In which Mr. Smith, leaving behind a sizeable donation, decides to set forth on a new adventure.
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The following days were taken up with seemingly endless meetings, discussions, and psychotherapy. It was the mission of this halfway house not only to get me ready for 'life on the outside', but also to start to probe into why and how I ended up here in the first place.
I had no scars on my body, but did find out after a particularly alarming discussion with yet another doctor, that I had been pulled from a car wreck several months ago, not breathing and assumed dead.
Pressing him for more particulars, I had become increasingly agitated, so he begged off and set another meeting for a few days after to revisit the topic 'in a more relaxed environment'. This, according to him, would help me to come to terms with my current amnesic situation that much faster.
After that meeting I was not really aware of much around me, lost in thought about what had happened, and who I ultimately was or could be.
A car wreck...No information, no identification, nothing? This was my old life we were talking about, and I could not escape a cold overwhelming feeling that this empty space, this hole, was something that was going to gnaw at me forever if I couldn't somehow piece it back together.
My quest then had begun, and I suddenly needed to find out everything, and fast. I wasn't getting anything done here in this office park. Chalk up another insight into my psyche - I'm not a patient guy.
Making up my mind then to leave, I approached the main office area to ask them about what rights I did have as a patient, and what the process might be to leave. Unfortunately, the staff liason at the front desk this particular day was none other than Molly the lesbian.
We had seen each other occasionally in the last week since our little sharing episode with her girlfriend, and each time her eyes averted quickly and she stalked away, arms folded, angry, blushing. I could understand it, but personally I felt quite blameless in the whole affair, it was not my prodding (well technically I suppose it was) that had caused whatever rift had developed between the two of them. It was her batshit crazy partner who had engineered that whole entertainment.
Be that as it may, Molly's cold glances and attitude were not unnoticed by her coworkers, and I would occasionally hear them discussing her generally pissy and butch demeanor towards other women. And other men. The poor girl was just, well, angry.
This particular morning, I had no patience for anything save getting some info on how to get the hell out of this place. Fuck it, she'll just have to deal.
Approaching the staff desk, I said with my most winning smile, "Good morning, Molly, I hope the day finds you bright and cheery?"
She glanced up from her paperwork at the desk, did a quick scan of the room and looked back down. The room was in fact completely empty excepting the two of us.
"Fuck you." The words were still delicious, coming from that little high pitched voice. She sounded like she had smoked a pack of cigs a day for years. Uncanny.
"Mmmm. So, I have a question maybe you can help me with."
"Why the fuck would I help you, asshole. Go away. Come back later and talk to someone else."
"I want to know now. Can a patient just up and leave here?"
She looked up at me for a moment, then down again at her hands. "You want...you want to leave?"
"Yep."
"Oh." She seemed a little taken aback. "Well, sure, you'll need a doctor's orders to officially go."
"And if I don't have the orders?"
"Then, well I dunno, no one ever does that. Everyone waits for the doctor's release."
"OK thanks, Molly." I smiled then turned to go.
"Sure, fine. Good luck out there, you'll need it." Her voice had the slightest tinge of petulance. My goodness, Molly, are you going to miss me?
"My goodness Molly, are you going to miss me?" Oh fuck, I just said it. Unbelievable.
She dagger-eyed me, then looked around the room again, and said in her sexiest, gravelliest, most pissed off voice, "You can take that cock sucking dick of yours and stick it up your own ass, asshole. Fuck off."
And with that she stood up and walked thru the back office door, sealing the whole scene with a slam that shook a crappy piece of art off the wall. Fuck off, indeed.
* * * *
On the day I planned to leave this shithole, I packed up what little belongings there were: a toothbrush and toothpaste, some underwear, stuff like that. They had given me an old smartphone with wifi and a camera but no service plan, not that there was anyone I could really call. Em had called on the main phone a few times, but Sarah I had heard nothing from. Em seemed to think Sarah had a new boyfriend so she was occupied enough with that.
There was no suitcase, but I had seen what looked like a delivery bag in one of the hallways so I borrowed that, permanently. I was ready to head on out and start my life again, and maybe find out enough about who I used to be to hopefully even get some of that life back. If it was worth having.
A knock on the door and I put the bag on the floor behind the bed. I didn't want a scene when I left, just wanted to slip out unnoticed and leave it at that.
"Yep!" I answered, thru the door.
"It's Stan, we shifted a meeting up, need you in 10 or 15 in the North room."
Well, fuck. OK, will do a last doctors meeting than be on my way. It was still early, before 11.
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