NORMAL

01

The beer bottle wedged between Mara's hip and the armrest of her seat makes this group therapy session pretty counterproductive, but Dr. Phillips hasn't noticed it yet. She won't at all, if Mara is sneaky enough, which won't be an issue. Mara has done it before.

The digital clock on Dr. Phillips's desk reads nine o'clock sharp, but only three of the four clients are here, so they're going to have to wait. Mara glances over at the two women in the other chairs beside hers and figures they're probably both around her age; they look normal enough, she supposes, although she's sure she does too. She wonders what's wrong with them.

The woman furthest from her is small and pale, sipping every once in a while from the energy drink in her hand. She's got dark, ugly bags under her eyes like she hasn't slept in ages – stress, Mara guesses, or something like that. Maybe she has a life-threatening addiction to energy drinks. That would certainly be more interesting.

Sitting between them is a tall woman with a taut expression and biceps so large they visibly stretch the sleeves of her shirt. Her long hair is tied up in a bun that wavers between purposefully messy and simply careless, although Mara can't tell which she was aiming for. By the way she's rapidly bouncing one leg, Mara figures what's wrong with her probably has something to do with anxiety.

There's a knock at the door. While Dr. Phillips gets up to answer it, Mara reaches for her beer bottle and takes one, two gulps. The bottle is out of sight again by the time the psychiatrist turns back around, ushering a small Asian woman into the last chair. Mara's interest spikes.

"Welcome to group therapy," Dr. Phillips says. "We're all on the same side here, so just relax. You're going to be normal in no time."

The woman with the big arms raises both middle fingers and says, "Fuck being normal."

Mara smirks. Dr. Phillips chooses to ignore the comment.

"Let's start with introducing ourselves," she says instead, the wide smile never leaving her face. She looks over at Mara, who's sitting at the end of the row furthest from the door. "Mara? Would you like to start?"

Mara feigns sudden interest in her nails and says, "Not really."

Her nails are disgusting, she notices. She should do something about that.

Dr. Phillips continues to smile at her. "I appreciate your honesty," she says; Mara wants to strangle her. "Could you start for us anyway?"

"Fine. Whatever." Mara heaves an exaggerated sigh and says, "I'm Mara. I probably fucked your husband when I was in high school. He probably liked it, too."

"And why are you here, Mara?" Dr. Phillips prompts. Mara is amused to note that her tone has adopted a sense of exasperation.

"I'm an alcoholic," she says. "Society says that's fucked up, so here I am. Fixing it."

The woman with the energy drink snorts and takes another sip. Dr. Phillips, whose smile is starting to become quite strained now, looks much less amused.

"Moving on then," the psychologist says, continuing down the line. She seems to forget the next woman's name, so she looks down at the paper on her desk; Mara uses that time to sneak another drink. "How about you, Mildred?"

The big-armed woman blinks at her before nodding slightly. She's stopped bouncing her leg. "Uh. I'm Mildred."

"Cute," Mara says. "Any nicknames for that? Millie? Mildew?"

Mildred makes a noise that vaguely resembles a growl. "No," is all she says, although somehow she still manages to sound menacing. "And I'm here because I killed my husband trying to stop him from killing me. So."

Scary, Mara thinks. Dr. Phillips's smile widens again. "Thank you, Mildred. How about you, Werdna?"

Mara holds back a snort.

"I'm Werdna," says the woman with the energy drink, "but most people call me Andy, since 'Werdna' is 'Andrew' backward and my parents wanted to name me after my uncle – "

"My husband's name was Andrew," Mildred says.

Mara is starting to doubt Mildred's story; she probably killed her husband on purpose. She's certainly large enough to.

"Oh," Werdna says. "Uh, sorry?"

Mildred grunts.

"Why are you here, Werdna?" Dr. Phillips says.

Werdna keeps glancing over at Mildred, although she looks more curious than scared. "I'm a somniphobic," she says. "I can't sleep, so I've been running on coffee and energy drinks for probably three weeks now."

"Are you addicted to energy drinks?" Mara asks.

Werdna looks surprised at the question, and her eyes flicker to the drink in her hand. "I don't think so," she says, although it sounds more like a question than an answer. "I mean, I need them to survive, but I don't crave them or anything."

"Oh," Mara says. She pretends she isn't disappointed.

"Thank you, Werdna," Dr. Phillips says. "We're almost done, ladies. This is Akari."

Mara looks at the last woman. She's got unruly black hair in two long braids down her back and is wearing an oversized t-shirt with the MIT logo plastered on it. She must be some kind of genius, Mara thinks, but that's no reason for her to be in therapy. There's nothing visibly wrong with her, either, other than that she looks messy. Maybe she still lives with her parents or something.

"She suffered a serious head injury when she was in college," Dr. Phillips says. "As a result, she mostly speaks in fragments now and is unable to retain much information, although she has an exceptional memory of everything before the accident."

"Anterograde amnesia," Akari mutters suddenly, staring at her feet. They all jump at the sound of her voice. "First studied in Henry Molaison, often due to damage to the hippocampus, causes inability to form new memories, old memories unharmed – "

"Does she always talk like that?" Mildred asks flatly. Akari quiets.

Dr. Phillips frowns. "For the most part, yes. She stays at the psychiatric hospital and will remain there for the foreseeable future."

Mildred grunts again. Werdna has finished her energy drink and looks to be mourning the loss of it.

"Right," Dr. Phillips says. "Now, the purpose of group therapy is so that we can all work out our problems together, so expect to be seeing a lot of each other in the next few months." She smiles again. "Isn't that exciting?"

Akari is starting to fidget in her seat, and Werdna is inching away from a murderous-looking Mildred. Mara sighs.

It's going to be a long few months.