Page 48 of Husband to Go
“Yes. The first thing I need to tell you is that we use what some might consider extreme methods. But people come to us in their time of need, desperate to change their circumstances. So if you’re willing to undergo our treatment, and to follow all of our recommendations, we here at North Cross are ready to assist.”
It sounds a little intense, but that’s why I’m here. I can’t be afraid to endure some pain and suffering if it means getting out of this deep trough I’ve dug for myself.
“I’m ready.”
“Great,” she says with a professional smile. “If you could wait here, I need to fetch a couple of orderlies, and we can accompany you to your room. I shouldn’t take long.”
Dr. Rogers leaves, placing the clipboard on her desk. She nods at me one more time and then shuts the door. One minute passes and then another. I haven’t been alone for very long, but I’m already starting to get antsy.
What could she have meant byextrememeasures? Psychiatry is a very inexact science, with very inexact solutions. Are they going to torture me? I’ve read that they used to submerge patients in water thinking it would cure them. I doubt they’d go so far as to hammer a pick into my brain, but not knowing what’s going to happen is a little daunting.
Plus, my chart is just sitting there. I wonder what she wrote about me? How far gone does Dr. Rogers think I am? Am I the looniest person at North Cross?
I tiptoe over and place my ear against the door. I don’t hear anyone moving, so I decide to at least skim over my chart to see what she’s put down.
I cross to the other side of the desk and look down at her words.
“Kylie is exhibiting signs of an obsessive personality. Based on an initial sexual encounter with an older man named Tanner, the patient grew unhealthily attached to said male after learning he was marrying her mother. Even with her moral compass telling her to stop, the patient continued to sleep with the man in question. Talk therapy may be a good starting point but given the patient’s desperation to rid herself of desire for her soon-to-be stepdad, other methods may need to be explored for quicker results.”
That sounds good, I think. Talk therapy sounds like it could be useful, but what’s this “other method” mentioned by Dr. Rogers? Anything that helps me get better faster is welcome.
The door starts to creak open. I rush back to my seat, planting my butt down before anyone enters the room. Dr. Rogers is followed by two larger men in green scrubs.
“Hi Kylie, this is Jonathan and Paul. We have a room ready for you. If you could follow us.”
“Um, why are they here?” I say, nervously eyeing the burly men. They don’t meet my gaze.
“They’re our escorts,” replies Dr. Rogers pleasantly. “Now come with me please.”
We walk single file, with Dr. Rogers at the head, me, and then the two orderlies. I notice that they walk with one hand on their walkie-talkies, while looking about with sharp eyes like they’re Secret Service agents. Are we safe? What are they protecting me from?
We arrive at a gate which is electronically alarmed, and enter a featureless hallway lit with the same ghastly fluorescent lighting. The décor starts to get more sanitized and septic. The warmth from the reception area is almost gone, and it’s a little scary.
But this is my life now. I’ll be talking with psychiatrists, living behind metal doors, and maybe I’ll even need to go on meds. Whatever those ‘other methods’ the doctor wrote about, I’m very much ready because this ismylife now. If this is what it takes to rid myself of my longing for Tanner, then so be it.
We stop in front of a door, and Jonathan unlocks it. He pulls on the metal handle, and from his exertion I can tell it’s quite heavy.
“Kylie,” Dr. Rogers begins in a calm voice, “this will be your space while you’re here. Right now, it’s very bare bones, but you can submit requests for amenities that will put under review. We want you to feel comfortable here while becoming the best version of you.”
I step into the room, and it’s spartan. There’s a big bed, a T.V., and a desk with a chair. It’s just a standard room.
“Once we’ve gone through your bag, someone will deliver it to you, along with the approved materials. Tonight, just get comfortable, and, tomorrow, we can get started on creating a treatment plan for you.”
I nod hesitantly.
“Okay thanks.”
Everyone leaves, and I’m alone. The door closes with a heavy thud, and it finally dawns on me that I’m really here. I’m locked into a room, with only a tiny window looking into the yard below. I’m at this institution because I brought myself here.
I try not to feel scared, but it’s hard not to experience fear. The fact that I can’t just leave is suddenly extremely scary. What if there’s a fire? How will I escape?
I start thinking about Tanner, wondering where he is and what he’s doing right now. My heart falls. By this time tomorrow, he’ll be a married man, and with a broken sob, I collapse onto the bed and cry. This hurts so much more than I can handle. I’m a defeated woman, irreparably so. These thoughts of Tanner are exactly why I deserve to be locked away, and I curl up on the blanket, crying my heart out for no one to hear.
16
Tanner
Today is the day. It’s my wedding day.