Singularium

Chapter Eleven - Roland

At thirteen, Roland was taken to the Youth Mental Wellness Center offices at the WDRH. He sat in an empty waiting room while his father was taken in to talk to Dr. Jones. Later his father would ask Roland if he thought the doctor's name was funny. Roland would say no and never get the reference to a series of movies about swashbuckling archaeology.

His father returned after a length of time, it was Roland's turn. Dr. Jones asked him about his childhood, his friends, school, what games he liked playing. Dr. Jones didn't ask Roland about witnessing his mother's death a year prior, instead he asked how he'd lived since.

A quick scan was administered.

A thirty minute written test was taken, "Finish what you can, there's no wrong answers."

Roland and his father sat together in Dr. Jones' office. The psychologist explained a diagnosis of acute agoraphobia. He'd refer a psychiatrist who'd prescribe medication and Roland would continue to visit Dr. Jones. With some work it was possible for Roland to return to school. It was stressed that the written test showed a strong addictive personality in Roland and he should stay away from drugs and alcohol when he got older.

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The visits to Dr. Jones became phone appointments. The calls avoided, then canceled. Medications were refused. Roland rarely left his bedroom.

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At sixteen Roland watched his idol, Smythku, captain of the Toronto DOS Prompts, give an interview where he stated he gamed better drunk. Roland knew where his father kept a bottle of CC in reserve for big soccer match viewings.

Roland, being susceptible to high highs and low lows, felt euphoric gaming all night. When the alcohol wore off he didn't get out of bed the next day.

He confessed his theft to his father and apologized profusely. Roland's was lectured on the dangers of drinking in excess, how his father's seen booze ruin loved one's lives. He was asked if he remembered Dr. Jones' advice.

"When you're old enough you can make your own mistakes, for now it's my responsibility to keep you breathing. No net for a month."

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The first year of Roland's twenties saw the struggle of an agoraphobe discovering the anxiety free state brought upon by the abuse of alcohol. Social situation previously physically debilitating became new sources of joy. Friends were made. Saving depleted. Prized possessions were sold to keep things going. Money was borrowed and never payed back. Friends were lost. Rock bottom was hit. Sobriety and a return to an isolated life was reverted to.

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For the sake of the plan, Roland broke his sobriety and now stood in his neighbour's apartment, listing deficiencies in Apple's aug specs to a woman who was paying more attention to the music visualizer painted across a wall.

The woman interrupted Roland's rant and asked, "Have you ever mistaken your bong for a glass of water?"

"Nope."

"Me neither," She paused with a thousand yard stare, "but the fear's there."

It was a pot crowd. An older pot crowd.

To Roland, marijuana amplified anxiety but he liked how it made other people act. You could mark the people newer to the drug by their mind expanding epiphanies, the veterans usually by their reliance on the drug to enjoy entertainment. Either way they couldn't give a shit about Roland, and that was just fine with him.

He even liked the smell of the non-deodorized stuff party attendees were forced to imbibe on the balcony with the cigarette smokers.

"My crew's all about the herb, brother." Will, Roland's neighbour, had replied when asked about a Glisten source. "I never touch the stuff."