March - Falsettos Oneshots

Hate Mail/Trina's Drinking Problem

A/N: Hewo! Have something I wrote during calculus (yet again!). This story features the lovely dead gay dads (Marvin & Whizzer are both dead in my stories that take place after Falsettos - accept it) and includes both Mendel and Trina! Woah! Idk why but someone is always crying at one point in my stories, so prepare. Anywayyyyys, hope you enjoy! ~ Cassie

Mendel's POV

Though it is only 4 PM, I am exhausted. It had been a long day of waiting around in my office since fewer and fewer clients had been coming. I ended up leaving early to take Jason to baseball practice, but he is still just as horrible as he had been before. Not that I'd ever tell him that. I personally think that he has been using baseball as a way to cope with the deaths of two of the people he considered to be his parents. It has been a year since Whizzer and Marvin had passed, but Jason is still just as affected as he had been when the deaths occurred.

I unlock the door and allow Jason to step past me into the house. He instantly rushes up to his room, probably to listen to music or something of the sort. I haven't really been up to date with what teenagers like, but it doesn't really matter so long as Jason is happy.

I see a pile of letters resting on a chair and see my name written on all of them. I grab the first one off the pile and tear it open, shocked as I recognize the handwriting. It reads: "Mendel, hope you're doing well. I just wanted to let you know that you were never really that great of a psychiatrist. I would recommend listening to patients a bit better before trying to help them. I'm surprised that Marvin stuck with you as long as he did. Anyways, I actually miss your company. Sincerely, Whizzer."

I frown, tossing the note aside. I don't know how I've received a letter from my deceased friend, but I reason that this must be some sort of sick joke. I know that none of my current patients know where I live... wait, all of them do. At this point Trina is the only patient I have left. I really do need to do more advertising. Anyways, I doubt that Trina would actually do something like this, especially since it is incredibly difficult to forge Whizzer's neat cursive. It would be harder for Trina since she's always-

"Mendel!" I hear my wife slur from another room. Drunk. She's always drunk. While Jason has a healthy coping mechanism of continuing a sport, Trina simply drinks her problems away. No matter how many times I get her to stop, she never listens to me. Needless to say, she always wakes up with a killer hangover, and I'm surprised that she even manages to cook without ending up severely injured. Wincing, I rush towards Jason's room to seek refuge, hoping that maybe he can explain the letter in the process. I quietly slip into the room and spot my son dancing around to music playing. When he notices me, he pauses it, looking sympathetic.

"Mom's drinking again, isn't she," Jason states, patting the bed next to him. For a thirteen year old he's incredibly good at handling situations like this. Much better than I am. Maybe he should be the psychiatrist. He'd probably do a better job.

"When is she not?" I reply, sighing and sitting down next to him. "I don't need to deal with this right now. Especially not with the influx of hate mail and other cruel letters."

"Hate mail?" Jason asks, confused. I hand the letter over to him, and after reading through it, he frowns, glaring at a spot across the room. "Whizzer! You can't do this... No it's not. Don't give me that look... Ugh, I can't believe you!"

I stare at Jason, worried. Does he seriously believe that Whizzer is in the room with us? I place my hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention to me. "Jason, Whizzer's dead."

"Yeah, I know. He's also being very mean right now. He thinks that his letter was funny and he's refusing to apologize."

"I'm gonna go..." I mutter, vowing to help Jason out some other time. Maybe he can have more sessions with me. It's a shame that I'd just be paying myself though. I should probably get another job soon if I don't get any other clients. Right when I close the door behind myself, I turn to see Trina standing less than a foot away, smiling at me manically.