Nu Alpha Omega

by H. Claire Taylor

  Dr. Page shrugged but her smile returned. “Okay, sure. Let’s just get you set up and take a peek anyway. Plenty of other ways to catch a disease!” Her hopeful tone was not appreciated. “So I’m just going to take a look-see and get a swab of it, and we can test you for any infections or diseases. Anything in particular you’re worried about?”

  Jess refrained from saying, “That God doesn’t exist and I’m incurably insane.” Instead she went with, “Nope.”

  Dr. Page nodded. “Okay. But how about we just run the gauntlet anyway?”

  “The gauntlet?”

  “Yeah, it’s no biggie. We just take a couple swabs, then you go get your blood drawn and from that we can test you for everything.”

  “Everything?” Did schizophrenia show up on blood tests? She was pretty sure not.

  “Yep!” Dr. Page said cheerily. “Gonorrhea, chlamydia, HPV, HIV, and a few others, like syphilis.” Her eyes widened excitedly. “It’s rare to find that one, but it’s always a treat! Whoops! Syphilis!” She laughed and Jessica tried to laugh, too, but she was confused. Wasn’t syphilis a horrible disease? The way Dr. Page was talking about it made her wonder if it wasn’t some sort of laughing illness. Or maybe it caused a person to hallucinate that everything horrible was actually great, in which case Jessica hoped she had syphilis.

  “Sure, the gauntlet sounds fine.”

  She leaned back and put her ankles in the stirrups as instructed, shivering against the air meeting her nether parts.

  Dr. Page dove under the blanket and poked at Jessica with a gloved finger. It wasn’t terrible. She tried to relax and breathe, and at the exact moment she thought she’d accomplished that small victory, something cold and unforgiving entered her and she sucked in air.

  “Just relax,” Dr. Page instructed. “This thing just holds you open so I can get the swab in there.”

  A second later, Jessica felt like someone was rubbing steel wool just behind her mound. Her eyes crossed involuntarily and she clenched by accident, causing the cold metal to stretch her uncomfortably, holding her open.

  “All right!” Dr. Page removed the spacer and popped up from underneath the sheet. “Looking great down there!”

  “Thanks,” Jess mumbled weakly.

  Once Jess was able to sit up again, Dr. Page pulled off her gloves, tossed them in a hazardous waste bin, and sat back on the stool again. “Any questions before I send you to get your blood drawn? Birth control, anything?”

  Not wanting to explain that birth control was entirely unnecessary, Jess hurriedly said, “Nope.”

  But a moment before Dr. Page left the room, she remembered. “Oh wait. Yeah, I actually came here because I want to see a psychologist.”

  Dr. Page turned to face Jess, inspecting her closely. “Ah. I guess it is the end of January, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Jess said, wondering if January was especially bad for insanity.

  Dr. Page nodded. “Well, for what it’s worth, only about five percent of people taking Intro to Psychology ever actually self-diagnose correctly. Or at least that’s the rate I’ve found.” She headed over to her computer, typed in a few notes and then asked, “Symptoms?”

  “I … um.” Where did she even start? It felt weird to talk about it with a stranger, but if ever there was one who she should feel comfortable with, it was the one who’d just inspected her vagina. “I talk to God.”

  Dr. Page guffawed, then muffled it quickly, her back still to Jessica as she faced the computer screen. “You mean like everyone does?”

  “Huh?”

  Now Dr. Page turned toward her. “You mean you talk to God like everyone on this campus claims to do?”

  “Um. Yeah. I guess so.”

  Dr. Page softened. “Listen, you have quite a reputation, and I don’t pretend to know what your life is like, but college takes a lot of adjusting, and everyone thinks they’re losing their mind when they’re in week three of the intro to psychology coursework.”

  “He talks back, though.”

  “Come again?”

  “God talks back to me. Not in signs or in feelings, but in actual words. A lot of words. Too many words.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Dr. Page whirled around in her chair and started typing furiously. “Yeah, that’s crazy. We’ll get you all set up with Dr. Lincoln for that.” A few more clicks of the mouse and she turned back to Jessica, her happy grin back in place. “All set up. Good luck with the counseling! You can get dressed now and follow the signs toward the testing center.”

  And with that she left Jessica alone to put her clothes back on and get her blood drawn.

  * * *

  Dr. Lincoln’s office reminded Jessica of Mrs. Thomas’s office in Mooremont High, except it smelled less like lavender and more like Pine-Sol. There was no papasan chair either, but rather a black fake-leather sofa that Jessica assumed was ordered in bulk with the sofas she’d seen in the student lounge of the honors building. No daybed for her to lie down on, like in the movies and television, just an unyielding, unstainable couch.

  Dr. Lincoln was petite, perhaps in her midthirties with a few grays in her brunette hair catching the lamplight whenever she tilted her head from one side to the other, going through all the motions of listening to the psychological foreplay that Jessica spewed in an attempt to get a read on the doctor before she unleashed all her deepest, heavenly secrets.

  She was just getting started on a rough character sketch of Destinee when Dr. Lincoln stopped her gently with a raised hand. “So, are we here to discuss your mother today?”

  “Um, no. I just thought that’s where y’all always started.”

  The doctor nodded understandingly. “Yes, sometimes we start there, but we don’t have to. I want you to tell me about what’s bothering you, not what you think I want to hear.”

  Jessica shifted uncomfortably on the cushion. “Okay. Then, I guess I’m here to talk about my brain?”

  “Specifically?”

  “Whether it’s fucked up or not.”

  “And why do you think it’s … fucked up?”

  Just go for it.

  “Because I can hear God’s voice talking to me.”

  Dr. Lincoln nodded calmly like this wasn’t a huge damned bombshell. “Is God talking to you right now?”

  “No. I think he’s in the Middle East. He spends a lot of time there lately.”

  A slight flare of her nostrils gave away Dr. Lincoln’s struggle to keep a straight face. “Why do you think that is?”

  Jessica shrugged. This seemed so beside the point. “Because people are constantly blowing each other up over there. It’s basically the epicenter of Original Mistake on Earth.”

  Dr. Lincoln cleared her throat. “I’m not familiar with that term, Original Mistake.”

  Jessica waved her off. “It’s complicated. Basically God was bored before the big bang, so he created imperfection and it all went downhill from there.”

  “So you believe in the big bang then.”

  Well, at least Dr. Lincoln was actively trying to get a read on Jessica’s beliefs. Maybe this wasn’t a waste of time after all. “Yeah, of course.”

  “It’s just that some people believe that the earth was created in a different way. By God’s hand in seven days. You don’t believe that?”

  Jessica chuckled. “Uh, no. I mean, there was a process, but it took a hell of a long time, apparently. He had trouble with stars and then he created some physics rules and then the stars stopped exploding and he moved onto things like planets and then I think boomerangs were in there somewhere—” She noticed what she’d said and paused. “I am crazy, right?”

  Dr. Lincoln remained calm. “I would say you strike me as remarkably sane, actually. But that doesn’t rule out other possibilities that might be at play here. Just relax. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

  Jessica nodded, sighed deeply, and let herself slouch back onto the stiff couch.

  “So tell me more about how this voice of God plays into
your everyday life. Is it disruptive?”

  “OH, yeah. I mean, not always, but he—or whatever it is—pops in at inopportune times pretty regularly.”

  Dr. Lincoln wrote a note on her clipboard. “And what does he say when he drops in?”

  “He usually talks about who’s boning whom.”

  “Mm-hmm, mm-hmm,” Dr. Lincoln said quickly. “So this voice usually talk about sex, or does it mention other things?”

  Jess thought about it. “Usually sex. But sometimes other things.”

  The doctor checked a box on her sheet then looked up. She appeared confident now. Perhaps she’d already arrived at a diagnosis but wasn’t yet showing her cards. “And when the voice talk about sex, is there judgment associated with it?”

  “I guess. Sometimes. He tends to be pretty hypocritical about it, though.”

  Dr. Lincoln nodded compassionately. “And how does it make you feel to have an authoritative male voice saying judgmental and hypocritical things about sex?”

  Jessica hesitated before answering, as she couldn’t shake the growing suspicion that whatever path they were going down was in the completely wrong direction. “It’s pretty annoying.”

  Dr. Lincoln shifted in her seat. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question, Jessica?”

  More personal than talking about the voice in my head?

  “Uh, no, that’s fine.”

  “Does this perceived patriarchal presence affect your sex life in any way?”

  Jess cackled, causing Dr. Lincoln to blink and jerk her head back. “What sex life?”

  Once the doctor recovered from the startle, she nodded and jotted down another note. “Tell me more about that.”

  Talking to a stranger about her problems with Chris was somehow even more embarrassing than admitting she was probably hearing voices. She fought back the impulse to ask if Dr. Lincoln wanted to take a peep at her vagina first, since that had done a good job of breaking the ice with Dr. Page.

  “There’s not much to talk about. I’ve been dating the same guy since tenth grade, we’ve messed around, but we’ve never been able to have sex.”

  That caught the doctor’s attention. “Been able?”

  “Yeah. We have, um, performance issues.”

  “Okay. That can happen. But you both want to engage in intercourse?”

  “Desperately.”

  “And what’s your boyfriend’s name?”

  “Chris.”

  “Does Chris also hear God’s voice?”

  “No, thankfully.” What a nightmare that would be. Speaking of nightmares, though … “But he does have Jesus dreams like I do.”

  Dr. Lincoln pouted out her lips thoughtfully, then said, “And did Chris grow up in the church?”

  Jessica nodded. “For a while. I think he stopped going in high school.”

  “And what denomination was he?”

  There was that word again. When she hesitated, Dr. Lincoln hazarded a guess. “Baptist?”

  That didn’t sound familiar. “No. Maybe United something?”

  “United Methodist?”

  “Yes. That.”

  “Hm.” Seemed she’d expected something different. “I wouldn’t worry too much about the Jesus dreams, for you or for Chris. You might be surprised by how many students I talk to who suffer similar dreams.”

  “You mean people who have the same dream?”

  “Roughly the same, yes.”

  “No,” Jess said firmly. “Exactly the same. Chris and I have had the exact same Jesus dream before, word for word.”

  Dr. Lincoln stared unblinkingly at Jessica. “And what happened in this dream?”

  Jessica thought back to it, and when she did, it felt more like a memory than a dream. “Chris and I were making out in his truck, about to have sex, and then Jesus appeared.”

  Dr. Lincoln held up a hand. “I don’t want you to get too worked up about this dream phenomenon. Dreams can be a useful peek into a person’s psyche, but that’s about it. Oftentimes two people will believe they’ve had the same dream when really they’re drawing upon shared experiences or trauma. As one recounts the dream, the other’s memory can alter to adopt the new details. Memory is a fascinating thing, but it can sometimes betray us.”

  “No. You don’t understand,” Jess said. Was Dr. Lincoln even listening to her? She’d opened up about the dream—something she hadn’t even told Miranda—and the response was to say it didn’t happen?

  Sure, she was here because she thought she was crazy, but now that she was essentially being told she was crazy, she didn’t so much want the diagnosis. Maybe deep down she’d simply wanted to come here to be told she was sane, that God really was speaking to her and to hell (maybe literally) with anyone who didn’t believe her. But clearly she’d come to the wrong place for that.

  “We had the same dream. The exact same dream.”

  “Okay, we’ll let that be for now. Tell me, though, have you and Chris ever experienced trauma together? Any events that could have imprinted strongly on you both?”

  Where to start? “We were involved in a traffic fatality last year.”

  “Before the shared dream?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “I imagine that was a lot for both of you to deal with.”

  “Not really,” Jess said, feeling the opposition to the doctor grow inside her. “We didn’t like the woman who died. And then I brought her back to life anyway.”

  Dr. Lincoln blinked three times before the meaning of Jessica’s words seemed to sink in. “You mean with CPR?”

  “No. With God power. I performed a miracle. I don’t know how to explain that away, actually.” She’d avoided even addressing the issue, confining the inconsistency to a small dark place in her mind where she stored her memories of Randy McAllister’s doughy ring of torso fat and Gary Higgins’s busty cat drawings.

  Looking suddenly uncomfortable, the doctor focused down on her notes. “Um, well, there’s always an explanation.”

  “Then what is it?” Jessica demanded, feeling both angry and desperate. “Is there a drug for this?”

  Dr. Lincoln held up a hand to calm her, but it had the opposite effect. “Let’s not jump to anything, okay? We don’t have a diagnosis, and I’m not concerned at this point, so you shouldn’t be either.”

  Jessica’s annoyance intensified. “You’re not concerned about my ability to bring people back from the dead? Because let me tell you, it ain’t pretty.”

  “People? This has happened more than once?” Her posture became rigid, her ass glued to the seat.

  “Yeah, people. Jesus, Doc, don’t you read the news?” How had she not heard of all this already? She was young enough to have no excuse.

  “Well, yes, I read the newspaper sometimes. But I find most of it is a distraction from reality, not to mention inaccurate. So I tend to limit myself to whatever’s around me, things that I have more control over.”

  As interesting of a concept as that was, Jessica couldn’t help but dislike Dr. Lincoln for her reluctance to join the masses in their media-induced misery. Who did she think she was, getting away unscathed by lies and misinformation?

  “Okay, fine. Well, yeah, I can perform miracles. I can bring people back from the dead and kick field goals from stupid distances.”

  “Field goals …?” Dr. Lincoln asked cautiously.

  Jessica sat bolt upright on the couch. “Holy hell, woman. You know what a field goal is, right?”

  “Does it upset you that I don’t?”

  “Um, not upset with you, but for you.”

  “Why does it upset you, Jessica?”

  She opened her mouth, but paused when she realized she had no clue. “I don’t know. I guess you should know about football if you live in this state.”

  Dr. Lincoln tilted her head to the side like she was inspecting a petri dish. “And why do you feel that is necessary?”

  “I don’t know. I had to learn about it, so did everyone else. Why shouldn’t yo
u have to, also? If you live here, you should learn to adapt. It’s what people do.”

  Nodding, Dr. Lincoln inhaled deeply and worried her lower lip thoughtfully. “You grew up in a small town, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You know, sometimes the things we accept as absolute truth in the culture we grew up in aren’t actually absolute truth. They’re just imposed expectations.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Tell me about your father.”

  Jessica was confused. “I already did.”

  The doctor browsed her notes briefly. “I’m afraid I don’t remember that, and I don’t have any notes on it.”

  “God. God is my father.”

  “Ah.” She couldn’t suppress the chuckle that rumbled in her chest, escaping her nose in a sharp exhale. “Okay. So you believe you’re the daughter of God.”

  Jessica nodded, then frowned and shrugged. “That’s why I’m here, I guess. I used to believe it, but lately I’m about sixty to eighty percent sure I’m just crazy.”

  “So does that mean you believe you’re a messiah? That Jesus is your …” She seemed reluctant to say the word, so Jessica did her the favor.

  “Half-brother. Yeah.”

  “That’s quite a lot of pressure to put on yourself.”

  “You’re telling me. I wouldn’t wish this upon my worst enemy.” Then she thought about Courtney Wurst. “Actually, yeah, I would.”

  “Do you feel like you’re being punished?”

  Jessica laughed at that. It was a ridiculous idea, but also right on the nose. “It sure as hell feels that way. But I’m not sure what I’m being punished for.”

  “Would you say your upbringing was repressive?”

  “Like how?” Though she had a feeling she knew what the doctor meant, she’d just never thought about it in those terms.

  “Do you feel like you were able to embrace being a girl, or were you forced to take on more masculine qualities to thrive?”

  Jessica paused to think about it. “What’s a feminine quality?”

  “You tell me,” Dr. Lincoln countered. “When you think of the way girls should be, what comes to mind?”

  Jessica imagined the most quintessential girl she knew: Emma Sanderson. That would be a good enough working model, considering it was what all the guys were apparently looking for. “I dunno, big boobs, kind of dumb, friendly but secretly mean, perfect hair, wears makeup, liked by everyone …”