The Therapist

by Kelly Holm

  all he really wanted to do, was crawl back under the covers and disappear.

  Cheer up, man, no one wants to be around someone sad and depressing, he thought.

  He got dressed and rode over to Lucky Tat to start his day. As he pulled up and parked his bike, he waved to Myrtle Fontane, the eccentric lady who ran the second-hand clothing store that was next to the Lucky Tat. She was outside sweeping the front sidewalk like she did every morning. When he walked into Lucky Tat, he saw Ringo first.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Leo; I thought you were spending some time up at the cabin,” Ringo asked when he saw him.

  “I’ve had enough nature; I need to get back to work. All this extra time is allowing me time to think, and all I think about is her. I need to keep my mind occupied; I feel like I’m going crazy.”

  “I get it, man. We’ve been pretty busy the last few days, so I’m sure there will be plenty of walk-ins.”

  “That’s cool. Why so many walk-in’s? What, did every tattoo place around us close down while I was gone?” Leo asked jokingly.

  “Get this, you remember Bad Ink Tattoo, over in Stogie?”

  “Ya, Butch Austin owns the place, right? What about them?”

  “Place went up in flames a couple of nights ago, now everyone is coming here for tats.”

  “That’s a lucky break for us, but what a bummer for him. It was a pretty large shop, what happened?”

  “Apparently, Butch owed a lot of money to that biker gang, oh shit, what do they call themselves… oh ya, the Reckless, anyway, he owed them from what I hear, over half a million dollars, and couldn’t pay, so they beat the shit out of him, and burned his tattoo shop down.”

  “Wow, that’s insane. Is Butch ok?”

  “Ya, a couple broken bones, a broken nose and a lot of bruises, but he’ll live. They torched the shop after it closed for the night, so luckily, no one else was hurt. Unfortunately, I don’t think Butch will be opening up another shop any time soon.”

  “Wow, go away a few days, and all hell breaks loose. So, I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “I was wondering if you would be willing to tattoo this on my chest,” Leo said, as he unrolled the beautiful life-like portrait of Krystal that he drew.

  “This is amazing, man; did you draw this from memory?”

  “Ya, I figured since her face is permanently tattooed on my memory, it would be a good idea to get a matching one on my chest over my heart.”

  “Damn, you are an incredible artist. I’d love to tattoo this for you, but why me?”

  “Because you’re the only person I know, that would do it justice. You do amazing portraits, I know this one is already drawn for you, but you and I both know that’s the easy part,” Leo said, as they both chuckled a bit.

  “I’m touched that you would bestow this honor on me.”

  “Bestow this honor on you, really, man?” Leo said with a smirk.

  “You got me all choked up… oh, fuck you. Do you want this tat or not?” Ringo replied, feeling slightly embarrassed, but he was genuinely touched that Leo would trust him with something this important.

  “When do you think you’ll have time to do it?”

  “I’ll make time; you want color or black and gray?”

  “Black and gray for sure. What do you think, about five or six hours?”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “Let me know when you have time, I’ll sit anytime.”

  “We can start today; I don’t have many appointments booked. If I can convince Margo to take my next appointment, we can get started right away. I booked Scottie and Spitball to come in at 10:00 a.m. so, we’ll have plenty of people to cover the extra clients.”

  “Sounds like you have everything worked out. Are you sure your next appointment won’t be upset if you switch?”

  “Naw, they didn’t request me. Have a seat, and I’ll get the stencil ready.”

  Leo sat down in the chair and mentally prepared for the tattoo. He had several others, but he always likes to prepare himself, especially when it was going to be a long one.

  Chapter 7

  After Larisa Bergman left, Mila had one more appointment before the end of her day; this one was with George Wilkowski, one of her more interesting patients. George had been coming to see Mila for a little over a month now, complaining of depression, mood swings and sleepwalking; however, after a few sessions, Mila realized that he either had multiple personalities or an alter ego, he called Marco.

  George Wilkowski was born Georgie Peppercorn, twenty-seven years ago to Blanche Peppercorn and some unknown john she was with one night. He grew up without friends or siblings at his mother’s brothel, in the tiny town of Flackton, Nevada, in Crescent County where prostitution was legal.

  On George’s seventh birthday, his mother told him it was time he started pulling his own weight; and put him to work in her brothel. At first, George thought he would be cleaning rooms or something like that, but that wasn’t even close to what Blanche had in mind. Blanche figured out that people would pay big bucks to spend some alone time with a young boy. This was about the time Marco started appearing.

  Doing the sexual things with the adults made George very uncomfortable, but he liked to watch, so when it came time for him to perform, he let Marco take over and watched from the background. Then one day, when he was about twelve years old, a lady from child protection services showed up and took him away. He suddenly found himself in a new foster family; this one didn’t make him do the nasty stuff with the adults like Blanche did.

  He started to come out of his shell a little, and eventually he was officially adopted by the foster family. When his new mother, Mabel, suggested he take their last name he was thrilled and changed his name to George Wilkowski. Over the next few

  years, Marco seemed to fall into the background as George concentrated on school work and his growing coin collection.

  Then one afternoon, as he was packing to leave for college, his mother, Mabel, came into his bedroom wearing only a tee-shirt and her panties. She asked him to do to her what he used to do to the customers at Blanche’s Ranch. He was disgusted and deeply hurt, but called on Marco to do what his new mother asked. After that day, Marco became stronger and never left.

  Mila wasn’t sure which version of George she would see today; the soft-spoken accountant who collected coins and listened to classical music or Marco, the crazy, brash, willing to try anything once guy. All the signs were pointing to multiple personalities, but Mila still wasn’t sure, there was something that just didn’t jive.

  As she was waiting for George to arrive, she checked her messages. There was one from her colleague, Dr. Blackmore, which she missed while she was in session with Larisa Bergman; she quickly listened to the message.

  “Hi Mila, it’s Dr. Blackmore, I wanted to let you know that another payment has been deposited into your account. I was also wondering if you have any other candidates for me. Give me a call when you get a chance.”

  Just as she was dialing Dr. Blackmore back, the red light and buzzer went off telling her that her next appointment had arrived. Mila quickly went to the door to let George in. As she opened the door, she noticed he was dressed in a dirty tee-shirt and a ripped pair of jeans, not the usual khaki’s and pressed white shirt George typically wore.

  “Hello, George, please come in.”

  “George, that wimp isn’t here today. Can’t you tell us apart yet, doc?”

  Great, I get the perv today, she thought.

  “Of course, hello, Marco, please come in.”

  Marco conducted himself much differently than George did. He wasn’t shy or reserved, and he had no problem getting in people’s faces like George did. Marco had the confidence that George lacked.

  “That’s better… hey, you’re looking pretty hot today; I really like what you’re wearing; now that skirt really makes your ass look sexy,” he said, as he looked her up and down.<
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  “George, I mean, Marco, you know saying that to me, isn’t appropriate, right?”

  When George let Marco take over, he was always saying inappropriate things to Mila, most of them sexual. Some were harmless, like his backhanded compliment about her skirt, other times the comments were more direct and disgusting; like the time he told her that her lips and mouth were the perfect shapes for giving a blow job.

  “Whatever, I tell you that you look nice, not my problem if you can’t take a compliment,” he said, as he purposely walked around the office and avoided the sitting area, picking up photos and anything he could find.

  “Ok, let’s sit down and start the session. How are things going?”

  Marco walked over, plopped down in one of the chairs, and slouched down.

  “Just business as usual…”

  “How is your job going?”

  “Which one?”

  “You told me you were an accountant for Ness Tax & Bookkeeping Services; did you get a second job?”

  “Not recently, we’ve been doing both for years.”

  “What is the second job?”

  “I can’t divulge that information; George would kill me.”

  “Why would George be upset if you tell me about your second job?”

  “He doesn’t want anyone to know about it.”

  “But you do?”

  “I’m not ashamed of it, like him.”

  Marco sat in the chair nervously looking around, and licking his lips. Mila could tell he was nervous, and wanted to talk, but wasn’t sure what would happen if he did.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me? Maybe I can help George feel better about it.”

  “Oh, I highly doubt that.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because he’s fucked-up, broken; doesn’t know a good thing when it lands in his lap.”

  “Are you saying this second job just fell into his lap?”

  “Hell no, I worked my ass off to get us this opportunity, but George doesn’t see it that way. He wants to keep it all a big secret, but I hate secrets. You know what? I think I’m going to tell you, what do you think of that, George?”

  Mila carefully watched as Marco tried to face off with George, and she got a brilliant idea.

  “Marco, would you like a glass of water?”

  This was not normal water she was offering; this water was laced with a truth serum like drug that her colleague, Dr. Blackmore, created. It put the patient into an almost trance-like state, in which they feel compelled to tell their truth, and the best part is that the patients don’t remember what they say, it just feels like a blip of time was lost.

  “Sure, I’m feeling kind of thirsty.”

  Mila walked over to the table behind Marco and poured a glass of the water from the pitcher into a tall glass, and then handed it to Marco who immediately drank it. She paused a moment while she waited for the water to take effect.

  “You were saying, that you were going to tell me what your second job was,” Mila said.

  “Oh ya; you know George is going to kill me for telling you this, but what the hell. I can handle him. George and I have this scam going where we kidnap young girls and boys and sell them to these whore houses for cash.”

  Mila wasn’t expecting to hear that, she thought he was going to say he was working part-time somewhere; not that he kidnaps children. What a disgusting excuse for a person, she thought.

  “You kidnap children and sell them?”

  “More like pre-teens, the girls have to be at least twelve and the boys at least eight. Ya, we get phenomenal money for them, and it’s not that hard to do. Of course, I usually have to do most of the work; George just handles the money part. He’s such a wimp, we can sample the merchandise, but he never wants to, I always have to take over at that point.”

  Mila remembered seeing a report on the news about a young boy being abducted last month. I wonder if this guy is to blame. She suddenly realized that George would be a perfect candidate for Dr. Blackmore’s study.

  “Marco, is there any way I might be able to talk with George? I promise I won’t mention that you told me about the second job.”

  “I don’t know, I like to stay in control…,” he paused, “oh ok, but don’t forget, you promised not to tell him what I told you.”

  He sat back and closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, he changed his posture and became George again.

  “George?”

  “Yes, who did you think it was?”

  “A colleague of mine is doing a study with a new medication that I think would really benefit you. Do you think you might be interested?”

  “You were talking with Marco earlier, weren’t you; he didn’t tell you anything he wasn’t supposed to, did he?” George asked, cautiously.

  “No, we were just talking about your job.” Mila watched as George tried not to look worried.

  “My job…”

  “Yes, the one at the accounting firm…”

  Mila could tell by George’s body language that he was very nervous. I wonder if Marco might just be an alter ego and not a different personality; either way, he is a perfect candidate, she thought.

  “Ok. So, this study, what does it entail, and what’s the medication cure?”

  “You would go to my colleague’s office, and he will administer the first dose of the medication which should help you get rid of …”

  “You know who?” George quickly injected.

  “Yes, it will definitely get rid of you know who.”

  “Then I’m in. When can we do this?”

  “How about I schedule you for next Tuesday at 2:00 p.m.?”

  “That sounds good to me. Thank you.”

  Mila and George talked for a while, and then he left. When he was gone, Mila could hardly wait to call Dr. Blackmore back.

  “Hello?”

  “Dr. Blackmore, its Mila Thorton. I might have another candidate for you.”

  “That’s wonderful, when will you be sending them over?”

  “Next Tuesday.”

  “Perfect, I can’t wait; tell me about the patient.”

  “He’s 27 years old, appears to be in good shape, and says there aren’t any illnesses that might enhance his condition.”

  “Why does he see you?”

  “He has multiple personality disorder, or else a very strong alter ego; I haven’t really been able to figure out which one.”

  “Oh, that sounds like a good one.”

  “I thought you’d think so. I actually might have another one for you too, but I’ll have to see her a couple more times to be sure. Thank you for the payment by the way. I’ll speak with you later in the week when I have more details.”

  Mila hung the phone up and jotted down a few notes about George in his file. It was getting late, so Mila packed up her briefcase, locked up, and headed home for the night.

  When Mila opened the door to her apartment, she couldn’t believe her eyes. She had left Smokey alone all day, and he made sure to show her how that made him feel. The apartment was in shambles. Smokey had knocked over several glass trinkets which when they fell off the shelf and hit the tile floor, shattered into a million tiny pieces. There was toilet paper strung around everything like Smokey had taken the end and ran all over the apartment, and several pillows were scratched to death with their cotton innards laying everywhere like a fresh layer of snow.

  “I see you were busy today, Smokey,” she said, as she put down the bag of groceries and picked him up and gave him a big hug. Mila wanted to scream at Smokey for making such a mess, but she knew he wouldn’t care. He was just acting out. she knew the next few weeks would be trying, but Smokey was her only link to her mother now. She hoped things would settle down and Smokey would acclimate to his new home sooner rather than later.

  After eating a little dinner, Mila decided to read more of her mother’s diary. It had been a few days since she last read from

  it; she was still tryi
ng her best to process that information. She was learning so much, but she still had so many questions. Mila wished more than anything that her mother was here to explain, but she wasn’t, and now Mila had to figure things out for herself. She learned that she was adopted, but had no idea who her birth mother was or maybe is.

  I wonder if my birth mother is still alive. Who is she, what’s she like? Maybe if I keep reading, you’ll tell me or at least give me a clue. Why the hell didn’t you tell me I was adopted to begin with, Mama? What else did you keep from me?

  Mila thought for a while about whether or not she even wanted to know who her birth mother was. Krystal had raised her from an infant, so really, wasn’t Krystal, her real mother? She thought about it while she cleaned up Smokey’s mess. Once her apartment was back to normal, Mila poured herself a glass of wine, grabbed her mother’s diary, and sat down in her favorite chair. As Smokey quickly jumped up and snuggled in next to her, she started to read the next entry.

  The entry was dated several months later, Sunday, November 21, 1993…

  I’ve had Mila for almost four months now. She’s so amazing. She’s the joy of my life. I did notice something strange when I took her in for her first checkup with Dr. Miller at the hospital. She mentioned that in her blood work, she found a high amount of Belladonna, a toxic plant that some use for various homeopathic treatments. It’s not native in this area; I wonder how it happened to get in Mila’s blood. I guess this is just another one of those questions that will go unanswered...

  Mila stopped reading. What the hell is Belladonna? She quickly went to her computer and typed it in. It said it was an herb and could be toxic if not used properly, but could be used to control the heart rate and relax muscles, and some doctors also use it to treat a cough or sore throat. So why did her biological mother use it? That was the million-dollar question.

  There were a lot of herbal doctors in the area that touted their special potions to anyone who would try them. Krystal always said that it was better to go to the doctor because you never knew what was in the medicines from the herbal doctors.

  It really bothered Mila that her birth mother would give her something that was possibly toxic; was she trying to kill me, or was I sick when I was born? It was an important question, it showed motive. Oh Mila, so many questions, and you will never know the answers because there’s no one left to tell you.