Pushed Times, Chewing Pepper (the first 13 pp)

Jean was apologetic.

“That’s why I almost didn’t put her call through.  I know how she upsets you, but she said it was important.” Jean pursed her lips in a look of guilt and irritation.

I loved to say shocking things to Jean. “No problem, one day I’ll kill her. Kidding.” 

She did her predictable gasp and then shook her head and smiled.

My cousin Stacy was a good Creole, unlike me. She perfected the art of marrying. Every good Creole woman had a husband. And the culture mainstay was that every woman should strive to get her M.R.S., and my Ph.D.just didn’t cut it with my family without a husband to add to my CV. The great man-grab was the oldest and most enduring family competition. One I never seemed to win.

            Jean’s voice faded into the background as a numbing throb rocked my head. The room swayed and all I could see was a flash of jagged colors. A knife-sharp pain pierced the point between my eyebrows as I was hit by one of the colorful flashes that preceded my visions. The sensations appeared without warning in visual language. In this one, I saw a dark room. I was dancing alone. Then I was in a bridal gown that had blood pouring down the front of it. I tried squinting to make the picture clearer, but it wasn’t connected to my eyesight. It vanished, as always. Aunt Cat said I was lucky to have inherited her gift of vision. But Aunt Cat knew how to use and interpret what she saw.I just became confused. I have spent many years trying to find an explanation for the images that pop into my mind with physical symptoms. For most of my life, they were infrequent, but the older I get I’ve noticed an increase in visions (removed comma) while I’m sleeping or awake. Could this bloody wedding gown be a testament to my horrendous track record with men? Who knows?

My attention returned to the room and my sore temples. I tuned in to the muffled words of Jean.

“Dr. Sarah. Did you hear what I said?”

 “Oh, sorry Jean, I was just looking out at that pretty blue sky.” I noticed the familiar figure on the street. Between the street vendors and pedestrians was one of my scariest patients, Mr. Corwin. Mr. Corwin progressed from overly interested patient to full-fledged stalker over the past six months. He’s creepy, but I took an oath to help the creepy and the undesirable. It’s my work. I want to help to connect Corwin to that better part of him. His spirit purpose. My friends want me to dump him.

“Oh my God, why is Corwin standing down there again looking up at this window? And wait ‘till you see today’s head wear, Jean. I have got to drop him as a patient one day. Does he have an appointment?” I asked.

“Yes, in about three minutes.” Jean answered while checking her watch.

“Is it my imagination or is he lurking around outside of our office more lately?” I asked.

“Yes, he is. This crush on you is becoming out of control. I think you need to send him to another therapist. I really believe that.”  Jean rolled her eyes up to their familiar spot on the ceiling as she backed out of my office, closing the door. She took her place at her desk, ready to greet lurking, stalking Corwin.

I hated to leave my view of the gentrified downtown Oakland. I enjoyed staring at the lines of the new buildings snuggling between remnants of older, rougher times. I heard Jean knock as she walked back into my office.

She announced Mr. Corwin. “Your three o’clock came up to the mountain top.”

I stretched out a sarcastic smile in Jean’s direction. 

“Oh, joy.”

“I’ll get him,” she said.

When the door re-opened, in walked the man who lived his life in that space between genius and bonkers. I could see Jean’s struggle to control a smile as he made his grand entrance. Corwin marched into the office, straight and tall as if he were leading a parade. The blazing red child’s bicycle helmet on his head made me think of those circus elephants. Corwin believed that wearing hats protected his brain from bad thoughts and strange voices. While he took several minutes to decide which chair to sit in, I nursed my insecurities that had re-emerged with Stacy’s call.