Mickey - The View From Here PART TWO - Gallavich

The Fortune Teller

I disliked this. No matter how I shifted my weight, I couldn’t get comfortable as the therapist in the chair across from mine opened his notebook to begin the session. Though he was a doctor, he told me to call him Andy in an obvious ploy to establish a friendly rapport off the bat.

Warmth emanated from Andy as he asked me a question. “So, Mickey, what do you hope to get out of this?”

“To get my husband off my back,” I stated. “He’s bipolar…dunno if that means anything.”

“So, you think his concerns are a product of his own disorder?” Andy tried to clarify, and when I heard it, I realized how unfair that was to Ian.

I sighed, rubbing my closed eyelids with the tips of my fingers. “No. I just don’t need any of this. And I don’t need him worryin’ about me. So, could you just declare me sane so I can get the fuck back to my life?”

Andy thought on this. “It isn’t a matter of sane or insane. Disorders are normal. They’re a part of being human. So, what exactly is your husband concerned about?”

I slumped in my chair. “I dunno. He said I’m anxious. But what the fuck is wrong with that? It keeps me alert. Like, fuck, I let my guard down for five fuckin’ minutes and I get jumped. I wish I’d been anxious. Try and jump me then, bitch.”

Andy jotted down a few notes. I disliked that notebook as well.

“And I guess Ian’s worried about some gore phobia happening to me just ‘cause I don’t like going out anymore.”

“Agoraphobia,” Andy corrected me. “What do you think? Your husband has his theories, but what do you personally believe?”

I shrugged. “I don’t really think about it.”

Andy jotted down a few more notes. “And this ‘jumping’ you referred to before our session. Were you attacked?”

“Yeah, I got jumped.”

He leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to process what I had said. “And this caused this head injury mentioned on your registration form?”

I nodded, getting irritated with his questions.

“I am so sorry to hear that, Mickey,” he said. “Do the police have any leads?”

I chuckled. “Fuck them. I know who did it.”

Andy waited on the edge of his seat for me to continue.

“Just my dumbshit brother. Guess I'm lucky my pops is dead, or it would’ve been a more effective attack.”

Andy’s sensere interest was morphed into discomforting horror. “You’re brother?”

“Yeah. Fam tries to kill me sometimes. You know, the whole gay thing.”

Too disturbed to take notes, Andy furrowed his brow and dove deep into thought. “Alright. There’s a lot to unpack here, but I think we can figure it all out together. When can you come in again?”

I made a face, offended. “Again? I gotta do this shit again?”

He smiled. “Sort of how therapy works.”

Gnawing my bottom lip with worry, I shook my head and threw my hands up in defeat. “I ain’t cut out for this shit, man. Forget it. There’s no fuckin’ point. He’s still gonna fuckin’ leave.”

“Your husband? Has he said that he wants to leave?”

“No, says he won't leave...” I replied in a somewhat peevish, annoyed tone. “But he will. My brain’s fucked. The only shit he likes about me might be gone.”

There was nearly a smirk on Andy’s face, like he had figured out how to fix the cracked vase that was my psyche. “Do you know what a fortune teller is?”

“What? Like, with the crystal ball and shit?”

“No,” he said. “It’s a person with anxiety who is spiraling. You’re certain your husband will leave you, but from what you’ve told me, he has made it clear that that isn’t what he wants.”

I hitched my shoulders in a shrug. “He’s an optimist.”

“You can’t tell the future, Mickey. You can only live in the present. Don’t ruin your present by creating a worst-case scenario future in your head. Does that make any sense?”

I gave my head a nod. It did. “So, how do I get back to normal?”

“Try not to think of it like that. Normal is relative. This will be your new normal.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

“We’ll talk. I might prescribe medication. We’ll find ways for you to cope and live your life as normally as you please,” Andy explained. “It’s just going to take time.”

I couldn’t hold back the sneer shaping my features. “How much time?"