This is it, the final chapter. Hope everyone enjoys.
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Chapter 7
I sat in the reception office of Dr. Klein, having checked in a few minutes earlier than the email suggested. The room was like many others I had been in, with joined chairs covered in floral designs, end tables with magazines that nobody ever really reads and landscape art screwed to the wall. The receptionist was an older lady, probably in her 60's. Her grey hair betraying the extensive makeup she wore to hide her age.
As I sat there, my mind began to wander, thinking of all the times I had spent in offices just like this, with doctors who would smile and nod, taking notes in thick books, looking at me over their stereotypical horn rim glasses. My hands became clammy, my forehead beading with sweat. I really hoped this time was different.
Dr. Klein opened the door to the back, smiling and laughing with the patient he had just finished with. To my surprise, he was nothing like what I had expected. He was tall and thin, wearing a striped polo shirt with khaki pants. From what I could tell he was young, no more than 30.
"Andrew?" He asked, as if there was anyone else in the room. His voice was higher pitched than I was expecting, but I guess my expectations had been wrong so far.
"That's me," I replied, standing. We shook hands before he led me back to his office.
I was met with another surprise, no couch. In its place was a pair of large plush armchairs covered in dark cloth. Taking in the room, I saw several bookcases full of books, and not just of psychiatry. Interspersed were classics such as The Illiad, Moby Dick, and various works of Shakespeare. What really caught my eye was his large volume of the complete works of H.P. Lovecraft.
His desk was cherry oak, with a small computer, several pictures and a phone. Artwork covered the walls, making the room feel homely and nice. On top of a low bookshelf was a shadow box, containing a folded American flag, various medals and a Hospital Corpsman patch.
"Well doc," I said with a laugh. "You've surprised me."
"How so?" He asked.
"I was expecting the usual stuffy office of most psychiatrists, not something more like a home office."
"Thank you. I try and keep things as normal as I can, it helps the patients to settle in and get more comfortable. Helps them to open up."
"I see you were a Corpsman."
"Yes, 8 years. Saw duty in Iraq three times."
We chatted about our experiences, mostly focused on mine, with him telling tales once in a while. I knew this session was mostly about building trust, something others hadn't tried to do. I really began to respect the man, his time overseas was much like mine, both of us serving in a shitty environment with borderline incompetent leadership.
"So, how do you feel?" Dr. Klein asked me.
"About what?"
"About this therapy?"
"You haven't scared me away yet," I joked. "Honestly though, I think this will help."
"Good. I don't follow a formal method with PTSD patients, as each case manifests itself differently. I do however, have some homework for you."
"OK, shoot."
"Anytime you have an episode, I want you to write down the trigger as best you can remember. From there, we can devise a plan for treatment."
"I don't know doc, that's an awful lot of work," I joked.
"I'm sure even a Marine can do it," he shot back.
"Ouch, you cut me deep there doc."
We shared a laugh, heading for the door. He showed me out and called for the next person, who sat quietly in the waiting room. On my way home, I stopped and got a small notebook and a box of pens.
As I pulled up to the house, I noticed a car parked on the street with Wyoming plates. We live quite a long way from Wyoming and really don't know anyone out there aside from some operators at the Sinclair refinery in Rawlins. I was nervous as I walked to the door, not knowing what to expect. I opened the door and heard a familiar voice as I entered.
"Hell, its about time you showed up."
"Ronny Tyler," I said with a smile. "I thought you weren't getting in till tomorrow morning."
"Plans changed," he said, hugging me. "We caught an earlier flight."
"That must be your rental car out there then."
"Just as observant as always. How you been?"
"Good man, just got back from my first therapy session."
Tyler's jaw hit the floor. "Holy shit, I thought you'd sworn off therapy?" He asked, astonished.
"The boss of me said I should go," I said, hanging my head for dramatic effect.
"Who's the boss of you?"
"That would be me," Becky said, coming in behind me. "Hi Tyler."
"Hi Becky," Tyler said with a smile. "Is he treating you right?"
"Of course he is," she said, hugging him.
"If I don't, she'll beat my ass," I added.
"So I've been told," Tyler said. "Where's Carl? I was hoping to meet him."
"Work, slaving away for the man. He should be home around 6."
"Damnit. Oh well."
"Tyler, who let you in?" Becky asked.
"Your sister. Her and Ryan are talking in the back room."
"Good, I was hoping they would hit it off," I said.
We talked for a while, Lauren and Ryan not making an appearance until almost dinner time. The two were laughing and joking, acting like old friends. It made me happy that they had hit it off so well, and by the way Becky was smiling at me, I think she felt the same.
Dinner was spaghetti and ravioli with meatballs, Carl's favorite. If you ask him, he will tell you my mother's is his favorite, but I have heard him say that about many peoples food. We ate, with Tyler and Carl dominating the conversation, the two having heard a lot about each other and really getting to know each other.
"So what's the plan?" Tyler asked.
I looked from Becky to Carl, both had the same look I did.
"Smokey's," Becky said. "Definitely Smokey's."
"What's Smokey's?"
"Our locally famous watering hole. You'll love it," I said. "Drinks and music and maybe a fight or two. It's right up your alley."
"Hell, I'm down. Ryan, you in?"
Ryan had been fairly quiet since he had arrived, speaking only a few words to anyone but Lauren. It was borderline creepy, but I wasn't going to say anything yet.
"Are you going?" Ryan asked Lauren.
"Of course, Smokey's is the best place in town. You'll love it, I promise."
"OK, I'm in."
"Great, get cleaned up. Carl and I will take care of these dishes and we will go when we're ready," I said.
"I'll help with the dishes," Tyler offered.
"Nope, we got this. You're the guest, you go get ready," Carl said.
Tyler looked to me for support, but there was none to be found. He knew how I felt about guests doing work, but I was surprised that Carl had beaten me to telling him no. Guess my manners were starting to rub off on him.
"Fine, usual bar attire is fine?" Tyler asked, defeated.
"Yeah, presentable but casual. Your usual."
Tyler went to get changed while Carl and I cleaned up. Around the halfway done mark, Carl went to go shower and change, having gone straight to the dinner table when he got home.
Lauren and Becky were the first ones out, both wearing short dresses and boots. When I had finished putting the leftovers away and started the dishwasher, I went to hug Becky.
"You look ravishing," I said as I held her.
"I know, there is a method to my madness," she said before kissing me.
"There is?" I asked jokingly. "I thought it was just madness."