Page 14 of Social Sinners

Chapter Five

Easton was used to dealing with the paparazzi, that was until he became the one they sought. It’s always easier to deflect than receive. He handled all the Social Sinners social media, so there was no way for him to avoid it. Now, whenever he went out somewhere, cameras were thrust in his face, at times forcefully. When he was online, the haters came out in droves. Everywhere he turned, he walked into a web of harassment and cyberbullying. I tried to distract him with house shit, but his restlessness and anxiety increased exponentially with each passing day. He’d already been challenged with sleeping issues. These new problems only compounded them and had caused the nightmares he’d been having to increase in frequency. It had reached the point to where I insisted he call his therapist or I told him I’d be doing it for him. That didn’t go over to well, and I’d probably crossed a line or two with my unwavering insistence. But he did finally call and make the appointment and even allowed me to accompany him to the session.

“Good afternoon, Michelle,” Easton greeted the receptionist when we walked in. “I’m here for my appointment with Dr. Linden.”

“Hello, Easton. Dr. Linden is finishing up with another patient. Have a seat, and I’ll let her know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” he said to her before she returned her attention to the computer screen as we took a seat in the waiting area. The TV was on CNN, but my eyes were on Easton’s constant fidgeting beside me.

“You okay, East?”

“Um yeah, why do you ask?”

“Your leg is bouncing like crazy, and you’re chewing your cuticles to the point they’re bleeding,” I freed his hand from the evil clutches his mouth had on it. Taking it in mine, I tried to calm him with soothing strokes on the back side of it, but that wasn’t doing the trick. A sense of relief washed over me when the doctor came into the lobby and called out his name, followed by one of dread as we entered her office.Why did I suddenly feel this way?

“Easton, it’s been a while. How are you?” she asked him once the door was closed.

“I’m fine,” he lied, and he was well aware I knew that was a lie or we wouldn’t have been here in the first place– together. “This is my boyfriend, Diamond. He ugh, he insisted on coming with me.”

“Insisted? You don’t want him here?” she questioned.

“It’s not that I don’t want him here, ugh…” He plopped down on the couch, burying his face in his hands.

“Easton, I can’t continue with him here unless you tell me it’s acceptable to speak freely in front of him. Do you want him to wait in the lobby?” she asked. I stood just inside the space, waiting to see whether or not I was getting the boot.

“No, he can stay,” he relented.

“All right. Diamond, why don’t you take a seat and we’ll begin.”

I sat beside him, and she pulled out a notebook and paused. “Easton, why don’t you tell me why you missed our last three sessions.”

Three?I thought. I turned, staring at him. The look on my face asked the words I knew better than to speak. They would’ve come out far harsher than I needed them to. But he refused to meet my gaze. Something was going on that he didn’t want me to know about. The unease I’d felt as we’d entered started to make sense now and I knew whatever he was about to say was not going to be good.

“Well, one was because we were in Vegas for a wedding,” he stated the most obvious one first.

“And the other two?”

“I was feeling good, so I didn’t see the need to come in.”

“And now?” Kudos to her for not letting him get out of this, but she and I were still going to have a conversation about the prescriptions. There was no way in hell all those chemicals going into his body were good for him, and to top it off, they weren’t working worth a shit.

“Um, the nightmares are back,” he reluctantly uttered aloud.

“Have you been practicing the exercises I suggested to help free your mind and taking the Xanax as prescribed?”

“No, we’ve been pretty busy.”

I wanted to speak up but didn’t know where the boundaries lay concerning this situation. I’d never been one for doctors when I was physically sick. Outside of the initial mandatory sessions, Sal had us each attend after the accident, I’d never been to a therapist’s office either.

“Too busy to take care of yourself?” her question was laced with doubt, as it should’ve been. He was lying through his teeth, and she knew it too.

“Easton,” I said, taking his hand in mine, “please don’t do this.”

He drew in a deep breath, exhaling before beginning again. “I um, I quit taking the Xanax a month ago,” he announced, shocking the hell out of both of us.

Well, that explains the agitation…amongst other things.

“Why would you do that without first consulting me?” she asked him.

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