The truth was that I wasn’t getting much work done at all. I was finally home with all day free to devote to my studies and I was too sick to keep up with the class schedule. It was all I could do to sit through class twice a week and not fall to pieces. They didn’t get it; no one got it. No one understood Sylvia. They pretended to, maybe they thought they understood; but they didn’t. “It was Ted’s lack of support that drove her mad” some teenage twit expounded in class. I never spoke in class but I understood that Sylvia was wading knee deep in madness long before she met Ted.
“ It was, in part, her illness that led her to choose Ted” I ranted to Adam when I got home. I was feeling unusually strong, energized. “I didn’t get it before but now I understand her poetry. She’s not saying look at that tree. She’s saying look at that tree: it’s so beautiful that it makes me want to die.”
“It’s great that you’re so passionate about this, but are you, maybe, taking this a little too far. You get so intense and involved. You’ve worn nothing but black for weeks.”
“I won’t be a slave to fashion. I’ve simplified my wardrobe. Black is the new black this season.”
I picked at my black nail polish as I sat in Dr. Vexpensif’s swanky uptown waiting room. I spent hours at my desk manicuring my nails as I avoided finishing my paper. I had the thesis written in my head but the words slipped just out of reach as I struggled to commit them to paper.
I imagined myself breaking down in the doctor’s office. Crumpling to my knees and sobbing, “Please help me. I can’t take it anymore. I’m going crazy. Why is this happening to me? I must have a brain tumor or an aneurysm.” Surely, my cousin’s friend’s husband’s renowned neuro-psychiatrist would have some answers.
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The actual meeting lacked drama. “I have a migraine almost every day. The injections aren’t relieving the pain anymore. On the days that I don’t have a migraine I’m tired and weak. “ “And depressed” I added quietly. “I’m getting remarkable results with this new anti-depressant, Happitab. It should reduce your migraines significantly.” “But why do I get so many migraines? What causes them?” I pleaded. “Well, have you been able to identify any triggers? No? I don’t know precisely what brings them on, but I know how you can prevent them.” |
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“I’d prefer not to take an anti-depressant. Is there anything else I could try? Vitamins, herbs, acupuncture, anything?”
“I really think you would benefit from Happitab. Here are some samples and a prescription.”
I crumpled up the prescription and shoved it into my pocket as I rode the elevator down to the lobby.
Like Holden, Esther is continually dissatisfied and withdrawal is her response. She resolves to expect nothing from Buddy so as not to ever be disappointed.
It was starting to snow outside. I warmed my hands around a cup of hot chocolate while I spoke to Adam on the phone. “It was a waste of time. I knew it would be. I just have a brain tumor; I’m not depressed. Or at least I wouldn’t be if I could get this hammering in my head to stop.”
“Honey, you’re going to have to at least try the anti-depressants. We’ll talk more tonight, okay? I love you.”
Shivering, I walked to the subway. I sat on a wooden bench and held my head in my hands. When I raised my head a rat scurrying along the tracks caught my eye. It didn’t look much different from the fifth-grade class mouse I’d brought home to take care of over the summer. It was just a lot bigger. I rummaged in my pocketbook and found a granola bar. I broke it into pieces and tossed them onto the tracks surreptitiously so as not to alarm anyone who might not appreciate vermin the way I do. A frenzied mob of rats converged on the tracks, eyes shining and emitting unearthly high-pitched squeals. People were beginning to notice them. My heart jumped and my mouth filled with a metallic taste. I imaged the rats attacking me, tearing the flesh from my bones while a crowd of onlookers cheered. Their squeals grew louder and louder until the subway car arrived on the opposite track and I realized the rats weren’t squealing at me. I quietly put the granola bar away and hurried to an empty bench at the far end of the platform.
How About Chapter Two Of The Last Class? It's Right Here.