Gentlemen Only

Only Happy When It Rains

“You missed our meeting last week, Meredith.”

Janet sat with her legs curled up on a rather large, poufy recliner. Several loud, bohemian pillows were propped up behind her. She figured this was the most approachable position in which to sit, in order to make Meredith more at ease. She could tell, the moment the poor girl arrived, that she must have had a hell of a week.

Meredith’s eyes were red-rimmed, deep purple crescents under the bottom lids. Her skin was pallid, more so than usual, and her hair seemed dingy and lifeless, much like her eyes. Janet noticed they were far off, distant from the world around her, a sign that Meredith was withdrawing into herself.

“Why did you miss our meeting, Meredith?” Janet prodded gently, relaxing her own posture to initiate an aura of receptiveness.

“I had a bad week.” Meredith said simply, nervously twirling a piece of hair between her fingers. Her response seemed off, like she was on autopilot, which Janet assumed she was.

“Define bad.” Janet poised her pen over the notepad.

Meredith’s irises were glazed over in thought, the kind produced by a deep inner turmoil that nobody else could see or feel. “I was bad.”

Janet jerked a little at the statement: it wasn’t often that Meredith berated herself for anything anymore. Since they’d begun therapy, she had made great progress in recognizing situations as they were, which, for someone with social anxiety, was a monumental achievement.

“Why do you feel you were bad?” Janet continued, scribbling furiously on the notebook, brows knitted in confusion.

“I got drunk.” Meredith replied with ease, still not completely lucid, slightly unaware of her surroundings. Janet marveled at how Meredith even managed to even catch a bus to her office, as distant as she acted. Then what Meredith said hit her like a freight train: Meredith wasn’t one to drink, or even go to a place where they served alcohol.

“Where were you when this happened?” Janet blurted the first thing that came to her mind. Meredith remained unaware of the change in tone, still staring vacantly out of the window.

“Gentlemen Only.” She replied. At this point, it was almost trance-like how automated and emotionless her responses were.

“Why were you drinking at the bar?” Janet tried to keep her voice even, devoid of judgement or criticism. Normally, that was an easy task, but since the patient was so prudent and responsible, the turn of events was throwing her off her evaluation game.

“To forget it all.” The same monotonous tone.

“What were you trying to forget?”

“Jet.” A flash of anger flitted briefly through Meredith’s otherwise emotionless stare.

Janet paused, pen hovering over the paper. “Why were you trying to forget Jet, Meredith?”

“We kissed,” At this, Janet dropped her pen in shock, somewhat ruffled, “but there’s another woman and he-” Meredith’s voice finally broke, eyes glistening with moisture.

“What happened then?” Janet perched on the edge of the chair, eager to hear the rest. Her mind whirred with possible catalysts for what could have elicited such impulsive behavior from her patient.