Psyche

14

Jamie has an appointment with Emilia, so Girlie gets off work early to take him.

Emilia has changed her hair again: It’s a pixie haircut and she’s dyed it a dark red. It reminds Jamie of dried blood and he looks at the floor, tries not to laugh. “Girlie says you’ve been sick,” she starts. Her eyes look worn and the wrinkles under them are deeper than usual. Her week must’ve been crappy too. ”You haven’t taken your medications lately.”

When Jamie realizes she didn’t ask it like a question, that she stated it as a fact, he only fumbles for a moment before replying, “Yes, I have.”

“I know you may not want to admit it, but Jamie, this isn’t –“

“I haven’t done anything.”

“I’m not saying you have.”

“Then . . . Then I don’t want to be here. There’s no point.”

“I’m looking at you and I want to cry,” she breaks. She breathes in sharply and her nails grip her knees.

He keeps attention on the floor and slouches in his chair to the point he might slide off. He already feels bad. He can’t feel any worse than he does now. “This is stupid,” he mumbles.

“I wish you didn’t feel like you couldn’t tell me what’s happening,” Emilia says. Jamie tries to imagine himself drowning in the plush blue carpet.

“I want to help you. You need to help yourself too,” is the last thing she says before Jamie stands up and asks to leave.

*********

The way home is as long and tedious as the electronic song playing on the radio. Girlie switches the station to a Christian rock one and the gratitude of love and hope in the songs makes Jamie want to go through the windshield. He can feel Girlie’s eyes on him every few seconds. The urge to yell will you stop? increases with each minute.

He wants to tell her this is all her fault.

“Jamie, sweetie.”

Everything is her fault.

The songs become repulsive and a cruel joke to Jamie who can’t find it in himself to give in and be free like the musicians are being. His sight is distorted, colors becoming bleak and images ugly.

When they stop at a red light Girlie takes her right hand off the steering wheel and rests it on her stomach. Jamie notices the way her fingers press lightly into the skin and lightly rubs it. She does it for every red light to the point Jamie grinds his teeth. He tastes salt on his them and his voice is raspy when he asks, “Why do you keep rubbing your stomach like that?”

Alarm appears on her face, though it’s not for very long and yet it’s enough for Jamie to know there is an answer she won’t admit so easily.

“No reason.” A car behind them honks as the light turns green.  Girlie glares into her rearview mirror and drives.

“I guess it’s fair,” Jamie starts, “that I say it’s nothing when you ask me a question, for you to say the same thing when I ask you something.”

“. . . I was going to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” It can’t be bad, because she may look calm yet nervous, but at least it’s not guilt and shame.

“I’m pregnant.”

He forgets to be happy.

*******

They never mentioned the baby again. Jamie doesn’t, so Girlie never brings it up.

Jamie stays home the next day. No one else is there and the house feels emptier with just him. He lies in bed with his head underneath the covers, even though it’s hot and he’s sweating. When he takes the covers off he’s suddenly cold and retreats back to the heat. His stomach growls and gnaws painfully. The breakfast Girlie made for him is still waiting in the microwave, but he’s been sick of food. Both Jean and Alexandria text him, but Jamie ignores them, turning off his cellphone and tossing it onto the ground.

He tries telling himself there are people out there who have it worse than him to make himself feel better.