Page 24 of Shadowman
I’m fully aware that the creepy bear I’ve been talking to since I was a child isn’treal. I believe him to be more of a coping mechanism for extreme trauma and chronic loneliness. And yes, that’s a lot sadder than if Iwereclinically unwell. But the truth is, I enjoy having him around.
Leo is my imaginary friend. A version of my old teddy bear I had as a kid. Sadly, I lost the toy when I ran away from home at eleven. I was devastated, until one day, like magic, Leo showed up. Large and maybe a bit frightening to look at. But tome, he was perfect.
He was my friend, imaginary or not. A manifestation of exactly what I needed, who popped upexactlywhen I needed him.
He’s been around ever since, and I’m afraid I’m too attached to let him go at this point. He was alwayshere, even when I was still taking my meds, which is all the proof I need that seeing and hearing him doesn’t mean I’m in some fit of untreated psychosis.
I suppose my past is only one part of what someone would need to accept if they were going to enter a real relationship with me…
“And what about the other day at work?”Leo goes on as we enter the apartment. I sigh, tossing my keys onto the table.Just because he’s my lifelong imaginary friend doesn’t mean he’s not fully exhausting sometimes.“If I didn’t care about your well-being, would I have warned you about that perverted client?”
“Yea, some good it did me…” I toss the bag of cheap processed food—the only kind I can afford now—onto the counter, then stagger to the couch, plopping down with an exhausted sigh. “I lost the best job I’ve ever had. Theonlyreal job I’ve ever had… Now what am I going to do for money??”
He’s quiet for a moment before sitting down by my side.“You can’t expect me to do all your thinking for you, mate.”
Rolling my eyes, I lean back, staring up at the ceiling. “What do you think Dr. Love is doing right now?”
“Pfft. Who needs him.”Leo fiddles with his rusty ninjatos.“Big, fancy shrink with his fancy new job in New York… Good riddance. You’re better off.”
I’m not sure that I agree, but I nod anyway, suddenly so very tired. I wish like hell I could just close my eyes and get some rest… But it won’t happen. I end up sitting on the couch for hours, just staring. Until eventually, I get up and pace around my apartment, pretending to clean, when really, I think I’m making more of a mess.
The next thing I know, it’s nine-thirty in the morning. I have no idea where the time went, but I have to get ready for my appointment with the replacement doctor.
The cheap Dr. Love knock-off.
Please. That guy isnothinglike Dr. Love. He doesn’t even have dreadlocks!
Just another affable old fool acting like he gets it, when he hasn’t the slightest bloody clue. Charlatans.
Making my way to his office, I’m stewing all the while. Things have really fallen apart for me since Dr. Love left, though I refuse to admit it. Ihateto give him that much credit, since dropping me as a client was as easy for him as tossing something into the garbage. Either way, I think it’s evident that I’ve been better…
I lost my job. A job I truly enjoyed, by the way. I think they could tell something was up with me, but I convinced myself it was nothing. Still, I was showing up later and later, more and more disheveled. And then one day, this massage client came in who reminded me of someone from my past…
Let’s just say, it didn’t go over well.And now I’m unemployed and falling detrimentally behind on my bills.
I’m also off my prescribed medication and back to self-medicating. Bonkers how easily it happened, too. I haven’t useddrugs since before I was arrested, which was nearly eight years ago at this point. And yet the moment things get rough, I slip right back into it, as easily as breathing. Imagine, all that clean time down the drain…
I didn’t realize I was such a junkie.
“Dr. Callahan will see you now,” the cheerful girl at the desk says, barely thirty seconds after I arrive.
“What’s she have to be so chipper about?”Leo grunts, and I hold my hand up to him.
“Stay out here.”
I know he’s pouting, but I don’t care. Dealing with Callahan is annoying enough without Leo in the room commenting on everything and distracting me.
Striding into his office, I close the door behind me, placing him immediately. My newdoctor.
Ugh. I suppose I should get used to him.
In my initial naivety, I thought Dr. Love might return after a few weeks. I held out some hope that he’d be back when he finished his special job in New York—which was apparentlysoimportant that he left his whole life here in Atlanta behind. Foolishly, I inferred—when he was breaking up with me—that it was atemporaryposition.
But it’s been two whole months. And I’m stuck with Dr. Callahan, the dopey prick who, despite cominghighly recommendedby Dr. Love, is entirely too much of ashrink.
He’s a dime-store therapist, when Dr. Love was the real deal, a true behavioral psychiatrist.
It’s like going from Debussy to theTitanicsoundtrack.
