A Tragic Kind of Wonderful

My voice is getting quiet but I keep going. If this time goes bad like the others, I don’t want it to be my fault because I half-assed it.

“My animals have minds of their own. They go up and down separately. When they’re all down at the same time, I’m depressed. When they’re all up together, I’m manic. Other times I’m Mixed. Like when the Hanniganimal is Down but my Hamster and Hummingbird are Running and Flying, I feel a dark, gloomy, anxious kind of manic energy.”

“Dysphoric mania,” Dr. Oswald says.

“Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I record everything a few times a day to make these graphs, or more often if I’m cycling rapidly enough. Seeing everything separated out helps me keep it together.”

Dr. Oswald examines my charts, pressing her palm down on the creases.

“Everything starts with H …” she says. “Head Hamster, Heart Hummingbird, Health Hammerhead, Hannigan the Host …” She looks up. “The Hanniganimal.”

She’s trying to hide her expression, the way Dr. Jordan relaxes his face to not show judgment, except she’s not quite succeeding. My alarms aren’t going off, though. I try to keep my paranoia from revving up.

“Is that why you chose a Hammerhead for Health? Because it starts with H? All your other animals seem to more closely match what they represent.”

“Oh …” I wince. “Not exactly. My Hammerhead is how good my body feels, not just whether I’ve caught a cold or something. Look back a couple weeks, where my Hammerhead was Slogging? I wasn’t actually sick. Those days with the red asterisks?”

Her eyes widen.

“Yeah. Shark Week.”

Her hand flies to her mouth.

Is she …?

“Are you laughing?”

She looks at me. Her eyes are reflecting more light. Not sparkling, just shinier.

“No, Mel. I’m not laughing. These charts, they’re very special.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“No, I mean it. This is wonderful. Truly. Thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome? For what? It’s not a Mother’s Day card.”

“I understand this was difficult for you to share. I’m very glad you did. It’s remarkable. And it’s something we can really talk about. When we’re not talking about the weather.”

I relax and sit back.

“Dr. Jordan sounds like a smart guy,” she says. “If you’re keeping your diagnosis secret, how did you come to tell him?”

“He told me. Well, he told Grandma Cece, then she told my mom. It’s in the family—my aunt Joan and my brother—and he said it was a dead giveaway when I talked to him for twenty minutes in one long rambling sentence.”

“Pressured speech.”

“Yeah. There are boring names for everything.”

“There certainly are. These charts are much more interesting.”

“Do they help you? So you can tell me … I don’t know … how to get better?”

“Is that what you’ve been waiting for? For me to tell you what to do?”

Not exactly. I was mostly trying to run out the clock. But now …

“I only need prescription refills every month or two. Why else do I need to come every week?”

“To give you a safe place to talk.” She waves at her diplomas. “I went to school to study how to prescribe medication, but also to learn good questions to ask, questions you might not think to ask yourself. But only you can answer them.”

I slump. “Why can’t you be like psychiatrists in the movies? You know, confront me with truths I don’t want to face, explain the hidden root of my problems, tell me how to fix everything if I were brave enough?”

“I thought you didn’t like Dr. Fletcher’s approach.”

“Oh, when you put it that way …”

“Do you wish your life were like a movie?”

“Only if it’s a good movie. Doesn’t everyone?”

“What you think is all that matters here. What do you want?”

I think a moment. “Maybe a nice musical.”

Dr. Oswald smiles.

Something else occurs to me. “Actually, I want to tell Dr. Jordan to invite you over for poker night.”

Dr. Oswald laughs. “I have a bad poker face?”

I grin. Comfortable for the first time in any doctor’s office.

Except now I’m worried about what I might tell her next week.

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It’s Saturday and Annie’s up in Napa Valley with her family. I want to hang out with Zumi and Connor but I’ve never called them directly before. In the few weeks since we met, Annie’s been the center of everything. I hope that’s not part of the deal. She’s not standoffish exactly … well, sometimes … but it often seems like she wishes she were with other people. I mostly just don’t want Zumi to think I only want to be friends with Annie, not when it’s really Zumi and Connor I like, but I can’t bring myself to pick up the phone—

Zumi texts me:

Awake?

I exhale.

Yep. You? Ha ha.

Can I come over?