Perfunctory Affection

by Kim Harrison

  Resigned to being here for at least twenty minutes, Meg sat back and stilled her jiggling foot before Dr. Jillium wrote that down. “It felt good at the time,” she admitted. “But when the excitement wore off, I was left wondering if I’m making a mistake. What’s the harm in listening to him? I mean, it’s been three years. Don’t I owe him a few minutes if only to give him a reason why?”

  “Perhaps you could write down how you feel in a letter,” Dr. Jillium said, and it was all Meg could do to not roll her eyes. “That way, you have closure, and he won’t bother you anymore.”

  “A letter?” Meg echoed, her voice flat. “Do you really think that will do it?”

  Dr. J shrugged. “It will if you want it to. Would you like to compose it together?”

  A letter would be court-worthy, documented evidence that she’d asked him to leave her alone. Maybe that was what Dr. Jillium was after. “No,” Meg said, feeling the pinch of time. “I should do it myself,” she added when Dr. Jillium crossed her legs disapprovingly. “Mail it off. Be done with it. Besides, I really have to get back to class. I gave them twenty minutes to get their homework up and displayed. I didn’t realize you’d want to talk.”

  Dr. Jillium glanced at the wall clock, her head bobbing. “That’s right. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Let me get your meds then, and we can talk more tomorrow.”

  She rose, and Meg stifled her impatience as Dr. Jillium went to the cabinet and unlocked it with a key on her car’s fob. Taking out a small vial, she locked it back up again before turning to flip Meg’s paper file open. “Thank you again for being so amendable to coming in like this,” she said, head down as she copied a number on the vial into Meg’s file. “I know it’s inconvenient.”

  Realizing her hands were clasped, Meg forced them flat on her knees. “No worries. You’re only a ten-minute walk away.”

  Her expression pleasant, Dr. Jillium crossed the office, vial in hand. “Here you go. Again, I’m sorry we have to do this day by day, but until Chris is found, I’d feel more comfortable. He can’t be allowed any more Fitrecepon, and a week’s worth might damage him beyond recovery.”

  “It’s not a problem.” Meg took it, dropping it in her purse as she stood. “He seems as if he needs a lot of help,” she said, fiddling with her new necklace.

  “I blame myself,” Dr. Jillium said, and Meg’s escape to the door slowed from curiosity. “He seemed as if he was handling it and that the Fitrecepon was doing him a lot of good. He’d become more outgoing, positive about the future. Had even made a few friends that he’d been spending time with. Almost a new person.” Hesitating, Dr. Jillium looked Meg up and down. “It all began to fall apart right about the time he took off his wedding ring. He said it was making his finger itch, but the more I think about it, the more I think it was just an excuse. I don’t think he was having an allergic reaction at all. Perhaps he was just afraid to admit that he’d let his wife and child go and blaming it on a rash was easier.”

  Meg clasped her purse before her like a fig leaf. “People are funny like that.”

  “Aren’t they?” Dr. Jillium stood before the long couch, an odd look on her face. “Meg, I don’t want to change your dosage, but we might want to consider easing back on how often you take them. Can I see your log? It will only take a few minutes.”

  “Ah, I didn’t bring it,” she lied. “Is tomorrow okay?” She could jot down a few things tonight. Write down when she’d been taking them, and why.

  “It’s in your purse,” Dr. Jillium said helpfully. “I saw it when you put the Fitrecepon in it.” Meg froze, and seeing it, Dr. Jillium sighed in disappointment. “You haven’t been keeping up with your log, have you,” she accused, and Meg winced.

  “I know I’ve only been taking four a day,” Meg said, voice high. “One in the morning, one at night, and two during the day. I’ve done all the other homework.”

  Dr. Jillium sat back on the tall arm of the couch. “Meg, we aren’t even in clinical trials. I need this information to justify making it available to other people who need it. The intent was to have a record of the changes in your behavior so we could make a better guess as to Fitrecepon’s therapeutic duration and its long-term effect.”

  “I can tell you exactly what the effect is. It works! Look at me!” Meg exclaimed, gesturing down at herself.

  “I am,” she said calmly. “And I’m concerned that you haven’t been keeping a record of your emotions. The changes in the brain can become permanent, so it’s important that they are the right ones.”

  “Dr. J…” Meg almost whined, and then she turned when the unseen door to the apartment opened and Austin called out, “Dr. Jillium? Is Meg here? I just want to talk to her for five minutes. Just five minutes, and I promise I’ll never bother her again.”

  “Son of a bitch…” Meg whispered.

  “Meg?” Dr. Jillium questioned when Meg retreated deeper into the office until her back was to the window, staring at the office door as if it was the gateway to hell.

  “It’s Austin,” she said bitterly, and Dr. Jillium’s lips parted in shock before she steeled her expression back to a neutral calm. “This is all Austin’s fault. Everything would be perfect if he’d just leave me alone!”

  “I agree,” her psychiatrist said. “But we need to talk this out before I can give you any more Fitrecepon.”

  Meg spun, Austin almost forgotten in her sudden panic. She was going to withhold her meds because of Austin? He was stalking her. “But this is his fault!” she exclaimed, only to turn back to the door when Austin scuffed to a halt in the threshold, looking hot and ragged for having run it, probably.

  “This is not my fault,” he said hotly, then pointed at Dr. J, the woman’s eyes wide as she stared at Meg. “Everything was fine until the Fitrecepon,” Austin said as he limped in. “It was under control. Now it’s new shoes, new dress, new friends, new attitude.”

  “You think it’s too fast?” Dr. Jillium said, but she was still looking at Meg, and Meg held her elbows, nervous. “That’s why I want to lower the meds. Just until everything catches up.”

  “Catches up?” Austin exclaimed. “Are you serious?”

  Dr. Jillium’s lips pressed. “Okay. I’m going to get you something to drink, and we can sit down and talk this out.” Pushing into motion, she headed for the kitchen. Meg followed, not liking the ugly look Austin had. It was mean. She’d never seen it before, and it scared her.

  “So you can put something into it and make all of this go away?” he said bitterly, not moving out of the threshold. “Not this time,” he said, and Meg reached out, grabbing Dr. Jillium’s elbow, yanking her back before Austin did something awful.

  “Hey!” the woman protested as she swung around and back into the room, stumbling to catch her balance.

  “Stay out of my way,” Austin threatened, and Meg followed him, panicked as he stomped over to the cabinet behind the desk. He wouldn’t destroy the Fitrecepon, would he? she thought as he rattled the door to find it locked.

  “Meg. Sit down. We need to talk,” Dr. Jillium said, her voice firm but shaken. “I’m sorry about your class. I’ll call your supervisor later today and explain.”

  Damn it, Austin, you’re ruining everything, Meg thought as Austin rattled the cabinet’s door again. Dr. Jillium was going to cut her off, and it was all Austin’s fault. She should have just run him over when she had the chance.

  “This is not going to happen.” Austin said bitterly.

  Meg’s eyes widened as he made a fist, his eyes fixed on the cabinet’s glass door. “Austin, no!” she cried, lurching forward as he slammed it into the glass. The antique glass shattered, and she fell back against Dr. Jillium’s desk, shocked as he used the stapler to knock the remaining shards away, his hand a bloodied mess.

  Standing beside the window, Dr. Jillium took out her phone, her expression grim.

  “What are you doing!” Meg demanded as Austin yanked her forward, grabbed the paint thinner out of her purse, and shoved
her back.

  “I’m calling 911.” Her lips pressed tight in anger, Dr. Jillium put her cell phone to her ear.

  “Like hell you are,” Austin said, and Meg stood, transfixed as he threw the heavy tin of paint thinner at her.

  “Dr. Jillium!” Meg shrieked, and she looked up, eyes widening as the tin hit her square on the temple.

  Dr. Jillium dropped like a stone, the phone spilling from her fingers to slide across the flat carpet.

  “911. Please state your emergency,” came from the speaker, and Meg ran to Dr. Jillium, crouching to give the woman a shake. She was breathing, but unconscious. Angry, Meg took the can of paint thinner and stood. It was red with Austin’s blood, and it stained her hand.

  “What are you doing!” she exclaimed, furious as she closed the gap between them. “Stop it. Just stop it! You’re going to ruin everything!”

  “I’m not the one ruining it.” Austin’s expression was ugly as he jerked the can of paint thinner out of her hand. “You are.”

  “Austin, stop!” she said, horrified as he unscrewed the cap and doused the cabinet, inside and out. “Austin!” she shrieked as, with a malevolent smile, he lit his lighter and tossed it in. With a whoosh, the cabinet was engulfed in flames. A thick, black smoke rolled out and up, covering the ceiling frighteningly fast. With a snap, the glass sides began to crack and pop. “My God! What are you doing!”

  Austin tossed the lighter onto the desk. “I’m trying to save us,” he said, eyes holding a heavy anger. “It’s those damn pills, Meg. They’re driving you away from me. Without you, I’m nothing. I can’t let that happen.”

  Ticked, Meg stood toe to toe with him. “I like who I am when I’m on them,” she asserted hotly. “What is your problem! You’re the reason I’m such a mess! You kept me weak and helpless for three years. Well, I’m done with that. Done! Get out!”

  He turned to look at the cabinet, the interior a flaming hell. “You’ll be back,” he said in a perverse satisfaction. Turning on a heel, he walked out.

  Meg coughed, squinting through the smoke at the cabinet. The vials weren’t on fire… yet. Heart pounding, she screwed up her courage and reached in, yelping as her hand felt the heat. Two vials rolled onto the floor. Meg pounced on them, shocked at how much cooler and cleaner the air was at the floor.

  Eyes watering, she dropped to her knees, shoving the vials into her purse before crawling to Dr. Jillium. She could hear sirens outside. “Austin, you little bastard!” she shouted, and then, hanging her purse around her neck, she grabbed the woman by her shoulders and dragged her to the door.

  Smoke filled the outer room. Alarms were going off all over the entire building, and she could hear people shouting in the hall, their voices high as they realized it was for real. “What the hell is the matter with you, Austin,” she whispered, watering eyes clamped shut as she pulled Dr. Jillium through the waiting area. She fumbled at the door, and smoke billowed into the hall when she finally got it open. Choking, she rose, hunched as she dragged Dr. Jillium down the hall.

  A looming shadow on the stairs suddenly appeared, and she shrieked, terrified it was Austin until she realized it was a fireman. “Help me!” she cried out, and the man flipped his face shield up.

  A fresh-scrubbed face squinted at her before he pushed past and hoisted Dr. Jillium into a carry. “Is there anyone else in there?” he asked, and Meg turned to look, smoke and heat billowing out of Dr. Jillium’s office.

  “No,” she said, remembering Austin’s ugly expression when he left them. Then she gasped as he pushed her into motion down the stairs. “Did you see him? He ran out the door right before me.”

  “Who?” the fireman said, and Meg slowed, sucking in the cooler, cleaner air like water.

  This was definitely going to make the news. She didn’t want to have to explain to Haley and Rorry that it was her old boyfriend who torched Dr. Jillium’s office, much less why she was there, but Dr. Jillium knew who Austin was, and as soon as she regained consciousness, the truth would be out. “My old boyfriend,” she said, feeling as if she was betraying Austin, but he’d knocked Dr. Jillium out and tried to burn the building down along with her drug supply. “He’s the one who started the fire. Is Dr. Jillium going to be okay?”

  “We’ll do what we can,” he said, then pressed Meg against the stairway wall to make room for the two firemen dragging a hose upstairs. “Room of origin is clear!” he shouted after them, and a crackled response came back on his headset.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Meg demanded again, and the fireman got her moving downstairs.

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he said, and then Meg was blinking, staring as she came out and into chaos. People were clustered across the road, most of them on their phones as they rubbernecked. An ambulance was just pulling up, joining the two fire trucks already on scene. Three cop cars were on hand, two blocking off either end of the street.

  “Here! Over here! Smoke inhalation and blunt trauma to the head!” the fireman called, but the two paramedics were already on their way, a gurney rattling over the uneven sidewalk.

  Meg held her burned hand close, gaze fixed on Dr. Jillium. “She’s got to be okay,” Meg said, and the fireman smiled encouragingly.

  “She seems stable,” he said, then relinquished her to the paramedics, his voice serious as he told them what he knew.

  That really wasn’t what Meg wanted to hear. Guilt about the meds in her purse kept her eyes down, but if she hadn’t taken the time to get them, who knew when or if she’d ever have access again? Maybe that had been the only stash?

  Burned hand held close to her middle, she watched Dr. Jillium loaded into the back of the ambulance. It didn’t drive away, and almost immediately, one man hopped back out and made a beeline back to her.

  “Ma’am?” the paramedic called, a portable oxygen generator and mask in his grip.

  Like thunder, reality crashed down to make her knees watery. Austin had almost killed them both. He had set fire to the building and walked out, leaving her to drag Dr. Jillium to safety. And why? Because she’d finally admitted he was a crutch and had left him so she could be something other than that weak, needy half-person he had wanted her to be.

  “I’m okay,” she protested as she clutched her purse, and the fireman eased her unresisting to sit on the grass outside the building. People were still coming out with their arms full of whatever they thought they’d miss the most, arguing when the police wouldn’t let them go back in for more. She didn’t know any of the residents, and she scanned the street for a sign of Austin. The urge to get in her car and drive away was almost an ache, but even if she could get to her car, she wouldn’t be able to get past the fire trucks.

  “Let me slip this on,” the paramedic said as he knelt beside her, and she felt she didn’t deserve his kindness.

  “Really, I’m okay,” she said again, but he didn’t listen, looping the mask into place. “We got out before the fire was too bad.”

  “Humor me then,” he said with a smile, and she looked up, the mask feeling alien as it fitted over her face. The air was tasteless, somehow, and she breathed slowly.

  “You’ll be fine now,” the fireman said, then lumbered over to the cops, his loud voice calling familiarly to them.

  “It’s a good thing you were there to get her out,” the paramedic said as he tightened one of the elastic straps.

  “I hope she thinks so when she wakes up,” Meg said sourly, her words echoing oddly behind the oxygen mask. Her hand stung, and she tried to hide it and Austin’s blood as the paramedic took her pulse and blood pressure.

  “How are you feeling? Do you need to lie down?” the man asked, and she looked up, feeling sick to her stomach. “Shock is a funny thing,” he added as he gently pried her burned arm from her middle so he could get a better look. “Go ahead. Lay down before you fall over. I’ll get your hand cleaned up. No, keep the mask on,” he said. “You look a little pale.”

  “I’m okay,” she insisted,
refusing to lie down, as she clutched her bag tight, averting her gaze as he poked and prodded.

  “It doesn’t look too bad,” he said, and she relaxed at his kind smile. “I think a spray anesthetic will help more than anything. Hang on. This won’t take long. What’s your name?”

  “Meg,” she breathed, and the mask fogged up. “Meg Seton. Is Dr. Jillium going to be okay?”

  He nodded as he sprayed something cool on her hand, and her shoulders eased in relief. “I think so. You got her out in time. How did she hit her head?”

  The image of Austin’s face screwed up in anger flashed through her. Fear that he might come after her if she brought him into it was a tight warning, and she dropped her gaze, watching the man wrap the last layer of gauze around her hand. Slowly she took the mask off, the straps tugging at her hair. Her smooth curls were going to smell like smoke, and she felt depressed.

  “I’m being stalked by my old boyfriend,” she said, though embarrassed she hadn’t done anything wrong. “He was arguing with Dr. Jillium, and when she called 911, he threw my can of paint thinner at her. I teach painting at the university and I was on my way back to class. He dumped it in her office, lit it, then walked out.”

  “Ah, do you feel up to telling that to police before you leave?” the paramedic asked, and she nodded as her shoulders crept back up around her ears. “Good, because otherwise, I’m going to insist that you get checked in if only for your own safety, and I don’t think this is so bad that we need to.”

  Her smile turned to relief, and she looked at her hand swaddled up in a neat bandage. Her wince when she tried to flex it vanished as the windows to Dr. Jillium’s office suddenly burst out, glass tinkling down to briefly shut up the residents still crabbing about trying to go back in. Smoke and fire rolled out, then subsided.

  “It’s lucky you were there to pull Dr. Jillium to safety,” the paramedic said, and Meg nodded, glad she had salvaged more than one day’s worth of meds. Dr. Jillium’s office was a total loss. All those records, gone. “Promise me you’ll get your hand looked at by your regular doctor within twenty-four hours. Infection is a real possibility with a wound like that.”