Everybody's been on my case lately about the entire thing. Allie's been the worst. Having him back from the dead should have been great. But he ignored me. He stared at me with an uncharacteristic smirk. Allie grins, he doesn't smirk. He's not a snake, he wasn't a snake. The smirking doesn't fit him - not even a little, but that's what he's doing sitting there: sitting there and smirking at me. He's sitting Indian style on the chair in the corner. It's the only other furniture in here besides my bed. It's for the doctor and visitors. It's amazing how often you see people when you're supposed to be in isolated observation. "He's playing me. I know it. I already told you Allie was always one of those intellectual types. He was always trying to make people solve puzzles and riddles. D.B. never liked it. He said if you have something to say, say it. Of course if it doesn't sound like it came out of some crack pot college professor that meant you'd have to shut up. There had to be some "eloquence" or whatever in it. Better known as, half-ass theory that some old rich dude came up with meaning I should usually keep my trap shut. Allie shifts so that his right foot is on the ground and his left foot is resting on his knee. His hands splayed calmly on the armrests, exactly how D.B. sits. D.B.'s supposed to visit soon and that has to be it.
It's a game, a riddle, and it's got something to do with D.B. I stare Allie down, giving him an once over. I smirk and raise an eyebrow to let him know that I'm going to win. We may not have played in a while, but I always won before - undefeated in fact, I swear. The kid should know by now not to challenge his older brother. When we were younger and Allie was alive and everything, we would always play games. Now I'm lousy at a lot of things. I'll admit it 'cause it's true. And Allie, being so smart and all; he beat me at a lot of games, just about everything we played. He was just that good, I swear. But I could win at this - at riddles I mean. Surprising, I know. Allie's the smart one, after all. Besides I'm usually not into that kind of stuff. You know the kind of stuff that people say to make them seem ten times smarter than they are. Say you're chewing the fat with someone and all of a sudden they drop in this quote from a damn Dickens' novel or something. Automatically everyone's going to think they're this really big hot shot who reads big fancy novels all the time when he really only read the first part of A Tale of Two Cities, but carries it around like a bible with a book mark stuck three-fourths into the book. Man I'll tell you, I really hate that stuff, I really do. But people go nuts about it; I'll tell you. Everybody starts smoking their ears off and they stand straighter than ever as they try to quote something back to prove that they're real smart too, when they only prove that they can actually read. Riddles are the worst though. They can turn an actual good conversation to crap. I'm serious. Nothing good can come of a riddle – especially in the middle of a decent conversation. The guys trying to tell the riddle are just trying to one up the other and make him sore. But then he gets sore if the other guy gets it right. It's nothing but one big phony competition to see who the worst is, I swear. It isn't like that with Allie though. Allie's too good a kid for something like that. He always knows how to make it fun; I swear that's just how he is with games. I tilt my head to the right and left cracking my neck in the process to show him I'm ready. Allie's smirk widens. Just then the nurse comes in to tell me I have a visitor waiting downstairs. She's alright as far as nurses go, but she's still a nurse. So I just nod to let her know I heard and she closes the door. I hide my smile because the last thing I need is for them to think I'm getting anything out of the stay here. But now it's time for my first session of treatments. It seems the hope is that a regular dose of guilt administered by my family will help keep me grounded. Maybe even learn to act my age and "quit this tantrum." D.B.'s up first.
Patient: Holden Caulfield
Intake Date: Tuesday, February 20, 1951
Today's Date: Saturday, February 24, 1951
Condition: N/A
Treatment Plan: Guilt
Administrator: D.B. Caulfield
(Beginning of session)
D.B.: Holden. How are you feeling?
Holden: [emotionless] Lousy.
D.B.: [Looks at Holden's bound wrist before running his hands back through his hair] Yeah.
Holden: [raises an eyebrow]
Initial impression: D.B.'s spooked by his little brother. How cute.
D.B.: I brought you something. It's a novel by Sherwood Anderson. It's called Winesburg, Ohio. Have you heard of it?
Holden: No.
D.B.: It's a good book. Some say it rambles with no plot, but I think you could appreciate it.
Holden: …
D.B.: It's a coming of age story; therefore, I thought it would be more interesting to you.
Ongoing impression: He flew all the way here only to pass on a book? Strange.
D.B.: You will read it won't you?
Holden: [Shrugs, stares at the chair in the corner].
D.B.: [sighs]. Well if you do will you promise me something…
Promise me you will tell me what you think of the book. About the main character, George – that's his name – and his role. Oh, and a few parts in particular called, "Queer," "Mother," and "Death." You will talk to me about it, yes?
Side Note: I shouldn't have laughed when he said death. But Allie acted out the titles acting very flinty for the first one, then cradling a body, and finally choking himself before going limp in the chair. He sits up quick so I don't worry and I laugh with relief. He knows as well as I do that D.B.'s shooting the crap.
Holden: Sure, I guess D.B.
D.B.: [Nods]
End Notes: D.B. barely looked me in the eye once. He didn't want to be here anymore than I do. Ironically he couldn't say a single thing on his mind and he flew all the way out here from California! He never even sat down for Christ sakes. Also I need to tell Allie to lay off the death jokes.
Patient: Holden Caulfield
Intake Date: Tuesday, February 20, 1951
Today's Date: Saturday, February 24, 1951
Condition: N/A
Treatment plan: Guilt
Administrator: Phoebe Caulfield
(Beginning of session)
Phoebe: Hi, Holden.
Holden: Hey.
Initial Impression: Allie's sitting on the edge of his seat now leaning forward with both feet on the floor. He's listening attentively and I hope he doesn't make fun of old Phoebe. I really hope he doesn't. That wouldn't be like him at all.
Phoebe: Are you feeling better?
Holden: [He shrugs. He's still looking at the chair.]
Phoebe: [She comes to stand beside Holden's bed. She jumps so that she's sitting on the edge with her feet kicking back and forth. She rests her open hand on Holden's fist.] I've written another Hazle Weatherfield story.
Holden: Really?
Phoebe: [Nods] Hazle's new case isn't about someone else. It's about her dad and where he goes when he's not around.
Side note: Allie imitates Phoebe's mouth movements with his hand like a puppet while he points his left index finger to his head and circles it in the universal sign for crazy.
Holden: [growls at Allie.] Where does he go?
Phoebe: [Her hand tightens around Holden's.] I don't know yet. But when Hazle figures it out, her dad will get to stay with her all the time.
Side Note: Allie balls his hands and rubs at his eyes to pretend like he's crying. Holden growls low in his throat at his little brother.
End Notes: The session ends then as Phoebe has no idea what to say to her brother who has gone into a near feral trance.
Patient: Holden Caulfield.
Intake date: Tuesday, February 20, 1951
Today's date: Sunday, February 25, 1951
Treatment: Guilt
Administrator: Linda Caulfield
(Beginning of session)
Linda: Are you feeling alright, Holden? Are you warm?
Holden:
Linda: What was wrong yesterday? Phoebe said you seemed 'possessed.'
Initial impression: My mother wasn't like this when Allie was alive. Sure she was always nervous as hell, but she used to know how to deal with it. I swear any problem you had: just tell her and she could fix it. She was especially good with Allie and my father – a median between them almost. My father would want Allie to try another sport, (I think he thought Allie acted too flinty) and Allie would rather go see a symphony. "Unusual for a young boy" is what my father said, but that's what Allie wanted and what he got, thanks to my mother. Now though, all she could ever ask was stupid crap like if we were warm. Like me being cold has any goddam thing to do with me being crazy. Sometimes to me she looks like she's unraveling. Allie smirks again before pretending to chew on his nails while he sakes. Holden can hear Allie's teeth chatter. Holden clenches his jaw.
Linda: Holden! Holden, dear you shouldn't be able to get that upset. It's not healthy.
Holden: [snorts]
Linda: That is very rude young man. I am trying to talk to you. Look at me, Holden.
Holden: [Continues to stare at the chair.]
Linda: [Sits down in the chair] Holden, I want to help you. I don't want to lose you. Holden? Holden!
Holden: [panicked] Allie!
Linda: [frowns] I'm going to get the doctor, sweetie. I'll be right back.
End notes: Allie may be turning into a rotten bastard, but I just got him back. When my mother sat down it was like he was gone, he really was. Just up and vanished. And he's still not back.
Patient: Holden Caulfield
Intake date: Tuesday, February 20, 1951
Today's date: Tuesday, February 27, 1951
Treatment: Guilt
Administrator: James Caulfield
(Beginning of session)
Initial impression: I feel sick to my stomach and I bet I don't look too hot either. I don't have a mirror, but I know I look green. That's how I always look when I'm nauseous and feeling gripy – like a green apple. I do, I really I do. My father's visiting. He took off working with some crummy bastards, just to see me. I'm flattered, I really am.
James: Holden. [He sits in the chair.]
Holden: That's my name.
James: Don't be smart with me.
Side note: Allie shows up then sitting on the arm rest. His smirk seems more like a smile now. It's rather nice honestly. I grin at him.
James: Just what is so funny?
Holden: Nothin'. [He still grins.]
James: Do not say 'nothing' when someone's trying to engage in a conversation with you. It's rude. Also, don't ignore me or lie when I ask you a question. Do you understand how serious this entire situation is, Holden? I'm sure everything will seem really grand and funny when you look back at it when you're older. Maybe you will write a novel about the weekend you threw the biggest tantrum of your life and maybe people will actually be bored enough to read the musing of a twelve year old, but this is reality right now.
Holden: [wrinkles his nose.] I hate that word.
James: In a year you will be eighteen and on your own. This chance to help you [he waves his 'hand' to the room] will not be available then.
Side note: Allie is going all out for this one. He's up and stomping around the room and waving his hands around like a goddam madman. I swear he's damn near killing me. I laugh in spite of myself.
James: Or this will be your only option. Holden… you are worrying a lot of people. Your brother and sister – your mother… even Mr. Antolini. Holden, this childish attention seeking has to stop.
Side note: Allie turns on his heel between me and my father. He's looming over me with that same old grin. "You are a disgrace to this entire family young man! You don't appreciate any of the useless, rich, phony things I do for you to make myself look good," Allie yells. I jump at first, but smile so big my whole face feels like it's going to split in two, I swear. Allie, encouraged, raises his hand to point at me while he talks. "Why can't you just grow up and be more like your brother, D.B., act more like Allie or me. Why can't you act like anyone other than yourself? I can't tell people I have a son that's a near high school dropout and in a mental institution. Why didn't you die instead of Allie!?" Allie screams the last part at the top of his lungs. My smile falters then. Allie shrugs and glances at our father, almost to say 'don't look at me.' I nod real resigned because I know it's true. My father's a phony. Probably the king of all phonies, I swear. He never wanted to say it because how would that sound? A hot show lawyer, who's supposed to prove that his side's in the right, wants his son dead. But he didn't have to. Allie just did his greatest imitation yet of what our father was really like and it killed me, it really did. It wasn't that funny honestly, but I'd never heard it said out loud before. So I said it again.
Holden: Why didn't I die instead of Allie? [He laughs raucously]
James: Holden, you can't say things like that in here.
Holden: [still laughing] Why didn't I die instead of Allie?
James: Holden! Do you want to stay here? Holden, control yourself!
Holden: [His laugh turns to crying. He yells.] Why didn't you die instead of Allie?! [He cries.]
James: [Leaves]
End note: My father came back with a nurse. It's funny, that's how my father acted the night I got sick. I was crying too much for him so he left. I wasn't jerking around like before so she didn't have to redo either of the cable ties around my wrists. She just sort of tries to calm me down by stroking my hair. It's weird, but I kind of like it in a sad sort of way. My father leaves soon after, but Allie's still here so that's okay.
Author's Note: So basically this was a creative writing assignment I wrote about a month ago. I got a good grade so I decided to post it. I hope you at least enjoyed it.