Recovery
It was Carla's fifth appointment with the psychiatrist. Michelle and Maria had driven her into town because they were worried that her drinking had gotten worse. Carla had tried to explain to them both that the sessions were only making things worse, but Michelle wouldn't hear it. So here Carla was back in Dr. Harrington's office, wasting away a perfectly beautiful Thursday afternoon better spent at the Rovers. Dr. Harrington smiled at Carla with her crystal blue eyes so warm and friendly they automatically made Carla hostile and reclusive.
"How are you doing today Carla?" Dr. Harrington inquired. She smiled as she sat down on the black leather sofa across from Carla. She reached onto the brown coffee table separating the two ladies to offer Carla a mint from her complimentary tray.
"I am fine," replied Carla promptly and abrasively. She was determined not to share anything with this woman today, as she had not bothered to at previous sessions. Maybe then the doctor would get a clue, Carla thought.
"Well Michelle tells me you have been drinking a lot lately."
Wow Carla thought she wastes no time, she just gets right into attack mode ridiculing my life.
"I always drink," Carla responds making sure to emphasize the irritation in her voice.
"Well more than usual then," says Dr. Harrington ignoring Carla's obvious annoyance.
"Oh I suppose Michelle has been keeping count, no doubt so she can report to you and my probation officer what a lost cause I am. Well good for Michelle she loves to run her mouth, why not make a career out of it spying on me for a bunch of fools."
"She is a concerned friend Carla. She is just worried about you—"
"She is my sister in law and she isn't worried about me, she just wants a project so she can take her mind off this week."
Dr. Harrington leans back into the couch adjusting the sleeves on her gray cardigan. She looks at Carla her blue eyes gleaming as though she has just made break though on something. Her face is satisfied, and then just as promptly she composes it as grave and concerned.
" I understand this week has been extremely difficult for you. Would you like to talk about it?"
Carla can feel an intense anger taking over her body. How dare she bring up the topic of this week? It has been five years dammit and Carla just wants to forget what everyone is determined she can't. How dare this doctor even bring up the topic of-
"-Liam has been dead for 5 years now this week, I understand."
Carla needs to compose herself; Dr. Harrington has bought up the topic Carla was adamant she never wanted to talk about within these walls. She feels a volcanic rush of anger and grief swelling deep from within the pit of her stomach. She is so badly in want of a drink at the moment.
"Liam is a topic I'd rather not talk about", Carla answers trying to steady her voice.
" I understand that Miss Connor, but it seems as though you list of prohibited topics grows bigger each week. First we aren't allowed to talk about your childhood, your mother, your brother, Paul, Liam, Tony. I mean where does the list end Carla? How can I help you if you don't talk?"
"How about you don't and just say you do, " Carla says curtly. "That way Michelle is happy thinking she is saving my life , you still get paid generously might I add, and I, well I get to be happy keeping my life private and indulging in a little drink here and there. It is a win win for everyone."
"Carla you can't be all that happy, you are drinking yourself into an early grave. Your friend's care about you, they don't want to lose you. Michelle told me she found you passed out in the street next to the Rovers last Tuesday. Her and Maria had to get you home. Is that what happy is for you?"
Carla wanted to roll her eyes. She looked at the lady sitting across from her with her beautiful blonde hair, perfectly manicured nails, and winning smile and felt nothing but hate. What did she know about anything? How dare she sit there and tell Carla what was good for her, and how dare she judge.
Dr. Harrington continued, "And even if it is happiness for you it is not fair to Maria or Michelle to have to take care of you all the time."
"I never asked them to," Carla's raised her voice. She was feeling deadly. She wanted to ring the doctor's neck out.
"That's not the point," Dr. Harrington responded curtly. "It seems to me that this week is always hard on you. I have looked over your file extensively and each year around or on the date of Liam's anniversary you end up at the hospital. Sometimes your wrists are cut, sometimes it's alcohol poisoning. I have the file right here if you'd like for me to read it to you." Dr. Harrington reaches for a thick brown folder on her right hand side.
"That won't be necessary," Carla tucks her dark brown hair behind her ears shocked at the nerve and guts of the doctor.
"Then perhaps you better talk, say something because the evidence in front of me is damming enough Carla. You don't talk now you'll have to talk when the drinking takes over your life so much you can't even keep a job anymore, you lose your house, and all those nice clothes you wear. Eventually you will lose Michelle, Maria, everything tying you to the Liam. Your choice."
" Fine you want me to talk, I'll talk all day doctor. Where do you want me to start? How about I hate my life, I am down right miserable actually. I constantly think about offing myself, and when I am not thinking about that I am thinking about drinking." Carla paused observing the Doctors expressionless blue eyes and continued. "I drink because life is a party, one fucked up crazy party and I drink so I don't have to bother myself with thinking or feeling. I don't want to feel because feeling is overrated. I drink so I don't have to know Monday from Friday. How is that Dr. Harrington, is that enough talk?"
Dr. Harrington leaned forward on the couch intently making the space between the two women more intimate. And with concern she asked, "Why don't you want to know Monday from Friday Carla?"
Carla played with her hair once more, positioning herself closer to the doctor as well. She thought of all the times people acted like her drinking was some unique occurrence known only to her. Michelle acted like she never drank a day in her life, and Maria she seemed to be doing better then she should. But what about her? Carla felt like everyone's resilience around her was consuming even threatening. She wasn't as strong as Michelle, as forgiving as Maria, as spiteful as Helen and Barry. She had no amour of which to keep her safe from the only man she had ever loved, she was standing in an open field naked and exposed. She hated it, she hated loving Liam and she hated missing him to.
She chose her words carefully and opened her mouth so to deliver each syllable raw and cold for what they were. She so badly wanted a drink to get rid of the impending lump in her throat.
"You know I don't even remember his voice anymore. I had known him all my life and one day I tried to remember what he sounded like. Closed my eyes and everything, concentrated really hard on it but nothing." Carla was staring into Dr. Harrington's eyes her own eyes mirroring Carla's sorrow. "Each day is just one more thing I forget, until one day I won't even be able to remember what he looked like, his unique smell, anything at all. I drink so I can speed up this evitable fact, if I forget now versus tomorrow what would be the difference really? Doesn't change the fact that he is still gone."
There was a silence between the two women for a time. Dr. Harrington seemed to be processing the information Carla had just given her. She had pity in her eyes and Carla thought her pity was wasted.
"Carla, thank you for sharing that with me. It must have been very difficult."
Carla nodded her head in agreement but thought to herself it wasn't. It was the truth her horrible truth. She was just ready to go home now