TONIGHT WE'RE GOLD

TWENTY-THREE

He wakes up at 6:30 a.m.

Only when he opens his eyes, he remembers where he is.

Rehab.

A nurse comes in to check his vitals and give him his morning meds. He's supposed to go to the cafeteria for breakfast, but he doesn't have the energy or will to get up, so he stays in bed.

He misses Gerard and Lois.

And he can't stop thinking about how stupid he was, and how he ruined everything and he still wishes he had died.

Then he throws up again.

They force him out of his bed, and to a tiny room at the end of the corridor, where he meets his therapist.

'Good morning, Mr. Iero,' she says. Dr. Sandra Philis, her name tag says. She's an older lady, probably around his mom's age, her gray short hair gives her an air of arrogance and pretentiousness, the kind of doctor who thinks she knows more than she actually does.

Frank hates those. He hates therapists in general, but the phony ones are the worst.

He's had enough experience with them to know. And they always think they know more than their patients, the ones living with a mental illness. So he just stares at her, ready to play the game. He'll tell them what they want to hear, and get out of there. 'Good morning,' he says, his tone defiant and angry.

'How is your day going?'

'It depends.'

'It depends on what?'

'On whether we're talking about how is it going for you, or for me. You see, you medicate me, make me puke my brains out, and pretend you care about my problems, and your job is done. In the meantime, I'm lethargic as fuck, can't get out of bed, and feeling like shit. My mind is foggy, and I don't feel like myself.'

Dr. Philis stays quiet for a minute, and Frank knows he's won this one.

'Mr. Iero, I want you to understand we're here to help you get better, and that this is part of your treatment.'

Frank laughs. 'Oh, I know that. I've been here before. Not in this exact place, but with a doctor just like you, who promised me I'd get better, and that everything was going to be okay. And here I am.'

'Well, you can't just recover and think you're cured forever. There are a lot of factors that can lead to a relapse.' Frank knows that. He's not dumb. But it's easier to pretend he is than taking responsibility for his actions.

Frank doesn't say anything else, and for the rest of the session, Dr. Philis reads his file, and asks some more general questions. 'It says here you have a history of depression and anxiety, plus two previous ODs.'

'Living the life!'

She doesn't seem to find the humor in that, and she tells him they'll keep going later, on their next session.

Frank goes back to his room, and doesn't plan on leaving it again.

His roommate is called Jose and he doesn't shut up. He tells Frank about his daughters. One of them is having a baby, and she told him that if he doesn't recover, he won't meet his grandchild.

Frank can't help thinking about Jamia and the baby he never had.

'You have kids?' Jose asks.

Frank shakes his head. He's not sure about telling a complete stranger about being engaged to a man. He's not sure about talking to him about anything, for that matter, but Jose doesn't shut up, so Frank has to listen.