"Dr. Furter?"
Tap, Tap.
"Doctor?"
Tap, tap, more insistent.
"Dr. Furter.. I brought aspirin."
"Come in.", came a weary voice. The door creaked open as the secretary stepped in. Frank forced a smile as she passed him a glass of water and two small white pills. "Thank you, Miss Pawns."
She smiled, her red hair matching her cheeks, "Call me Jade.."
Frank made a snorting noise that he cleverly masked as a cough. "Sure.. Jade."
"I'm beginning to believe that I have a sign on my back that says 'flirt with this unwilling trannie'.." Frank rubbed his temple as he walked, tired, to his car. He had a small, sleek, black Porsche. It glistened in the midday sun as he opened the driver's seat door.
The leather interior was hot, and he hissed in surprise. As he began to rev the ignition, his mind stumbled over quite a few things. He knew that the headaches weren't happening because he was under the weather. They were happening because it had been ten years.
The road was a blur, and it was a wonder that Frank passed no cars on his way home. He kept going faster and faster, trying to outrun the thought that he was frantically forcing from his head. Still, despite his efforts, he saw a sign as he turned off of the highway:
Pit Stop- Exit 43
Gas-Restrooms-Hot Dogs
As he raced down his exit, the words formed inevitably in his head: It has been ten years since I was brought down on my knees in torn fishnets and smeared make-up.. Ten years.. in exactly four days.
Frank sighed heavily and pushed the brake pedal. He slowed dramatically, and he wished that would be a good enough achievement. It wasn't, because he couldn't stop thinking about being.. the old Dr. Furter.
He pulled into his driveway fifteen minutes later, recalling helplessly how he had escaped after Riff Raff had assumed him dead. He remembered that he was suddenly awake in the cold pool, next to his.. his.. lover, Rocky.
He opened his front door, thinking about how he had held his breath as long as he could, then lifted his head enough to gasp new air for a brief second as Riff 'consoled' Dr. Scott about Eddie. He had breathed again when Magenta and Riff were reminiscing about Transylvania.
Frank stopped his train of thought and floated through his living room. He shook his head as he sat in his blue armchair, "You were an insane man, Frank, dear.." He smiled and chuckled, "What were you thinking, singing in a pool?"
Despite his desperate attempts to lighten his own mood, he felt a tremendous weight growing upon him. This had been happening every year when the anniversary came around, and he wished he could be used to it by now.
After a moment of reflection, Frank decided that the best thing would be to make good use of time, so he would have less time for flashbacks. He trotted back to his car to retrieve his briefcase from the passenger seat. Just what he didn't need just then was waiting, pulling into his driveway.
A red headed young woman stepped from her silver pick-up truck. She snapped away her sunglasses as she ran to Frank, calling in a high, excited pitch, "Hey, Frankie!"
Though he really wanted to forget his old life, he couldn't help smiling as he hugged her, "Columbia! How are you?"
Her purple lipstick shined as she smiled wide, "Just fine, and yerself?"
He forced a shrug, "It's that time again.."
She frowned, her brow furrowed, "You can't still be feeling bad?"
He nodded, "Yes.. I suppose it's my ego. I feel so stupid."
She slapped his shoulder playfully, "You better believe it's your ego! Nobody but you would feel embarrassed about something they did years ago and had gotten over by their own decision."
"I suppose.. I just don't know.. Do you ever feel.. like I do?"
She gazed at her pick-up. It was actually the one Frank had used to pick her up when he had been staying in the castle. She seemed not to see the truck, though. Her eyes were unfocused.
"Columbia?"
She turned to face him again, "Yes, I guess I do, sometimes. I think about how much I hoped you would live as I lay there, feigning defeat.. I hoped you had enough human in you.."
He raised an eyebrow, "Is that how we lived?"
"Yep."
He was confused. "But I'm all alien."
She nodded, "Yes.. but we.. I gave you humanity.. when we.. would be together."
There was a long silence as they both eyed the gravel driveway, which had suddenly become very interesting to both of them. Finally, Frank put his hands in his pockets and grimaced, "I'm sorry that I.. I never cared about you.. your feelings."
She shrugged, "It's ok.. I mean.. it isn't ok for the scientific Prince Frank N Furter. but I forgive the Doctor Furter, Psychologist.."
He smiled, "You're something else, Col." He jerked his head toward the door. "Say, why don't you come in? I'll make dinner for us both."
She clapped, "Great!"
"I just have to get my briefcase." He hurriedly snatched it from the car and opened the front door to let Columbia inside. Once he had shut the door, he set the suitcase on the floor and opened it. There was Feral's file and other information, along with an identification photo clipped to the first page.
Columbia picked the photo up, "Your patient?"
He nodded, "Sure is. Feral Hane, seventeen years old, and a very nice, polite young lady."
Columbia nodded thoughtfully. "She's pretty. I've never seen a girl that has black hair and blue eyes.. Does she wear contacts?"
He flipped through her file, glanced a page, and replied, "Apparently not."
"Interesting. So why do you have her paperwork?"
"Well, I was hoping to find something of a clue to her personality in here." He tapped the pile of papers with a marking pen.
Columbia made a sour face, "You are some psychologist, thinking that formal crap will tell you anything about her."
He smiled, "I don't think it will. What I want to focus on... is this." He pulled a few pages from the file. "You see, this is an essay she was asked to write about herself in general. Basically, it could be about anything from her favorite band to why she prefers sleeping in the day.."
They both chuckled. Columbia picked up the essay and began to recite from the page. "My name is Feral. My mother named me that. I just don't know if that is me. I don't know if Feral means much to people when they see the stupid 'Hi my name is Feral' nametag that I have to wear in the hospital. That doesn't tell them who I am. It tells them what to call me when I need to be examined, how to let people know they're talking about me and my 'mental instability'. I don't think I want a name anymore, because if they are going to talk to me, I don't want to answer. If they are going to talk about me, I don't want to have to know."
Col looked up, looking sad, "My God.. What's happened to her in life?"
Frank shrugged, "That's what they're paying me to discover."
"Don't you know?"
"I know that her father was shot when she was ten, and that her mother forces her into social skill-building courses and so on.. I know that she doesn't have many friends and that she has an unexplainable intimidation of men."
Columbia leaned back against the wall, "So what's left to discover?"
Frank took the essay from her hands as he said, "They can't tell me how she feels about all of that. None of what I mentioned is what is 'wrong' with her. What's 'wrong' with her is her reaction. To quote from one of my course texts, "one characteristic of a healthy human is the ability to handle disappointment".. Unfortunately, that makes most of us pretty unhealthy.."
Tap, Tap.
"Doctor?"
Tap, tap, more insistent.
"Dr. Furter.. I brought aspirin."
"Come in.", came a weary voice. The door creaked open as the secretary stepped in. Frank forced a smile as she passed him a glass of water and two small white pills. "Thank you, Miss Pawns."
She smiled, her red hair matching her cheeks, "Call me Jade.."
Frank made a snorting noise that he cleverly masked as a cough. "Sure.. Jade."
"I'm beginning to believe that I have a sign on my back that says 'flirt with this unwilling trannie'.." Frank rubbed his temple as he walked, tired, to his car. He had a small, sleek, black Porsche. It glistened in the midday sun as he opened the driver's seat door.
The leather interior was hot, and he hissed in surprise. As he began to rev the ignition, his mind stumbled over quite a few things. He knew that the headaches weren't happening because he was under the weather. They were happening because it had been ten years.
The road was a blur, and it was a wonder that Frank passed no cars on his way home. He kept going faster and faster, trying to outrun the thought that he was frantically forcing from his head. Still, despite his efforts, he saw a sign as he turned off of the highway:
Pit Stop- Exit 43
Gas-Restrooms-Hot Dogs
As he raced down his exit, the words formed inevitably in his head: It has been ten years since I was brought down on my knees in torn fishnets and smeared make-up.. Ten years.. in exactly four days.
Frank sighed heavily and pushed the brake pedal. He slowed dramatically, and he wished that would be a good enough achievement. It wasn't, because he couldn't stop thinking about being.. the old Dr. Furter.
He pulled into his driveway fifteen minutes later, recalling helplessly how he had escaped after Riff Raff had assumed him dead. He remembered that he was suddenly awake in the cold pool, next to his.. his.. lover, Rocky.
He opened his front door, thinking about how he had held his breath as long as he could, then lifted his head enough to gasp new air for a brief second as Riff 'consoled' Dr. Scott about Eddie. He had breathed again when Magenta and Riff were reminiscing about Transylvania.
Frank stopped his train of thought and floated through his living room. He shook his head as he sat in his blue armchair, "You were an insane man, Frank, dear.." He smiled and chuckled, "What were you thinking, singing in a pool?"
Despite his desperate attempts to lighten his own mood, he felt a tremendous weight growing upon him. This had been happening every year when the anniversary came around, and he wished he could be used to it by now.
After a moment of reflection, Frank decided that the best thing would be to make good use of time, so he would have less time for flashbacks. He trotted back to his car to retrieve his briefcase from the passenger seat. Just what he didn't need just then was waiting, pulling into his driveway.
A red headed young woman stepped from her silver pick-up truck. She snapped away her sunglasses as she ran to Frank, calling in a high, excited pitch, "Hey, Frankie!"
Though he really wanted to forget his old life, he couldn't help smiling as he hugged her, "Columbia! How are you?"
Her purple lipstick shined as she smiled wide, "Just fine, and yerself?"
He forced a shrug, "It's that time again.."
She frowned, her brow furrowed, "You can't still be feeling bad?"
He nodded, "Yes.. I suppose it's my ego. I feel so stupid."
She slapped his shoulder playfully, "You better believe it's your ego! Nobody but you would feel embarrassed about something they did years ago and had gotten over by their own decision."
"I suppose.. I just don't know.. Do you ever feel.. like I do?"
She gazed at her pick-up. It was actually the one Frank had used to pick her up when he had been staying in the castle. She seemed not to see the truck, though. Her eyes were unfocused.
"Columbia?"
She turned to face him again, "Yes, I guess I do, sometimes. I think about how much I hoped you would live as I lay there, feigning defeat.. I hoped you had enough human in you.."
He raised an eyebrow, "Is that how we lived?"
"Yep."
He was confused. "But I'm all alien."
She nodded, "Yes.. but we.. I gave you humanity.. when we.. would be together."
There was a long silence as they both eyed the gravel driveway, which had suddenly become very interesting to both of them. Finally, Frank put his hands in his pockets and grimaced, "I'm sorry that I.. I never cared about you.. your feelings."
She shrugged, "It's ok.. I mean.. it isn't ok for the scientific Prince Frank N Furter. but I forgive the Doctor Furter, Psychologist.."
He smiled, "You're something else, Col." He jerked his head toward the door. "Say, why don't you come in? I'll make dinner for us both."
She clapped, "Great!"
"I just have to get my briefcase." He hurriedly snatched it from the car and opened the front door to let Columbia inside. Once he had shut the door, he set the suitcase on the floor and opened it. There was Feral's file and other information, along with an identification photo clipped to the first page.
Columbia picked the photo up, "Your patient?"
He nodded, "Sure is. Feral Hane, seventeen years old, and a very nice, polite young lady."
Columbia nodded thoughtfully. "She's pretty. I've never seen a girl that has black hair and blue eyes.. Does she wear contacts?"
He flipped through her file, glanced a page, and replied, "Apparently not."
"Interesting. So why do you have her paperwork?"
"Well, I was hoping to find something of a clue to her personality in here." He tapped the pile of papers with a marking pen.
Columbia made a sour face, "You are some psychologist, thinking that formal crap will tell you anything about her."
He smiled, "I don't think it will. What I want to focus on... is this." He pulled a few pages from the file. "You see, this is an essay she was asked to write about herself in general. Basically, it could be about anything from her favorite band to why she prefers sleeping in the day.."
They both chuckled. Columbia picked up the essay and began to recite from the page. "My name is Feral. My mother named me that. I just don't know if that is me. I don't know if Feral means much to people when they see the stupid 'Hi my name is Feral' nametag that I have to wear in the hospital. That doesn't tell them who I am. It tells them what to call me when I need to be examined, how to let people know they're talking about me and my 'mental instability'. I don't think I want a name anymore, because if they are going to talk to me, I don't want to answer. If they are going to talk about me, I don't want to have to know."
Col looked up, looking sad, "My God.. What's happened to her in life?"
Frank shrugged, "That's what they're paying me to discover."
"Don't you know?"
"I know that her father was shot when she was ten, and that her mother forces her into social skill-building courses and so on.. I know that she doesn't have many friends and that she has an unexplainable intimidation of men."
Columbia leaned back against the wall, "So what's left to discover?"
Frank took the essay from her hands as he said, "They can't tell me how she feels about all of that. None of what I mentioned is what is 'wrong' with her. What's 'wrong' with her is her reaction. To quote from one of my course texts, "one characteristic of a healthy human is the ability to handle disappointment".. Unfortunately, that makes most of us pretty unhealthy.."