Chapter 10

                                    

                                          
Song: Carla Bruni – Le Ciel Dans Une Chambre
                          
It's a new day, I'm armed with a shiny new state of mind. It's fresh from it's box and has that new car smell I love. I'm walking with my head up, rather than studying my socks like they hold the keys to happiness, and the answer to my longest asked question: Where did my Beagle, Ariel, go? 
                          
I feel like I can float up to the clouds, make them into any shape I please as I bask in  the sunlight while it thaws me. Warms me and turns me to gold; my once-grey eyes glow with the sun's warm, amber light. My breath comes in glittery puffs, scattering on the Earth below like stars, galaxies and nebula falling from the heavens. 
                          
Rather than become air-born, I've decided it's time for me to return to school. Of course, before I get that ball rolling, I need a thumbs up from my shrink. He needs to make sure I can handle the added stress school would present...or something like that. I wasn't paying attention. The last time I had seen his beard - and the face it keeps as a pet - it was the day after I was discharged from the hospital. He still spoke to me like I was a two year-old coming down off a tantrum. Like I'd bust open again any moment. Throw myself out his window into the street below it. Pancaking myself on unsuspecting passersby. 
                          
I've come to realize that doctors and shrinks don't seem to give me enough credit. I mean, I'm still alive aren't i? Believe me, if I wanted to try again, I would. But I don't want to give Mother another reason to fall back on the juice. 
                          
I look though my room, trying to find the appointment card with The Beard's number on it, so I can schedule an appointment. I know I have in here, somewhere. It's in one of my pairs of pants, I just have to dig up the right one...
                          
My room is still trashed from my anxiety attack, I haven't gotten around to cleaning it yet, but I will soon. I'm running out of clean clothes and I have to do laundry soon. 
                          
After searching for about 500 years, I give up and set my sights on Mother's address book. I know the number's in there. I saw her write it down. I scramble out of my room, falling into the hallway. When I get to her room, I can hea her snoring - still knocked out from last night. I don't bother trying to be sneaky about walking in and rooting around in her purse; even if she did come out of her coma the worst she could do was slur and spit at me. It's not like she'd remember seeing me in here when she finally comes to. 
                          
I look through her bag, ignoring the checkbook, her wallet, and various make-up-related things -oh, green apple gum. Gimme - I find it. I crack open the tiny book and find it listed under 'B' [for Beard, obviously] and go to the kitchen to make the call. 
                          
It's only when I have the phone in my hand, and the phone rings do I remember how much phones fucking scare me. Ice water shoots through my veins, the floor turns to quicksand, sucking me down slowly. To get free, all I have to do is hang up the phone. Before I have chance to slam the infernal thing on it's cradle, a voice perks up "Dr. Bernard's office, how may I help you?"
                          
My tongue goes scampering down my throat, trynig to stop a disaster from accouring. I swallow, forcing it, whimpering and sobbing back to it's place and command it to make words.