Chapter 9: Caution: Joy May Kill

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I stared glumly at the minute hand on the clock desperately waiting for it to move. I swear to God that it hasn’t moved in over five minutes. You know what? I bet Markman took the fucking batteries out to ensure the hands on the clock don’t move at all. I bet I am doomed to sit here with these morons in this group session forever.

A frustrated sigh escaped my lips and attracted a disapproving look from Markman. I resisted the urge to glower at her. Today was not the day for me to irritate her or to be in her bad books. You see, today was the day I actually needed something from this conniving woman. It was something very important and something only she could help me get. It would not help me in the slightest to annoy her before I got a chance to discuss it with her. Well actually, considering I’m still refraining from speaking, it won’t be much of a discussion.

I spent an hour last night writing down what I wanted on a page of my sketch book to hand to her. I tried to be as polite and as thorough as possible in my request. I even drew a picture of what I wanted so there would be no chance of her getting it wrong. It didn’t mean that I wasn’t worried that she would throw the paper back in my face. I think I’ve more than earnt such a reaction. I know I’m no angel. I know how much I exasperate Markman. That’s why I’m going to go out my way to be nice and helpful to her today. I can be quite charming when I put in an effort.

The rest of the group therapy session dragged by so slow I’m sure time was going backwards. After a while I found myself avoiding looking at the clock purely because of the annoyance it was causing me. However, I stuck to my intention of not pissing off Markman and didn’t sigh or make any noises to express my boredom for the rest of the session. I even pretended to listen intently to Ray as he informed us all that, “Change is coming!” I lingered on this message for a while, wondering if he was referring to my forthcoming change in character towards Markman. I didn’t linger on this for too long because I quickly came to my senses about Ray’s sanity. Or rather, his lack of sanity.

Frank sat next to me today. His denim-clad leg was exactly twelve and a half centimetres from my leg, which was also clad in cheap denim. He was idly picking at a hole in his jeans which confirmed my suspicions that he was bored also. I knew exactly how he felt. It felt good for me though. For so long I’ve been stuck in this hell-hole continuously surrounded by crazy people. It felt good to finally have someone who wasn’t crazy that I could relate to. Frank wasn’t crazy, he was just…sad. I’m pretty sure you can cure sadness though. Well, actually, if you can’t cure sadness then I would simply find another way to make him better. I was determined to fix him. I didn’t care what Jasper said. Jasper was wrong.

Okay, yes, so what if I don’t actually know how I’m going to fix him? I bet a plumber doesn’t know how he’s going to fix a leaking sink until he’s seen the whole picture and examined all the possible variables. I was just biding my time and waiting until Frank revealed the full picture of himself to me. And by full picture I’m referring to his thoughts and feelings, not his body. Gosh, that was awkward. I can’t believe I’d forgotten about the whole shower incident.

Anyway, my point is that even though I didn’t know how I was going to fix him, I was still confident in my ability to do it.

In this morning’s group therapy session I wasn’t surprised that Frank elected to speak. I know he often didn’t feel comfortable speaking to the whole group but for some reason, at every session, he said something. Even if it was just a sentence on how he was feeling, he always found something to say. I suspected that he wanted Markman to report back to his parents that he was cooperating and trying to get better so they would think about letting him come home. I didn’t want Frank to go home. But I wouldn’t try to stop him if he did.

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