Gone (Ianthony)

Three Months, One Day, and Fourteen Hours Before

Ian:     

"Is there any particular reason why you're suddenly feeling so much better?"

Dr. Hammond had replaced the fake chrysanthemums on his desk with fake daisies.

"No. I don't think so. I just feel great."

I shifted my eyes to him. He was wearing a green shirt today. It reminded me of peas. I hated peas.

"You just woke up one day and felt better?"

I smiled. It was kinda easy. It wasn't forced, for the first time in five months. 

"Yeah. Exactly." I paused. "It's happened before."

"How often does it happen?"

"I don't know. Once a month or so. But I haven't felt this great in a long time."

Dr. Hammond smiled. His was fake. I could tell because his eyes didn't move. They just stared at me emotionlessly through thick bifocals.

"Are you continuing to take your medication, anyways?" 

"Yeah," I lied. 

My first Rise, I stopped taking my medicine, and I told my therapist (Dr. Green at that time - a young skinny guy with a retainer that gave him a serious lisp) and he freaked out and told me I had to keep taking it because once I started to feel bad again, it would be even worse than before. He even called Anthony and told him to make sure I took every pill I was supposed to, which just made him even more worried. So, basically, I'm always taking medicine now, even during Rises. And when I'm a day out from never needing it again and leaving it to sit on Anthony's countertop forever.

"Good, good. Have you been sleeping better?"

"Yeah," I lied again.

I actually hadn't sleep a wink since I'd started faking the Rise of all Rises. I'd been up all night planning. Making sure everything would really be ready.

"Great. What else have you been doing?"

I smiled. "I spent the whole day with Anthony yesterday. We saw the new Superman and got dinner. It was nice."

"It's nice to see you smile, Ian."

I thought about what Anthony had said about the flowers. I laughed. A mid-forties therapist and his mid-twenties depressed patient - that'd make a hell of a porn.

"Do I really have to be here right now?" I shrugged. "I really feel good."

He chuckled. His glasses bounced on the bridge of his nose.

"You're paying me, remember?"

"I know."

Why would it matter? Soon, really soon, nothing would matter.

Dr. Hammond shrugged. He didn't even have his clipboard today.

"I guess, if you really don't think it's necessary..."

"I'll be fine. I wanna go out and enjoy the day."

He smiled and stood up. I did too. He shook my hand, which I still didn't understand.

I realized it would be the last time I ever shook his hand. It would be the last time I ever saw him.

"Hey, I just wanted to say thanks, I guess," I stated, still gripping his hand. 

He raised his eyebrows slightly, but then nodded.

"I mean it," I continued. "You've helped me through a lot, and... thanks."

"Of course, Ian."

I released his hand. It was bittersweet. Dr. Hammond wasn't my favorite therapist, but he wasn't my least favorite, either. He did deserve some thanks while I was still here.

Leaving his office, I realized it was the last time I would ever leave his office. And driving home, I realized it was the last time I would ever drive home that way.

It was the last time for a lot of things.