to answer.
"I left the house," I say reluctantly.
"To go where?" She asks.
I wish she would stop with the prying questions but I guess that's part of her job. How is she supposed to help me if she doesn't know the whole story? I just wish I never would've agreed to come here. All these questions are beginning to irritate me.
"I went to stay in a hotel for the night. That's it. I went back home the next day and we talked through it," I spit out, hoping that might put an end to her intrusive questions.
"I'm sorry if I've said something to upset you," Mrs. Dukie says with a concerning voice.
"No, I'm sorry," I say with a sigh. "I've just been stressed."
"It's okay. Remember, I'm just here to help. I'm not here to judge you," she assures me.
"I know," I say quietly, letting my eyes drift back up to the clock. I only have to last ten more minutes.
"Okay, well, other than that one incident of getting in trouble, how has work been going?" Mrs. Dukie asks, readying her pen again.
"It hasn't been," I say, watching the confused look come across her face. "I got suspended for that incident," I explain.
"Oh, I see. I'm sorry," she says while she jots down a few more words on the yellow notepad.
"Before our time is up today, I just want to make sure you're good to go. Make sure you've got support at home and make sure there's nothing troubling you on the inside," she tells me.
"Okay," I say questionably.
I can feel my phone begin to vibrate in my pocket just before it starts playing its loud ringtone, interrupting whatever Mrs. Dukie was about to say.
"I'm sorry," I say, clicking the side button through my pants to get my phone to go silent. "Go ahead," I say. I'm curious as to who might be calling but at the same time, I want to get this appointment over with already.
"Have you had any thoughts of hurting yourself recently?" Mrs. Dukie asks with a soft voice.
"No," I reply with no hesitation.
My watch dings on my wrist, pulling my attention down to see what the notification is for.
"Have you had any thoughts of hurting anyone other than yourself?" Mrs. Dukie asks, regardless of only having half of my attention now.
I stare at my watch, reading the text message from Christina that reads, 'The party is tonight'.
My eyes shift back up to Mrs. Dukie and the words slip through my lips without a conscious thought.
"I think I might do something very bad," I tell her.