by KC Decker
“That’s a perfectly normal sexual response. So is your vagina getting wet.” After he answers, I swear I can see his nostrils flare a little. There seems to be a new energy in the room now, but I can’t tell if it’s reserved…or savage.
“Why, though? Why all of a sudden?”
“It probably has a lot to do with being off the antipsychotics. Decreased sex drive is a very common side effect of the medication.” I can actually see him breathing. His measured inhales, his chest inflating—his breaths seem stiff and calculated instead of natural and effortless.
“It wasn’t decreased, it was nonexistent. I was at a zero, now I’m at a thousand…I’d really feel more comfortable around, say…two hundred.”
“You’ve never felt any sexual feelings before at all?”
“Nope. Nada.”
“Maybe you should run with it. I understand it might be disconcerting at first, but you are almost 21, a healthy sex drive is amazing.”
“I don’t think it’s healthy.”
“Now, that’s a different story. What do you mean by that, specifically?”
“Specifically? Like what do I think about when I rub myself? Is that what you are asking?... I think about you quite a bit—”
“I mean, are your thoughts immoral or deprav—Wait, WHAT?”
“Sorry, I didn’t exactly mean to divulge that information. But, to answer your question, my thoughts are not immoral unless you consider picturing my psychiatrist naked in the shower to be immoral or depraved. Do you?” Sutton is very uncomfortable right now; he is shifting all over the place and stammering way too much.
“No, no, it’s not immoral or depraved on your end.” Now he is running his fingers through his hair and looking anywhere but at me. “It would be immoral of me to act on that because I’m your doctor. The thing is, Mercy, it’s actually common for a patient to develop feelings for their doctor. The problem is that a patient’s judgment is often clouded because they are getting help from that person, they are feeling better, and they associate those feelings as sexual or loving, it’s called transference. There is a word for it because it is so common.”
“I don’t know about all that because Wes makes my nipples hard too, and he is most certainly not my doctor. Is that transference? If another patient thinks your beautiful, and you wonder what it would feel like to kiss him and have his fingers between your legs? You know, see if he likes how wet you are?” I boldly refuse to look away from Sutton’s discomfort. Transference, my ass. If he had any idea where he falls in my dirty thoughts, I’m pretty sure he would forget he’s my doctor.
Ok, I admit, that was a lot to throw at Sutton, but I didn’t like the way he couldn’t look at me. Just because he consumes my thoughts, does not mean I will fall apart if he doesn’t return the sentiment. Although, it feels like sometimes he does return it.
Truth be told, I feel a little rejected by him right now. I don’t like this feeling, so I’m kind of scrambling to get away from it by lashing out.
“Mercy, please don’t.”
“Please don’t, what?”
“Please do not get involved with Wes.”
“Sutton, you will be done with me in a few months and can wash your hands of all my pesky transference. As far as other men? You don’t get to dictate that.”
“Mercy, please. That is a bad idea on many levels.”
“Are we done here?”
“Not even close.”
“Well, I’m done. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It’s rec time, so I beat a path straight to my friends. Apparently, I’m moving pretty fast too because, Matty announces that I’m, “Comin in hot!” I dive into a little ball on the couch next to Lyla.
“What’s going on, Mercy?” she asks.
“I don’t know, I’m all over the place. I think I just had a fight with Sutton. I’m pretty sure I told him I think about him naked when I touch myself, and I know I threw Wes in his face to see if I could make him jealous. I’m a fucking mess.” Then I sit up and wipe the hair out of my face, “And Wes told me I’m beautiful.”
“Umm, yeah, the whole group heard that little nugget. We should start there…right? Or do we need to start with Sutton’s nakedness?” Lyla asks with a cute little smirk.
“NO WAY! We will not start with either of those…Did you all miss the biggest announcement of all?” Matty exclaims, scandalized. All three sets of our eyes land on Matty’s because none of us know what he is talking about.
“Our little fledgling has learned to fly.” He looks excited and like he is perched on the edge of something. Still, we all just stare at him.
“Mercy is finally touching herself! Did y’all miss that? Jesus, if I had a vagina, I’d never take my hands off of it. Wait. Was that an overshare?”
“You guys, for real. I’m mostly off my meds, and I swear to God I want to hump everything on the unit.”
“Nobody says hump anymore, Mercy,” Veronica says with laughing eyes. “Hold on, because there are a number of things we will need to address if she is going to finally start liking guys.”
“Wait, like what?” I ask.
“I mean, has anyone ever had the sex talk with you? Have you thought about birth control?” Veronica asks as she shoves up her sleeves.
“I know about the mechanics of sex, and I’m a long way from needing birth control. Don’t get ahead of yourselves here.”
“I agree. We should ease into all that big stuff. How about we start with your eyebrows…and, I’m sure—” Matty’s eyes dart down to my crotch and bounce back to my eyes a few times before Lyla tips over into my lap, laughing.
“What?” I ask, now they are all laughing. “What did I miss?”
***
Matty has convinced a day nurse to allow him to tweeze my eyebrows—as long as we do it right here, by the nurse's station. So, that’s what he is doing—ripping hair out of my face. Everyone loves Matty, so he is rarely refused anything. Well, that’s not entirely true, he has to use an electric razor, flimsy rubber bands for his braids, and the staff has to stand there and watch him floss his teeth—lest he hang himself with it.
“Colleen? You know you’re my favorite, right?” Matty’s voice is a touch higher than normal, so I know he is angling for something from the nurse.
“Matty, I’m er’ones favorite when they want something from me. What can I do for you?”
“I was just thinking, my birthday is coming up, and Mercy here has had, what, a dozen birthdays here?”
“What are you getting at, Matty?”
“I want a day trip to the hair salon.”
“I can arrange for someone to come to the unit, Matty. You know that.”
“What if Sutt-I-mean-Doctor Sutton signs off on it?”
“Matty, this isn’t elementary school, we don’t go on field trips.”
“You’re right,” he says dejected, as he drops his head. “Why should we get to feel special on our birthday—we’re just a bunch of throwaway mental patients.”
“Matthew Edward Hopkins! Don’t you dare tell me you are a bunch of throwaways! There is not a darn thing wrong with any one of you! God made you special, the same way he made me chocolate, and we all get to use our uniqueness for His glory. Do you understand me? Don’t nobody get to mope around here, we pick ourselves up, and we try to make the world a better place every day….talkin bout bein a throwaway…don’t even get me started, Matty Hopkins!”
At first, I was stunned by the tirade, but then I realized she walked right into Matty’s trap. Colleen is always telling us we are perfect and made in God’s image, and she doesn’t let us get away with being down on ourselves. Matty is manipulating the situation, but day-uum, he’s good at it. He deserves an Oscar because his hangdog look is on point.
“Now, you two listen here. I will talk to Dr. Sutton, but that is as far as I am willing to go. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Matty says, still workin it.
“And you both know that er’
body else is gonna want to go on a field trip too.”
“We’ll tell them we are off to get root canals,” Matty offers reasonably.
“No, sir, you will not. Cuz, we both know you gonna come prancing back in here with a weave and fancy makeup.”
This, he smiles at, but he still doesn’t look up at her. To be honest, I don’t even think his birthday is coming up. Anyway, who knows if Sutton will even sign off on it. Although he did take me to the top of a mountain.
Colleen and the rest of the staff go about their work, evidently resigned to the fact that Matty is wielding some tweezers, and no longer at risk of jamming them in his eye or slitting his wrists with them. He is still plucking the shit out of my eyebrows, but we are mostly alone now.
“Matty, if Sutton says yes, you aren’t really going to cut your hair, are you?” I know how much he loves his hair. In fact, he takes better care of himself and takes more pride in his looks than any of us.
My hair is long, just past my bra-strap, but the most I ever do with it is sleep in two French braids, so it’s wavy the next day. I was lucky not to get all the acne the other teenagers did on the juvenile unit, but it’s probably because I never wore makeup back then. Now, Matty does our makeup all the time just for fun.
“Of course not, didn’t you hear Colleen? I’m getting a weave.” All of a sudden, with no thought whatsoever, I broach the subject.
“Do you sometimes wish you were born a girl?”
He stops plucking, but he leaves his arms up and doesn’t look away from my eye contact. Part of me wants to take the tweezers and shove them in my own eye just to distract him from my question, but he surprises me when he answers.
“Every day.”
His answer stuns me. Not because I haven’t thought so for a long time, but because I never thought he would admit it. I recover quickly.
“Then, I think you should get a weave.”
“You know I can’t. There isn’t a place in the world for people like me,” he mumbles quietly, making my jaw drop open.
“Then, you need to make one.”
“I wish it was that easy, Mercy.”
“I know it’s not. I’m sorry the world isn’t ready for your awesomeness.”
“Maybe someday.”
“Have you ever told anyone about feeling that way?”
“I talk about it with Sutton but never with Sig, and I’ve never told anyone else.” My heart swells at the idea of Sutton making that kind of a breakthrough with Matty. He might be just what this unit needed.
“When we live together, you are going to do my makeup, and we are going to play dress-up all day.”
“Ok, but guurl! You need to stay on top of these eyebrows!” We both laugh, and then I risk a tweezer in the eye to pull him into a tight hug.
“I love you, Matty Hopkins.”
He kisses my head, “I love you more, Mercy Kavanaugh.”
“MATTY! You done with those tweezers yet?”
“Ugh, the forbidden embrace,” he scowls and pulls away before calling over his shoulder, “Not just yet, Ma’am.”
***
Colleen comes into my room right before shift change, which is unusual. Lyla is brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed, so we are mostly alone.
“Mercy, you know Dr. Sutton can’t sign Matty off the unit. If things were different, if Matty’s case were different, then maybe.”
“I know,”
“I did speak with the doctor, and it’s different for you because there is a transition plan in place. We all want you to be successful when you leave here, that’s why Dr. Sutton has all that stuff planned for you off the unit.”
“What stuff?” I perk up. I’d even climb that mountain again if it meant I could lay in his lap and have him stroke my hair again.
“You haven’t talked about your transition with him?” she asks, surprised.
“Ad nauseam. But nothing about being off the unit.”
“He didn’t talk about life skills classes? Cooking, driving, paying bills? Nothing like that?”
“He did but, I guess I never—I didn’t really think about that stuff being off the unit.”
“Girl, you know Dr. Sigmund would have kept you under his wing forever. But Dr. Sutton wants to see you fly.”
“I know,” my words catch in my throat. I am developing intense feelings for him, and it has not one fucking thing to do with transference.
“Now, about Matty. We all know how special he is, so I’d like to do something for his birthday. Lord knows this unit could use a little fun. Never mind that, that boy’s birthday was five months ago, he deserves the world, and I want to give it to him.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“A slumber party.”
“He can’t sleep on the women’s unit, and we can’t sleep on his.”
“Nobody said nothing about sleep. I’m talking about facial masks, nail polish, deep conditioning treatments—all that girly stuff. We’ll do it on Monday night when all those silly men feel the need to holler at the TV and beat their chests every time someone scores a touchdown. What do you think? Dr. Sutton already gave me his stamp of approval.”
“What do I think? I think I’d like to take you with me when I leave.”
“Oh, Mercy, you know how much I love you all. You deserve the best the Lord has to offer.” Then she hugs me tight—like, way tighter than normal.
Chapter 13
When I walk into Sutton’s office, he surprises me by standing up from his desk, shoving both hands into his pants pockets, and asking me if I’m ready.
“Ready for what?”
“Your hair appointment at the salon. Matty was very specific.”
“You are taking me to the hair salon?”
“Yeah, normally, a tech would take you, but alas, one was not available. We only have an hour, so let’s hit it.”
“But why are you taking me?”
“I’m multi-tasking. This is our session today,” he says as he holds the door open for me. Mmmmm, I like the out of work Sutton, this will be fun.
Once we are in his truck and on our way, he asks, “Are there any developments on the Wesley front?”
“Developments like what?” I look over at his profile and wonder if he might be a tiny bit jealous. “He hangs out with us and smiles at me a lot. And he’s told me I’m beautiful a few times.”
“Are you attracted to him?”
“Of course, me and half the unit. He is cute, and maybe a little bit of a bad boy, all tatted up.”
“I want to caution you again about him,” he says with authority, while also holding back.
“Why? Is he a bad person?”
“You know I can’t talk about another patient with you. I’m just saying you both should be focused on your mental health, not a temporary crush.”
“You said it yourself, I’m almost twenty-one, a healthy sex drive is good for me.”
“That doesn’t mean you should jump on the first guy that calls you beautiful.”
“What makes you think I’m jumping on him?” I ask, and if I’m completely honest, it’s kind of fun stoking his apparent jealousy. It makes me feel better about the whole transference rebuke.
“I didn’t mean jumping on him—”
“Because it would really be more like bouncing, wouldn’t it?” I ask as I bounce up and down in the seat a few times. I have no idea how to have sex, but that’s what I’m trying to simulate. Sutton’s jaw drops, and he openly stares at me while he should be watching the road.
A few quiet minutes go by before he speaks again, “Just please promise me you will have high standards when it comes to men. There is a whole sea of men that will want to sleep with you, but only a tiny fraction of them will be worthy of you.”
***
When Matty, Lyla, and Veronica told me I needed to tend the garden, I thought they had a razor in mind. I suppose being on a unit where only electric razors are used; I should have known.
F
or anyone who has never felt the white-hot pain of having your nether region waxed, allow me to explain. Imagine peeling your vagina skin off, and, well, that’s it. It’s raw and blisteringly painful, and I think I’d rather put my fist through a cheese grater.
When Sutton picks me up, with exactly the same hair, and an additional sheen of sweat covering my body, all I can say to him is, “You were right, Matty was very specific.”
“Did you decide not to have your hair done?”
“Trust me when I say, I absolutely had my hair done.”
“They decided they couldn’t mess with perfection, right?” he smiles and reaches up to run his fingers through my hair, then stops short and settles for tucking a lock of it behind my ear. He has absolutely no idea of the horror I just experienced, but he did have to stop himself from touching me—so, that almost makes it all worth it.
“Depends on your idea of perfection, Sutton. Tell me, do you prefer a pre-pubescent vagina?” He stops the truck just before pulling out of the parking lot and gives me a pointed stare.
“What are we talking about here, Mercy?”
“Vaginas. Do men prefer them bare? Or natural?”
“I can’t speak for all men, but—How did we get on the topic of vaginas, exactly?”
“I’ve been on the topic for thirty minutes, and trust me, I bear the battle wounds.”
“What the hell went on in there?”
“It’s better you don’t know.”
“Apparently so. Hey, I’m going to stop for coffee, you want one?”
***
Back at the unit, I’m just in time for art. Today we are shaving crayons and placing the flakes between wax paper. When we have the shavings all placed like we want them, the staff comes around and irons over the top of it, melting the design together. It would be fun, except my friends cannot stop giggling about my hair salon ambush.
I wish they would shut up too because Wes is sitting next to me—he saved me a seat, actually. The first time he brushed his hand against my leg, I thought it was an accident. The residual path of his touch blazed hot on my thigh and sent a reminder to my brain about the newly awakened state of my sexuality.
