Vince's hand moved away and his voice soured a bit. "Well, what are you supposed to do when some stranger snuck into your house and he's trying to unlock your safes? What are you supposed to do when some heartless freak tries to murder you? You protect your property and you protect yourself. That's what you do, and if that means I kill someone, then it's not my fault. We live in a country with a long history of supporting self-defense, and even if I didn't live here, you can bet your ass I'd shoot to kill whenever I need to."
Arthur couldn't think of a rebuttal.
"I guess ... and I know this doesn't make sense to you, Artie, but it makes sense to me ... I guess I just wanted to show you you're safe because you're with me, because I know what you're up to, and because I know when someone tries to hurt you. But I really fucked you up, right?" That last statement had a youthful, miserable, and rocky feeling in it.
"Just ... just ..." Arthur sniffed down something thick and forced it down his throat. He looked up at the kitchen appliances with painful eyes. "Don't involve me in crazy stuff like that! I don't want to worry about you spying on my emails and stuff! And I don't want to see you kill anyone!"
"Oh come on, you're not cheating on me or anything, and it's not like I think your shopping history and emails to your parents are interesting. It's just my way of making sure nobody's trying to hurt you, or trying to use you to get close to me. Besides, reminding myself of how boring you are is the most comforting thing in the world."
Arthur put his head back on his arms, his eyes shut. "Oh god. I'm too boring to be a threat to you."
"Kind of." Vince was getting back some of his cheer. "You have nothing and you want nothing."
"Arrrgggghhhhhh!!" Arthur wanted to start crying again, but he was too tired to do so.
Vince ruffled Arthur's hair. "But I'll try to keep you out of the nastiest bits of my life, okay? You're such a nice person. You shouldn't have to worry about stuff like that."
"Fine." Arthur pushed his head up and took a tight inhale. "Truce. We have a truce."
***
Green Parrot Wellness Center was actually not far away from the Pomegranate Valley Medical Center. In fact, Arthur wondered if the mental health clinic was an off-shoot of the hospital. Arthur expected Vince to drop him off, but nope. Vince stayed with him. He said he moved a meeting to another day to make sure nothing bad happened while Arthur was out and about. Goodness, if it was permissible, Vince would've gone with him to the counseling session.
When Arthur's name was called, and he got up, he looked back at Vince. That weird rich guy looked ridiculously content in the waiting room, reading a novel he brought and listening to music with his phone. He didn't care about giving up his time to be there, doing nothing important.
The psychiatrist was a fairly short man with a balding head and an earnest smile. Dr. Thomas Kipper. The room the session took place in was oddly cozy, like a room in a nice house. They sat in pretty, relaxing armchairs and spoke to each other very affably. Well, actually, the doctor didn't sit down right away. He did some ordinary checkup tasks, checking Arthur's lungs, ears and eyes, looking at his tongue and throat, and asking some basic health questions. According to Dr. Kipper, Arthur seemed physically healthy with no need to perform any more intensive tests.
Dr. Kipper then sat down on his armchair and pretty much had a conversation with Arthur, or rather, he asked a lot of personal questions and listened while taking notes on a laptop and occasionally an old fashioned notepad. What are your parents like? What was your childhood like? So, you're homosexual? How did your family react? You're married now, right? How's that going for you?
Certainly, Arthur knew better than to say his husband was filthy rich and occasionally did questionable stuff. He just went with the "owns a gun shop and a cute little house" lie.
Then came the questions about the loss of memory. What was happening before your memory cut off the first time this happened? Oh? You used to be in an abusive relationship? I wish you'd told me that earlier. Okay, so what about the second time this happened? What was going on then?
Arthur didn't want to give a reason for why he'd suddenly wanted to leave. He came up with a thin excuse about Vince looking through his phone like some less than talented people might do. He couldn't tell if Dr. Kipper bought that or not, but the issue wasn't pressed.
Close to the end of the session, Dr. Kipper told Arthur, "I can't guarantee that I'll stop this from happening again, but I can promise that I'll try to help you. I think I need least another meeting with you to get a better idea of what's going on."
"Can't you at least get me some pills or something?" Arthur asked.
"I'm afraid of doing that right now," the doctor explained. "Improper medication can kill you. Maybe next time."
Back in the waiting room, Vince was still there, reading. When he looked up at Arthur, he smiled and closed his book. "Alright, let's go eat. Want some sushi?"
The men went out to eat then. It wasn't a buffet. It was a place where you sit down and have to wait to be served. The food was nice, more than just sushi, but sushi was what they mostly had. Even though most of the sushi was what some would call high quality, Arthur's favorite had strips of imitation crab. It was cold and sweet, with just the right texture. He didn't know why, but eating the imitation crab consoled his heart. He even told Vince he'd love to eat packs of imitation crab at home.
Arthur should've known better at that point.
After their meal, Vince had the limo take them to a grocery store, earning raised eyebrows from the people in the parking lot. Then, not giving any of the shocked people his attention, Vince took Arthur's hand and went into the store.
Vince was the one to take a shopping cart, and he was the one who grabbed all the products, including an ungodly amount of imitation crab packages. He pretty much got seventy-five percent, roughly, of the imitation crab available for customers to get on their own. He'd said he was tempted to buy it all, but he didn't want to be unfair to the other shoppers. Although, he did ask an employee if there were any more in "the back." The employee seemed to decide Vince was insane just by looking in the cart, and he gently said he wasn't certain.
Thanking humanity for the invention of freezers, Arthur was munching on strips on the way back home. Imitation crab had a good deal of salt, but he promised Vince he'd drink extra water and be more careful in general.
For the next week, even with his treats, Arthur had difficulty falling asleep. He was afraid that when he woke up he'd loose all progress. When Vince first figured out Arthur was losing sleep, he said, "That's it, you're sleeping in my room."
That only helped a little. Arthur was so tired, and even though he didn't have any more memory erasing fits, he did lose track of time. He couldn't be bothered with what day of the week it was. His cell phone and PC's calendar weren't consulted. He filled his time with distractions, worry, and more distractions. Sometimes he started crying for no reason, or at least no reason he could properly articulate. If Vince was around, and there were times when he wasn't, he'd hug Arthur and tell him it would be fine. Don't freak out. Don't have another episode. That just might be the trigger. You never know.
You never know ...
Vince even told him to start leaving records. Take notes of things that happened, things you don't want to forget, even the smallest things. Post-it Notes, a blank journal, even a digital journal on his PC with copies on two different USB sticks. "The doctor might think this is a good idea," Vince had said. "So next time you see him, tell him all about it."
Dr. Kipper was probably already planning on telling Arthur to do something similar anyway.
Arthur found out he certainly did have that planned on their next session. Dr. Kipper even said he had at least one diagnosis ready, panic disorder. Then he prescribed some medication, two different drugs.
The first one was for his memory. The second one was for anxiety. He didn't know how to pronounce the first drug's name. It started with an X and came in tablets. Arthur had to take it with liquid and right after eating a full meal. The second drug was similar, and with an equally difficult to pronounce name, but it came in a lower dosage. The drugs weren't sent to a Walmart or similar location. They were sent to a Mom and Pop kind of pharmacy. The building was almost too cute to look at, old fashioned and with plenty of character.
Arthur called his Mama one morning, and they caught up. Then Arthur unloaded the heavy truth. He had a panic disorder, and some mild amnesia symptoms to go with it. Naturally, Mama went into a cursing fit that was a mix of consternation and woe, switching from whining to Arthur and whining to Daddy. How dare the world be so cruel to her sweet baby?! He was such a smart, likable fellow, and he'd been such a good kid! Why did this have to happen?!
"It's okay, Mama. It's okay. I got some counseling and meds. I'll probably be fine. It's not like I'm hearing voices or anything."
"Well ... has Vince been taking good care of you?"
Arthur shrugged. "When I have an appointment with the doctor, Vince makes sure his schedule's free so he can drive me there, and he stays in the waiting room the whole time. He doesn't care about losing time. He always says he can't stand the thought of me going out alone. He's even thinking of getting me a service dog, but I don't think I can get one. Those dogs are only for people with disabilities, and the doctor doesn't think this is bad enough to be a disability."
