Chapter 9: October 7, 1991

Los Angeles, CA

I tapped my foot on the ground with my boot. He was late and I started having doubts about this. I probably would have bailed out if it wasn't for the court order. I was ready to walk out, screw the court. It wouldn't be my fault if he never came, right? Besides it was just one session and I gone to all the others in the past, so what would missing one matter?

Just when I thought I was in the clear, he hurried in and went down the hall. He came to our room and put his stuff down.

"I'm so sorry Jesse; please forgive me for being so late."

He looked almost as bad as I did. His dark hair hanged in his face, it was damp. It was obvious he overslept that Monday morning.

"It's okay if you want to cancel. I understand," I sat up a little. "No offense Dr. Falcon, but you look like hell."

He chuckled, which wasn't a shock because he often laughed at my little remarks.

"No, we are here. Let's make the most of it." He took out a notepad and pen before sitting down. "tell me about your weekend."

I pondered a little on his statement. "I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you about mine, if you share a little of yours."

He put the pen to his lips in thought, "okay, I think I owe it to you since I kept you waiting."

I smiled then looked down to reflect on my weekend. "Friday night I went clubbing with some friends. You know...the gang. It was ladies night and Brandon was meeting some guy there for his pick-up. Then we decided to drive down to the beach, you know? But we got yelled at by security, I guess you're not allowed at the beach that late at night…or morning. We went back to Brandon's place and I spent the night there. Saturday we chilled until the Red Hot Chili Peppers show. It was an awesome show. We had a really great spot. I only wished Nirvana was opening, but I hear they're gonna be in town in like two weeks. Can't wait…" I blushed a little, "Kurt Cobain is something else."

I looked up a little to see his reaction. His small thin lips curved into a smile.

"After that…it's fuzzy. I don't remember going home from the show. He took me to my place…we practically slept through Sunday."

I paused when he cleared his throat. His brown eyes with green specks looked into me.

"Did you use? We've talked about Brandon being a bad influence. I think we should discuss this further."

This was the part that always made me feel stupid. I sometimes thought he loved talking down to me. It was kind of strange given the fact he was only nine years older than me. Perhaps that's what brought me in. Dr. Falcon had his charms about him. I grew curious about his private life. After today's incident I was very curious.

"Yeah…I think I drank too much at the show. He might have given me something—I'm not sure. We did some coke at my house, but just a little…like two or three times."

He was writing down feverously, "Now, this is why you're here. The court appointed you to drug therapy in place of rehab. It was that or do time, Jesse. I have to turn these reports in…what do you think the judge is going to say if you're still using?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "I don't know. That I don't deserve to live? But I thought this wasn't about the drugs. It's about me being messed up."

"Do you think you're messed up?" He followed up and I knew that was coming.

"Sometimes. I love Brandon, but I know he hurts me with his words most of the time. He just gets so irritable and takes it out of me. I think I irritate him. Then I just—it's hard to describe. I feel different. I get angry sometimes too and I go off on my friends. Then I feel guilty and lonely when they don't wanna be around me. I'm afraid one day they won't come back."

He nodded and put up a hand seeing that I was getting upset.

There was something else I wanted to add, "I keep feeling like…no matter how hard I try I keep losing that one person in my life that makes me feel whole. Brandon fills the void but he isn't the one. It makes me depressed sometimes."

"So in your depression you're seeking relief? Maybe hoping it can complete you?"

I nodded, "Probably. You're the doc, right?"

I yawned and stretched out a little on the couch.

"We need to make a new goal, it's that time again. I would like you to create it this time, instead of me. Only you know what you're truly capable of. Take some time to think about it….there's no rush."

I closed my eyes and thought about some goals we had talked about. Goals were tiny steps and I had been good so far in following the ones he set for me. I got a job and a new apartment so far.

I knew what he wanted me to say. I just didn't know if I was ready for something that drastic. With my eyes closed I could feel him watching me and I could smell his aftershave. I wasn't going to forget our deal either, even if he thought I would.

Finally I decided on something, "Okay," I opened my eyes. "My new goal is to stop hurting myself."

He looked surprised, "That's a big goal. I think you might be ready for it. It won't be easy...especially with those triggers still surrounding you."

"Triggers?" I sat up.

"Brandon, the drugs, the alcohol, the casual sex, your anger—those are your triggers. They can lead you to that desperate moment not to kill yourself, but to feel something or get relief."

He was right and looked down at my hands, "Yeah. That might be reaching too high. I don't wanna set myself up for failure. I hate failure. I can't take it."

Dr. Falcon put a hand on my shoulder, "It's okay Jesse, I'm not going to let you fail. There are healthier ways to get relief, you know? Have you ever tried writing?"

I laughed, "you mean like a diary? I'm twenty-two years old…not fifteen."

"Hmm," he thought aloud. "What about music? I know you like music, so why not lie on your bed, close your eyes, and focus on the music?"

"That sounds like the most boring thing of all. How is that supposed to give me relief?" I raised a brow and hugged a pillow as I lied back down on the couch.

"Okay, let's hear some of your suggestions. Just remember, you're not replacing a bad habit with another."

I sighed in frustration and turned to face the couch, "I don't know. This is too much. Can we just forget this goal thing for now?"

"You know we can't," he said softly and almost lovingly.

I turned around and looked at him with tears in my eyes. I hated crying in front of him and it never failed! He had some mysterious ability to always bring me to tears.

"I'll write. No promises though that this is gonna work," my tone was flat.

His facial expression went from hopeful to disappointment in .5 seconds. It was like I had already failed him by saying that. What did he expect? He knew that I coped this way since I was thirteen. That's nine years. How do you drop a nine year habit in one day? Is that even possible?

I looked at the clock and realized our time was up a while ago, even taking account his lateness.

"So, you said you were going to tell me about your weekend?" I reminded him.

"Oh, right," he was flustered and leaned back in his chair. A hand went through is hair as he searched for the right words or where to begin. "My dad is in the hospital. He had a heart attack Saturday night. They say he's going to be fine, but it's still stressful. You could call it an awakening for me."

Now I felt guilty for the things I had said to him when he arrived. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I'm glad to hear he's okay though, but are you?"

That was an awkward moment luckily interrupted by his receptionist reminding him his next appointment had arrived.

I stood up and put the pillow down, "I guess I'll see you on Thursday, then?"

He nodded, "let me give you something first." He went to his desk and took out some paper to write on.

I rolled my eyes because I thought he was giving me another prescription. When he returned it only had numbers on it. A phone number. "what's this?"

"My home number. I want you to have it in case of an emergency. Only in an emergency, okay? This is a big step we're taking and I want to be available to you."

I gave him a hug after shoving the paper into my pocket. "Thanks Dr. Falcon."

Doctor Falcon

I had four other patients to see that day. One was a guy with sexual problems; he felt an attraction to other guys. My second patient was a woman with obsessive compulsive disorder; it was a need to check things or do things several times during a day. My last patient for the day was another woman who had lost custody of her children because of drug and alcohol abuse.

By the end of the day I was so exhausted. I got home and collapsed on the couch in my living room to get a nap in before I went to the hospital.

When I laid down I realized I wasn't able to get to sleep as soon I thought. I stared at the ceiling thinking about how depressing my job could be some days. Most people went to therapy thinking I had the answers they were seeking. I wasn't a psychic; I couldn't tell them the answers to all their questions. Therapy was just a way to talk about what was on their mind and I would give them my professional opinion.

I fell asleep then without even knowing it. What woke me up a few hours later was a phone call. I got to it in time and it turned out to be a wrong number.

I grabbed a shower and left the house again to go visit my dad. I had told Jesse that he was alright, but he wasn't.

My father and I never had a good relationship to begin with. My mom was an alcoholic and my dad worked for the city of Los Angeles repairing roads. Mom would drink all day and when my dad got home he was cranky and tired. Needless to say, they fought A LOT. My dad would even pull out a gun on her sometimes.

As he got older he mellowed out and he also changed a lot after my mom died from liver failure.

I got a job pretty young and saved everything to go to school and be where I'm at. I was still fresh out of school and this was my first office. The patients I had were mild compared to the ones I had while in school.

Jesse Carlile was my most difficult patients. She was a unique case and one I couldn't refuse. The judge asked me and I had made a deal with the judge to take on some cases to start up my business. I wasn't her first therapist. Her history revealed she had seen someone three years prior. When I got the files from him I realized he was the one who refused to treat her. Her last visit consisted of her threatening his life. I didn't let that scare me away.

I had never met this previous therapist, but Jesse didn't seem like that bad of a person. She was just misguided, made poor decisions, and had some emotional issues. If anything, she was very honest to me and always answered my questions. I could also see improvement in her courage and her self-esteem was building.

What terrified me a little was the closeness. I had never given out my phone number to a patient and never dreamed I would have. Something about her drew me in. I had a professor that warned us about what he called the 'knight in shining armor' effect. I don't think it was that I wanted to save her, but her attitude and the little things she did. I always looked forward to our appointments.