Better Together (Patrick Kane)

64| Suspecions

Danielle

I walk into a dark office in downtown Chicago clinging tightly to my handbag. Everything in this place was a nuetral color, no real evidence of appropriation or individualism. It was kind of a mood killer.

I follow the instructions given to me and end up in a small room in the back of the building. There was nothing but a couch and a desk and a chair, all black. I sit on the couch and familiarize myself with my surroundings, although it won't take too long given how bland this place is.

A few minutes later a older woman comes in and sits at the desk. She had a binder tucked under her arm and she placed it on the desk in front of her. She sends me a kind smile and it made me feel a little better.

"Hello, you must be Danielle" she says.

"That's me, and you must be Dr. Patrice" I say shaking her hand.

"Indeed, but you can call me Monica" she says and I nod. I continue to look around and she notices my confusion. "I know it's kind of boring in here but we don't want anyone triggered. Plus it give the patients a opportunity to create whatever their hearts desire" she explains.

"I admit, this isn't a place I would have ever seen myself in" I laugh dryly.

"I don't blame you, it's a bit depressing in here at times. But I didn't call you in to remodel the place, I actually wanted to talk to you... about your dad" she says slowly.

"I kinda figured" I admit.

"I was going to call you in sooner, and I guess it's better late than ever at this point" she shrugs.

"Why exactly am I here" I ask. Because better late than never isn't going to cut it.

"I wanted to talk about the episode the other day" she claims.

"The one that nearly killed my dad again" I snap.

"Yeah... I sense you're upset with me" she notices.

"A little" I admit.

"Can you tell me why" she wonders.

"You work with veterans more often then not, right?"

"Yes I do."

"And for how long?"

"Over 35 years."

"Right... so you know that their prescription should be changed after their dosage is up instead of prescribing the same medicine over and over. The human body is made to adapt and eventually start rejecting medication because it's how organisms evolve, we both know that. But you kept giving him the same medicine knowing it wasn't working anymore. Knowing that he was over dosing because he felt like it wasn't working anymore, because it wasn't, and you had to be the one to give him more knowing he shouldn't be taking that much in this amount of time... you knew exactly what you're doing but what I can't figure out is why you knowledgeably hurt my father."

"You're a smart girl."

"I've been hurt too many times not to learn from the mistakes I and the people I love have made."

"Well I think it's important that you know that I never meant to hurt your father. He said the medicine was working and I trusted him."

"If he didn't need your guidance he wouldn't of been here in the first place. He obviously needed you to tell him what to do, not the other way around..."

"Maybe so. But you can't help someone who doesn't want it."

"He doesn't want people to help him, he never has. He believes he's broken beyond repair because people like keep telling him everything is okay when it's not. But that doesn't mean you just give him pills to pop and say that you're doing your job. You're not doing shit. That is the strongest person you will ever meet and you broke him. I came here to see what I was dealing with because I wasn't sure he was getting help and I was right. He wasn't. Because you can keep giving him pills but that only masks the pain, he's still hurting but now he just can't feel it even though it's still there. That's sick. He's done so much for this country and to be disrespected like this makes me want to vomit."

"I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do beside give him medication. We can keep having meetings but its always the same thing over and over again. He doesn't say much."

"He doesn't say it with his mouth. He says it with his eyes and his body language, but you wouldn't know that. No... you wouldn't would you..."

We stare at each other before her blank expression becomes a angry one. But if she was angry than I was pissed. Pissed because my dad was supposed to be getting help and he was getting kicked to the side.

"The things your dad has seen, they are terrible. They're horrid and painful for even me to hear, and I've heard it all. There's no fixing what he's been through. We can prepare the future all we will like for him, but it won't change the past. It won't change the fact that he hurts beyond repair. That his heart is so broken that you'll get cut if you try to pick up the pieces. Sweetie, all we can do is give your dad something that will make him think differently. I'm sorry" she tries.

I stand up in my seat and start to walk away. I turn to her before I leave and she stares up at me.

"You should feel like a terrible person for what you've done. Taking all this money like you're making a difference but all you do is bring up the past and act like it's going to change the future. I might not have a psychology degree or a bachelors in anatomy or any type of certificates but I know how people work. I know how they function and how to get the most out of life. And I know what you're doing is wrong. My dad has seen some shit, I don't even want to think about it. But I can feel when he gets flash backs or when he's uncomfortable about a topic. And I also know that he's so excited for a new future. He's ready to move on and stop acting like everything is okay. He's ready to be okay and it sucks you won't help him. So we're going to another hospital for a new prescription and a new doctor, one who knows about the quality of life... not just the quanity" I snap before slamming the door.

I drive home pissed but kind of relived that was over. I was confused on how my dad was getting help but wasn't getting better. Now it all makes sense, from the doctor to the medication.

I walk into the apartment and toss my things on the couch. I smell something cooking and I become so very confused. I walk over to the kitchen and see Patrick with my "kiss the cook" apron on storing something in the stove.

"Patrick" I ask and he turns around with a big smile on his face.

"Just in time" he claims turning the stove off. He pours whatever was in the pan into two bowls and sets them on the island. He puts two spoons in and places two wine glasses next to the bowls.

"What's this" I ask.

"It's me treating you to a dinner" he claims.

"Ohh what did you make" I ask sitting in front of my bowl.

"The helper of hamburgers" he says over dramatically.

"You made hamburger helper" I clarify and he laughs.

"Yeah, I did" he nods and I giggle. He sits across from me and digs in.

"Well... this is pretty good. Looks like someone's on dinner duty for a while" I tease.

"No way in hell. It took me three boxes of hamburger helper and four hours to make this" he says and I nearly spit my food out.

"Seriously? Why did you keep going" I wonder.

"Because I wanted to make you dinner. You always make dinner and clean up and do laundry while going to school and work and helping out your dad, you deserve a nice meal" he claims.

"Well thank you. It was lovely" I smile.

"You are" he smiles back.