Chapter Notes
Thank you to my lovely reviewers for suggesting mental disorders for Clientward. Miaokuancha had an interesting idea, and Nix and Joanie came up with some hilarious diagnoses!
I ended up using Sondra's suggestion for Edward's feigned mental disorder—thank you, Sondra.
Major gratitude goes out to Leiah (Scarlett_Letters, author of Wild Swan, an awesome fic), who has been pimping Mimiteh like a madwoman. First she recommended this story for the Little Known Ficster:
thelittleknownficster(dot)blogspot(dot)?zx=a4885d30a3683587
I have enjoyed receiving many well-written, thought-provoking, and wonderful reviews of individual chapters of my stories over the years, but never before have I read a comprehensive review of my story as a whole, until Leiah wrote that masterpiece! It made me feel all warm and gooey inside.
And then, Leiah nominated Mimiteh for the Indie Twific Awards in the categories of Best New Moon Story and Best Use of a Parent. I happen to think that radiofreeamy's Charlie is the best portrayal of a parent that I've seen, but her story Visitation has too many reviews to be considered for the Indie awards. Please check out the stories and vote for your favorite! The first round of voting is 2/20/10 — 3/2/10.
www(dot)theindietwificawards(dot)com/default(dot)aspx
10. Unipolar
With a studied gaze, Jasper brushed the back of hand across Edward's lapel to spiffy him up for the appointment. The southerner's large amber eyes glowed with mischief. "Okay, darlin'; are you ready for this?"
Edward smacked his hand away, muttering, "Enough."
"This is a big day for you!" Jasper grinned. "You've got a key performance coming up. Did you rehearse your lines?"
"I'll be fine. I probably know psychiatric diagnosis better than Nina does."
"I hope you're right. But I still think you should go with Bulimia."
A growl erupted at the back of Edward's throat.
Jasper deadpanned, "Aw c'mon. We do throw up everything we eat. You'd be a natural."
Edward slowly shook his head. "You are deeply disturbed." A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Jasper turned more serious. "So you said you're skilled in psychiatric diagnosis." He tilted his head innocently. "What's it called when a patient has an abnormally low sex drive?"
"Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder," Edward answered automatically.
A wicked smile lit up Jasper's face. "There you go."
"What?"
"There's your diagnosis. You wouldn't have to act at all."
Edward's golden eyes tapered into slits. "Goodbye, Jasper!"
Jasper erupted into a fit of laughter as he bounded off into the forest, away from Forks in the Road Counseling.
Edward watched him leave with mixed feelings. While he did not want Jasper listening to this counseling session — it would be nerve-wracking enough to play the role of a therapy patient without his nosey brother listening to every word — he also felt immediately lonely upon his departure.
Stroking his chin, Edward wondered what had happened to him. He formerly thought nothing of being alone, spending hours and hours of solitude while immortals around him paired up for eternity. His family members absolutely pining for each other when they were apart was anathema to the fiercely independent 104 year-old.
Even when he had been human, he had often been alone. Back in Chicago, his father had been a stern workaholic who had advised his wife not to coddle their only son, lest she weaken him. Edward Masen Sr. had always believed that the proper way to raise a man was to teach him how to survive an unforgiving world by stoically suppressing any sign of weakness. As a result, Elizabeth Masen had resisted her natural impulses to cuddle and comfort her only child.
However, at times his mother's softness had inevitably leaked through — cradling Edward after a skinned knee, clandestinely hiding her boy's misbehavior from his father, planting a kiss on his forehead when tucking him in at night — and those were the times Edward remembered most fondly.
As he walked around the side of the white clapboard house, he felt a pang of sadness creep into him, remembering his parents. Their faces were only blurry vapors in his memory now, and his lost history left him feeling desolate and abandoned.
Wondering why he was so contemplative about his childhood, he gazed around him at the empty waiting room that he had just entered. It must have been the impending psychotherapy that had led him to reflect on his mother and father. He angrily shook his head, scooping up a clipboard containing the first session paperwork. This was about Bella, not him. He could not lose focus.
In his perfect scrawl, he wrote his pseudonym on the consent form:
Anthony Masen
He would be attempting to outwit a psychologist in order to get the information he desperately needed to keep Bella safe, and he expected to feel a sense of thrill in preparation for the subterfuge. However, writing down those two names — the names that had marked him as a human — the names that he had lost upon becoming a vampire — instead only left him feeling bereft.
Bella had wanted to become a monster just like him, leaving her identity and family behind as he had done. She could never understand the magnitude of losing one's parents, forever. While he knew that he had irretrievably hurt Bella, at least he had saved her from that horror.
~~ * ~~
It had taken merely a minute or two for Edward to complete the paperwork, and when he was finished he realized that he had not heard Nina's thoughts once since arriving to the waiting room. Given that Bella obviously wasn't in Nina's office, the mindreading block was quite puzzling. He wondered what the psychologist was doing back there in her office.
A few moments later, Nina's warm, feminine voice floated into his head.
I can't believe he got so tall she was saying to herself, and her accompanying mental image of a lofty Quileute pumping gas into a can at a Forks convenience store made it obvious that she was referring to Jacob Black. Seeing Bella's friend through Nina's eyes, Edward was also taken aback by the boy's astonishing growth in the past six months. It seemed unnatural.
There was a trickle of despondency present in Nina's unspoken words.
I wonder what he needs gas for? A lawn mower? I guess that Billy certainly can't cut the grass.
Edward heard Nina sniff as her thoughts turned to Jacob's relationship with her cousins.
Does Jacob spend time with Leah? Seth? I wish I could say hi to him or something.
Edward sensed her sadness mixing in with bitterness as she remembered peeking at Jacob from her driver's seat in her car across the street. No. He wouldn't want anything to do with me.
He heard her rustling inside the office, perhaps taking out her appointment book. Let's see, back to work . . . got a new one next . . . Anthony Masen — I wonder what he'll be like . . . then Stacie Stanley, Bethany Yorkie — I hope her pregnancy test turned out negative . . .
With a start, Edward realized that she was thinking about other psychotherapy clients, and he abruptly attempted to shut out her thoughts. However, the names she had mentioned kept reverberating in his mind. Stanley? Yorkie? Were they related to Jessica and Eric? Would they recognize him? He had better make sure that he was out of this house before the Stanley woman arrived for the next appointment.
He felt relieved that no other client shared his mindreading powers since the idea of them overhearing his own impending sessions was unnerving.
Feeling guilty upon learning the confidential identity of Nina's clients, Edward started humming to himself, hoping that he could put an end to the invasion of privacy. To his dismay, he realized that the song he was humming was no other than Bella's lullaby, and he stopped mid-hum.
Who was he kidding, pretending to worry about confidentiality? He had unflinchingly eavesdropped on two of Bella's sessions already, desperate for some scrap of insight for why she had been endangering herself. Snooping on her psychotherapy sessions had been wrong; he had known it. Yet he had done it anyway. His parents had taught him right from wrong yet he had shamelessly chosen the wrong path. His mother would be so ashamed of him.
"Tony?"
Edward looked up in shock to find Nina standing in the doorway. Venom flowed into his mouth upon her surprise entrance and he felt his muscles involuntarily coiling, preparing to spring upon her. He was furious with himself for allowing his daydreams to distract him from the present situation.
Quickly composing himself, he purposely blinked several times and coolly corrected, "It's Anthony."
"Oh," Nina blushed, "I apologize. I thought you might go by Tony." He's only eighteen, right? she asked herself. I can't imagine a boy around Adam's age calling himself such a formal name like Anthony?
Edward rose to his six-foot height. "That's alright. A lot of people assume I go by Tony since I'm just a teenager. They think Anthony is rather formal."
His answer made her suspiciously peer at him and he nervously realized that he needed to be more careful not to reveal his mindreading powers. (When they worked around her, anyway.)
"My mother wasn't really into nicknames," Edward rushed in to add. "She insisted that everyone call her Elizabeth, not Liz or Lizzie or Beth or Betsy or Bitsy. She was rather fastidious that way. I guess there are so many variations of Elizabeth that you really have to pick one and go with it, and she chose the whole name . . ."
He cringed, listening to his sudden diarrhea of the mouth. She made him incredibly anxious.
Then he wondered if his barrage of words was more intentional — perhaps he had already slipped into his role, faking a diagnosis.
Trying to recover, he flashed a dazzling smile that entranced Nina.
Damn he's cute. His eyes are amazing. And that bronze hair . . .
Edward attempted not to smirk upon overhearing her silent assessment of his appearance but he could not help but listen intently to her next thoughts.
Get your head out of the gutter, Nina Cougar! You're forty years old! Concentrate.
Nina cleared her throat. "Did you have time to finish the paperwork, um, Anthony?"
He smiled sweetly and handed her the clipboard, careful not to brush his hand against hers. Once she took it from him and began reading over his personal information, her thoughts quieted once again.
She glanced up at him and gestured to her office. "Please come in."
He settled into a lumpy chair, working diligently to adopt an adolescent slouch. His throat tickled with the faint lingering scent of Bella. She must have sat on this very chair, and he slumped back further into the cushions, thirsty for any connection to her.
"So, Anthony, you're eighteen, is that right?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Nina bristled upon hearing the starched response. "You can call me Nina."
He instinctively sat up a little. Edward thought back to the conversation Jasper had overheard between Nina and her ex-husband, and he wondered if any references to the military, like a snappy "Yes, sir" or "Yes, ma'am", might now bother her.
He nodded somberly. "Okay, Dr. Carlton."
Apparently this boy had difficulty relaxing. "You attend Forks High?"
When Edward paused, Nina hastily amended, "Or maybe you've already graduated from high school? I know young adults your age don't like it when people assume that you're younger than you really are."
You don't know the half of it, Edward thought.
"I'm in college," he lied.
"Oh. Great — I love working with college students. It's such a time of change and growth." Her smile was warm. "Before we get too far, I should go over a few things with you."
Nina went on to explain the parameters of privacy, telling him that if he was in immediate danger of harming himself or somebody else then she might have to break confidentiality in order to keep people safe. Edward was glad that Nina had not known him right after Carlisle had changed him. Back then he had been flooded by homicidal thoughts on a daily basis, which would have certainly necessitated a confidentiality breach had he revealed such thoughts in therapy.
"Any questions?" Nina asked.
"You were very quiet in here while I was in the waiting room. What were you doing?"
She looked startled by his directness. "I, um, have a white noise machine by the door to soundproof this room." Her expression became guarded, and Edward could once again hear her thoughts. Why is he asking me that? Why would he care if I was reading a client's chart?
His eyes darted to her desk, where he noticed a manila folder lying among other papers and journals. Was that Bella's chart?
When he returned his gaze to Nina, he found her staring at him distrustfully. There was a stalemate for several moments, and Edward felt a rising panic as the seconds ticked by.
Gratefully she asked another question.
"You're in your first year of Forks Community College, Anthony?"
Her thoughts had gone silent again, driving Edward crazy. He supposed that a therapy office was the best place to be if he did indeed lose his marbles.
"No, I attend the University of Washington."
"U Dub?" Nina looked incredulous. "But that's over six hours away! Why would you come to Forks for counseling?"
Drat. Edward had not thought this through. He had better not say that he had relatives in town or she might check out their identity. "My roommate and I went hiking here a few weeks ago, and we passed by this place. I didn't tell him then, but I planned to come back here for therapy."
"Why don't you go to the student counseling center?"
"Privacy. I don't want records of my psychotherapy anywhere near the university where I matriculate."
His vocabulary was impressive, and a bit stilted if she thought about it, but she supposed that his answer made some sort of sense. She scribbled a few notes and then asked, "Where are you from, Anthony?"
"Chicago."
"No kidding! I did my internship there."
Edward's face froze. He had not been to Chicago in about eighty years.
Nina looked intrigued. "What part of town are you from?"
This lying business would go a lot smoother if he could read her mind and thereby anticipate her questions. As it was, he was screwed.
"Uh, Old Town?"
"Hmm, I don't know that area well."
Thank God.
Nina resumed, "I did my internship at Northwestern."
Edward nodded. "That's an excellent school."
"Now that we know each other a little better, how about you tell me what brought you in to therapy, Anthony."
Finally a question he had prepared for. "Affective disturbance," he answered confidently.
Her brow creased and he quickly realized that his response was not what she had expected. "Mood swings, I mean," he rapidly amended.
"You're having mood swings?"
"Yes." He remembered to blink a few times, and he purposefully shifted in the chair, wafting Bella's delicious scent up to his nostrils.
"What has your mood been like the past month? Let's see . . . it's February twentieth today, so think back to January twentieth and what you were doing then."
Futilely trying to track Victoria in the Brazilian rain forest. He wondered where Victoria was now.
"How has your mood been since then? Down and blue?"
Edward nodded. That was not a lie.
Nina continued asking him questions about depression and Edward made sure to answer each symptom affirmatively, which was not difficult to do. He became increasingly appalled by the accumulating list of symptoms that seemed to fit him perfectly.
She inquired, "Do you have a family history of depression?"
Carlisle and Esme rarely seemed depressed, but he realized that Nina was asking him about his biological relatives, not his adoptive family. The ghosts of his parents shimmied into his mind once again, and he found himself overcome by melancholy. Had there been depression in his family? His mother's older brother had certainly seemed morose and irritable during family gatherings. Whenever Edward had been sullen, his mother had teased him that he reminded her of grumpy Uncle Anthony.
"Are you grumpy?" Elizabeth taunted in a sing-song voice.
"No!" Seven year-old Edward hollered, screwing up his face in anger.
"I think you are grumpy, little Anthony. And you're the cutest grump in the world."
Despite himself one side of his mouth tugged up in an involuntary smile, cracking through his petulant façade.
"Ohhhh, don't smile!" she kidded. "Don't you dare smile. Grumpy boys don't smile!"
His childish grin widened, and she matched his smile with one of her own, two sets of green eyes glimmering in the candlelight.
"Anthony?"
The sharp tone of her voice made it clear to him that she had needed to repeat his name to get his attention. Focus! he silently chided. But his thoughts again drifted back to 1918. Uncle Anthony had died from influenza as well.
He resolutely cleared his throat. "Sorry."
Nina shot him another mistrustful glance. Then she veered off in a different direction. "You said your mood has been depressed. Have there been times recently when your mood has been the opposite of down and blue, more like euphoric, like you're on top of the world? Like you can do no wrong? Like you're on a high?"
Here came the expected questions about mania, and he was eager to show off all that he knew about Bipolar Disorder. "Yes!" he nodded emphatically, appearing to be surprised that she understood his internal experience so well. "There are times when I feel quite grandiose, with inflated self-esteem." He increased the cadence of his speech to near vampire speed. "Sometimesmythoughtsrace and Ifeelreallyagitated and it'sjustawful . . ." the volume of his voice jacked up ". . . Ieasilylosemytemper and I'mbouncingoffthewalls andIfeeljitteryandconfused and Ican'tsleep and Ican'tstop and I'mreallyworriedaboutmyself."
Her inquisitive black eyes bore into him with a skeptical intensity, and he realized that he had misspoken again. He was supposed to be a college freshman, not a psychiatry resident, describing every symptom of mania as if reading from a textbook! He felt quite rattled.
Suddenly he heard her thoughts. I never saw Jonathan or Adam acting so over-the-top manic, or change moods so abruptly for that matter. What the hell is this boy up to?
His cold, dead heart seized up with fear. He was doing a horrible job of portraying mania! Why did he have to choose a disorder she knew so intimately, not only professionally, but also personally? He should have stayed more with what he knew, like unipolar Depression. Or maybe he should have gone with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder resulting from a near-death experience (such as almost dying from influenza). Even Bulimia Nervosa or Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder would have been better than this!
Noticing that he had been sitting statue-still for several minutes, he picked up a throw pillow and gently plumped it, careful not to tear it apart given the tension rippling up his arms. Unfortunately that action freed Bella's scent from the pillow's fibers, creating a disconcerting slow burn in his throat.
Still appearing suspicious, Nina ventured "Let me guess, Anthony — you're a psychology major?"
He managed a lopsided smile in spite of his consternation. "You're good, Dr. Carlton. Very intuitive. Psychology is quite intriguing to me, as you can see . . . it's a good thing the community college has Psych as a major or I'd have no idea what to major in."
Her smile vanished and her eyes narrowed. "I thought you said you went to U Dub."
"I . . . I do go to U Dub. I, I was looking to attend the community college if I didn't get in to U Dub, and I got confused for a second there."
The disbelieving look continued to shadow her face. "What was your GPA in high school?"
"4.0" he blurted out. He had never received less than an "A" grade in any high school or college class, no matter where it had been in the country.
"Then why wouldn't you have been admitted to the university?"
"I, I wanted a back-up just in case."
Her eyes flared with disbelief. "You were going to attend Forks Community College?"
"Yes."
"From Chicago? Why would you come all the way out here to attend community college?"
His mind frenetically searched for a plausible answer.
Nina's cheeks flushed beautifully and he could tell that she was trembling as she rose from her chair. "I don't know what this is about, Anthony, but I want you to leave."
"What?" Edward looked dumbfounded, staring up at her with unblinking ochre eyes. Realizing that a lady was standing in his presence, he popped up off the chair with blinding speed.
Nina drew a sharp intake of air, and took a step back, bringing the curve of her bottom in touch with the edge of her desk. He watched her anger slip into fear, the mask of her suspicion replaced by an awareness of impending danger. Her heart began thumping furiously. It was the same reaction that his early victims had shown upon realizing that he was about to drain them of their blood. He shuddered with self-revulsion.
"Please, ma'am, I just need some help."
Her breaths were coming in quick rasps and she felt as if she were pinned down the hood of a car once again. "I, I d-d-don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, but you obviously have not spoken one word of truth since you walked into my office." She swallowed, seeming to rein in her trembling, and her voice became stronger. "Did someone put you up to this?
Jonathan, you would never do something like that, would you? I know you're angry with me, but I thought you might still hold just a little love in your heart for me?
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Edward insisted.
She pursed her lips, and he heard her try to swallow but her throat was too dry. "And yes, you do need help, but you're not getting it from me. Please leave, Mr. Masen."
"But I haven't paid you for the session."
"I don't care. I want you to leave."
Sensing her fright — fear that he had caused — Edward winced. "I'm sorry, Dr. Carlton. I didn't mean to upset you."
"Leave now or I'm calling the police!" I know the Chief, he heard her think. He's saved me once before.
Edward felt frantic. He could hardly have Charlie poking into things, possibly discovering that he was back in Forks. Darting his eyes around the office, he scrambled to think of a way to placate the threatened woman, but he knew that it was too late. All was lost. He would not be able to keep Bella safe this way. She was going to keep placing herself in danger, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
Sneaking a glance at the chart on her desk, Edward slowly raised his eyes to meet Nina's glare. His voice warbled with earnestness. "I am deeply sorry for the trouble I have caused you."
She gazed into his wounded eyes for several suspended seconds before he turned and swiftly strode out of the office, soundlessly disappearing. Staring after him, Nina concluded that his parting statement was the most honest thing she had heard from him all day.
Edward didn't care if anyone saw him flee to the tree-line with supernatural speed. Once hidden in the cover of the forest, he knelt down, ducking his head and running his hands through his wild hair, interlacing his fingers on the back of his neck as he stared down at the hard ground, crumpled in a ball of wretchedness.
Jasper was by his side in seconds. "What happened? What's wrong?"
"I'm a monster," he whispered.
He was alone and depressed. Unipolar.
Author's Note
Well that was a spectacularly disastrous therapy session! ;-)
I wanted to alert you that I have started posting a new story called Swimming Against the Tide. It is AU Human, featuring Edward and Bella as high school swimmers who get embroiled in a military murder mystery. The story is fairly different from this one, and it is complete so I will be updating regularly.
Don't forget to vote for the Indie Twific Awards! The awards were designed to recognized up-and-coming or under-reviewed stories. If you think Mimiteh is one of those then please vote. And, I wouldn't hate it if you decided to leave a review for this chapter, in order to rectify the situation of under-recognition hee hee.