Monster Trucks and Therapy
"Look Maggie, I'm just saying you need to put yourself out there more," Dr. Snider said.
"Like how?" I asked confused.
"When is the last time you went out, had a drink, or went on a date?"
The thought was terrifying. Going out was always a last resort, I wasn't sick, I just didn't like people. The world was full of people like me, people worse than me too.
"The next time some one asks you out for a drink, or a movie, or even dinner you should just say yes." She suggested.
"I don't think that's a good idea," I responded.
"It could be a real learning experience," she pointed out.
I rolled my eyes not really keen on the idea.
"What if they're a perfect stranger? Did you see that movie Fatal Attraction? I did, it scared the hell out of me." I argued.
"Why, why must you make things so difficult? It's like this, were not making any progress here. We haven't been for months. If you want me to keep treating you, you have to start taking my advice. That's how this whole process works. Are you afraid of experiencing your life?"
"Not all experiences are good," I said in my defense.
She threw her hands up in the air and then leaned in close to me staring me directly in the face.
"Let's try this, the next time someone asks you out, say yes. I don't care if it's Jack the Ripper get out of your house! Until you do, don't bother coming in for your next appointment."
"You can't do that!" I shrieked.
"I most certainly can; and our time is up," she said looking at her watch. "This is going to be a good thing for you, wait and see."
I slumped over to get my things and walked out of the office defeated. There had to be ethical issues here, or something that would entitle me to be treated. I could go somewhere else, but my mother had recommended this doctor. I always took my mother's advice, even if it was bad. Why couldn't my therapist talk about that? Why did we have to talk about relationships?
I stepped inside of my apartment and locked the door behind me, resting my back against it. It's not my fault I wasn't social, I didn't have any friends or anyone that really understood me and I was so busy anyway, what was the point in looking? Really we should have talked about time management; that would have made more sense.
Just then the door buzzer went off. I jumped slightly as I turned to open it. It was my neighbor Bridget, the one with three screaming children. She had one on her hip and another was standing behind her.
"I need your help," she started.
I looked at her frustrated; I had lent her money, sugar, and even watched her children, back before I knew better.
"What do you need?" I asked curious and irritated at the same time.
"Joey is really sick and I have just been called back into work. My mother is coming to pick up Ethan and Alex but she refuses to watch Joey." She began.
I could see this was going to require me doing something or watching someone.
"Will you take Joey to the clinic and then run him to my office? If I miss any more work my boss is going to fire me." She said seeming desperate. Bridget was one of the many people in this world that thought she was friends with everyone so asking favors of anyone was never difficult for her.
I sighed as I dragged my hands through my hair. "I guess I can do that." I relented.
"Great, thanks so much. You remember where my office is right?" She asked.
I nodded as Joey walked in to the side of me. She thanked me again and then rushed off down the hall. I grabbed my coat and purse and went for the door. Joey did not say anything as he followed me around.
There was a local clinic a few miles from where we lived that Bridget frequently used, whenever her children were sick. I knew this because this was not the first time I had taken one of her children there.
As we walked into the clinic Joey was hot on my heels. I signed us in and we sat down to wait. It was not particularly crowded today, which was nice, being part of a hospital you never knew what you were coming into on any given day. Our wait time was short when I heard the nurse call my name. The usual questioning and measuring took place as we were shown into the exam room and asked to wait.
After ten or fifteen minutes the doctor finally came staggering in. He was older and walked with the assistance of a cane. Maybe it was the five o'clock shadow, the red band shirt her wore under a black blazer, or his lace up sneakers, but he didn't seem like any doctor I'd ever seen.
He grabbed the file off the wall glanced at it and then put it back.
"He has a cold," he said turning on his heel and walking toward the door.
"What?" I asked, as he reached for the door knob.
"A cold, you know, cough cough sneeze?" He said sarcastically. His demeanor was cold and he glared at us as if he couldn't figure out why we were still conversing.
"I know what a cold is."
"Great, have a nice day."
"That's it?" I asked.
"It's a free clinic you get what you pay for," he snapped.
At this I felt my blood pressure beginning to rise. Just who the hell did he think he was? I was used to being brushed off at most retail stores I visited, but in the medical world this seemed unacceptable.
"Wow you're the worst doctor I've ever met," I snapped back.
"Now, now, flattery will get you no where."
Just then Joey coughed and threw up behind me. Neither the doctor or myself moved.
"I changed my mind, he has the flu," the doctor said.
He eyed the both of us curiously, as Joey began to cry and I stood there still somewhat frozen.
"He's not your son," the doctor pointed out.
"No he's not," I said finally moving and getting a paper towel. I handed it to Joey who was still sobbing. I helped him down off his seat, taking his hand and breezed past the doctor.
"Thanks for all of your help," I said, throwing his own sarcasm back at him.
We walked through the automatic doors as they slide shut behind us.
"Your not going to do that again right?" I asked Joey wondering if we should wait before getting in the car.
"Whose kid is he?" The doctor asked limping behind us.
I turned around livid.
"What does it matter?"
"If you've kidnapped this kid I should call the authorities," he said.
"Even if I had kidnapped him—"
"Do you like monster trucks?" he interrupted.
"What?" I asked, still fuming at the mouth.
"I have tickets to go see monster trucks later tonight."
I could not tell if he was being sarcastic or just trying to further provoke me.
"You can't be serious."
"Not usually no, but I have these tickets and you won most interesting case of the day."
"You're asking me out?" I clarified. Just the sound of it was absurd. I was not an angry person by any means but I was ready to lay into this doctor and give him a piece of my mind. I would have to watch some of the wording as Joey was only in second grade, but I had faith enough in my vocabulary.
Then it dawned on me. This was the answer I'd been looking for. If I said yes, I could make my next appointment with Dr. Snider.
"Monster trucks?" I asked, thinking on it. I couldn't afford to think on it any longer if I did I was likely to chicken out.
"I'll meet you here at eight." I responded.
"Great, here's a prescription for the kid who's not yours," he said handing me a slip of paper and then turning to walk away.
The day had flown by and before long I was sitting on a wooden bench close to where I'd made the arrangements of my so called 'date'. The thought of it made me feel some what queasy. I sighed and rolled my eyes as I remembered my therapists' outlandish remarks over the phone.
"This is great, but I want you to make sure and be open to this experience, and I would also like to see some proof when you come in tomorrow for our appointment." Dr. Snider said.
"Proof? Do you want me to march him down there?" I asked frustrated.
"Could you?" She asked completely missing the point.
"I'll bring you your proof," I said hanging up.
As if people didn't think I was crazy enough. I could only imagine what this doctor would say if I asked him to please come down to my therapists office and explain to her that I actually stepped foot out of my apartment to be social.
Wait a minute, he? What was the doctor's name? Did he even give me one? I spooled back over our conversation realizing I'd never gotten his name. Oh my God I'm going out with someone, and I don't even know his name. Was that a bad thing? Maybe that's how this was done 'now a days'. I was by no means up to speed with current customs and rituals of the dating world.
My thoughts were interrupted by the loud screeching of a motorcycle driving into the parking lot. The screaming engine roared to a stop right in front of me. The trim rider wearing blue jeans and a black riding jacket pulled off his helmet and to my surprise it was the doctor.
"My God," I uttered as the full reality of my decision stood in front of me.
"Get on," he called.
"This was a bad idea," I said getting up.
He looked me through his bushy eyebrows, grinning; he was mesmerizing in the street light. I hadn't noticed it before, but he was somewhat attractive.
"Come on," he said, holding out a helmet.
"On one condition," I said.
He looked at me waiting to hear the condition, seemingly interested.
"Your name?"
"My name?" He repeated.
"Yes, I'd like your name. It's a little strange to be going out with you and not even know your name."
"Gregory House."
"Right, I'm Maggie Stansberry."
Against my better judgment I took the helmet and got on the back of his bike. I awkwardly put my arms around him hoping that I would live through this experience so I could scream at my therapist first thing tomorrow morning.
As the bike roared to life once again I felt my heart begin to race. We flew out of the parking lot and down the road like a flash. I watched everything zip by me like never before. I'd never seen this fast moving world full of streaked colors and lights. It was brilliant and soothing all at the same time.
Before I knew it we were standing in front of an arena. It was a large building surrounded by noise, lights, and people. We got in and found our seats quickly.
I should have felt uncomfortable to be out in a strange place with an even stranger person, but for some odd reason I didn't feel that way at all.
"You seem a little young to be here. You're not a monster truck kind of girl are you?" He asked with the same sarcasm from earlier.
"Not usually no. And I'm almost thirty. How old are you?"
"A lot older, does that bother you?"
"No," I answered truthfully.
"So what are you doing here?"
I looked at him baffled for a moment, it's like he'd forgotten everything that had brought us to this point.
"Well you did invite me," I said hoping he wasn't in a fit senility.
"It was a dare," he admitted.
"Someone dared you to go out with me?" I asked surprised.
"Something like that."
"Wow I'm kind of relieved."
He looked at me drawing in the lines of his face, his pale blue eyes sparking with obvious interest.
"Why?" He asked.
"For a moment there I thought you had asked me out because you were actually interested in me." I said feeling much better about the evening.
"Interesting," he commented.
"What?"
"This monster truck event has been here all month. I have brought three girls a week here for the last three weeks all with the same pretenses and you're the only one who hasn't walked out on me. You have daddy issues don't you?" He asked.
"Yes," I responded, without thinking. While he was incredibly different there was something about him that made him surprisingly easy to talk to.
"Interesting," he repeated.
"Will you stop saying that, you sound like my therapist."
"You go to therapy?"
Crap, while I hadn't wanted to get into this part of my life I guess it was too late now. "Yes," I shouted over the now roaring trucks below.
He gathered his things and stood up quickly. "Come on lets get out of here," he said.
I shrugged and followed his lead. Once outside of the arena I caught up and walked along side of him.
"Where are we going?"
"Out for drinks," he insisted
"Okay." While I didn't fancy the idea of drinking with someone I didn't know, I saw no reason to not go.
"You don't have a problem with that?"
"No," I answered.
"Interesting," he said turning around mid-stride and looking me directly in the eye. I guessed this was so I wouldn't miss that fact that he'd said it again.
I could tell he was only doing it to get a reaction. I scowled as I walked behind him and got on the back of his bike. Before long we were sitting at some hole in the wall bar staring at each other from across the table.
"So you're not seeing the therapist for the daddy issues, control issues, or marriage issues," he began.
"Actually-"
"Don't tell me, I'll figure it out," he said.
I shrugged picking up my drink and placing it to my lips. "You're never going to guess." I said taking a drink. The underlining reason stung slightly, but it was a numb pain, completely manageable at the moment.
"I'm good at puzzles. It's not aliens is it? That would be really cool. Did they probe you?"
"You got me, it was aliens; they did a lot of probing and mucking about. I didn't mind it though, being some what of a pervert. And what makes you say that it's not marriage issues?" I looked over at his grinning face once again; I was genuinely having a good time. It was great to be out and having a real conversation with someone, I'd forgotten how much I liked it.
"You're not married," he said.
"How do you know?"
"No ring, no scary ex-wife tendencies, or depression habits."
"You're a regular Sherlock Holmes."
"That guy was a moron," he said taking another drink.
The hours ticked by as we talked about everything from the moon landing to the best kind of sandwiches.
"Last call," the waitress said taking the empty shot glasses off of the table.
"Let's get out of here," he said standing up.
"You're drunk sir, and in no shape to drive." I said staggering to my feet.
"I live close by let's walk," he said.
"Very well then, but don't think just because I am severely under the influence that you can take advantage of me, I'm not desperate enough to allow that kind of nonsense," I warned. With how much I'd had to drink I was amazed that I was still able to form coherent sentences. I was proud of myself.
"We'll see," he said. We chuckled as we staggered out of the bar; grabbed the helmets off of his bike and began walking. I felt myself beginning to waiver here and there as we made our way back to his place, but not enough to draw any attention.
By the time we arrived at his apartment I could feel sobriety beginning to creep up on me. All at once I noticed that the entire place seemed more like a library, than a home. There were walls of ceiling to floor bookshelves, as well as books on every flat surface that I could see.
"Interesting," I said as I sat down.
"Do tell."
"Have you read all of these books?"
"Most of them, the rest came with this place," he said. He got out another large bottle and two shot glasses.
"I don't think I can drink any more, I feel like if I let go of your sofa I'm going to fall off of the world." I commented.
He set the shot glasses down and took a large drink from the bottle resting it on an end table and then sat down next to me. Without warning he cupped my chin in his hands looking directly into my eyes.
"Hold on to me then," he whispered. His lips met mine in one sly movement that caught me off guard. I could hear alarms going off in my head screaming at me to stop, get up, run away, do something; anything. But for some reason I couldn't protest, or even move. I was trapped in this moment with a whirlwind of thoughts swirling around my head. The synapses in my brain were firing so fast they were forcing my train of thought off the track. I knew this was a mistake and I could not be here like this with a complete stranger. But there was a dim flame that I had forgotten about burning inside of me, now being fanned.
I entertained the kiss somewhat reveling in the moment. There was no harm in that and I could keep control. It was when his lips began to part mine that I started to feel it slipping out of my hands. An over bearing conscious was trying to mask the passion and the building desire but it was no use any longer. I could feel the full weight of his body on top of mine as he leaned over me. I could feel the last circuits of sane thought beginning to short out as my hands began roaming under his shirt and over his body. In another sly movement his arms snaked around me, holding me tightly.
His kiss traveled from the corner of my mouth and down to the nape of my neck, transforming into a soft sucking motion that was accompanied by the occasional peck. I could feel his hands behind my back trying to unclasp my bra.
Somewhere in all of the logic trying to escape the overwhelming animal like instincts, the uncontrollable desire was enough to drown in. I wanted him, it was unexplainable and unexpected but it did not change that fact. Wither it was a good idea or not, I could not step outside of myself long enough to stop what I was already doing.
As I grabbed at the last button on the jeans he was wearing, the clasp gave way behind me. I was moving at the speed of light in a frantic desperation as I tore the rest of the clothes from his body. The last of the logic and coherent thought was finally lost as he slipped himself inside of me.
I opened my eyes realizing that it was much later and sat up carefully from the floor, knocking my head on an end table in the process. Another piece of the lamp we had broken slid onto the sofa, falling silently in the darkness. Greg was covered up by a blanket beside me, sharing part of the area rug. I got up carefully searching for my clothes.
Just then the logical part of my brain rebooted and started screaming at me from the confines of my own mind. Getting myself dressed, I slipped out the front door quietly undetected.
It didn't take long to hail a cab and I finally breathed a sigh of relief once I was inside buckling up.
"Amestad and first please," I said.