What Exactly Is Enough

This is a prequel to the other chapters https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/vvegho/ , https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/99luv9/ and https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/kje2k .

Trigger warning for strong language and mental health theme

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Jane picked up her journal and started rereading an entry from almost a year ago to the date.

“Therapists are supposed to be the heroes. The people who save us from our self. Maybe I just pick the wrong ones, just like I pick the wrong men. I am tired of hearing all the clichés these overpriced think-they-know-what-is-in-my-head assholes spew. ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’. ‘Bad things happen to good people’. And the worst one, ‘You are enough.’ What the hell does that shit even mean? How is a story about building a city like Rome remotely relate to a non-Italian Pittsburger? And what does being “enough” even look like? Is it like the old potato chip commercial, you can’t eat just one, so one is not enough? Are 10 enough, a hundred, a thousand?”

Jane looked over her tattered journal at her dog who was sleeping on the couch next to her. His back legs were moving like he was chasing the biggest squirrel ever and his little nose was twitching, leaving a wet spot on the navy blue fabric. She set her journal down on the end table when he started a high pitched half yelp half bark, and gently rubbed his back until he opened one eye and sighed heavily.

“It’s OK, bud. It was just a bad dream. That old squirrel isn’t going to run away and break your heart.” Jane kept rubbing his back and snout until he closed his eyes again, this time breathing peacefully.

Jane shut her journal and looked back at the sleeping pup. “You are much cheaper than therapy,” she whispered to the sleeping dog. “And you don’t spew cliches at me when I am having a bad week. You may clear a room with your shitty smells, but I will take that over a shitty therapy session any day!”

Pondering her words from a year ago, Jane picked up her phone and called her best friend, Annie.

“Can you remind me again why you are going back to school to be a therapist?”

“What happened to, hello?” Annie asked, with a smile in her voice.

“Hello…so can you remind me why the hell you decided to go back to school to be a therapist?” Jane said, half smiling at the noise of Annie’s husband in the background yelling at the dog to get out of the garbage.

“OK, hello isn’t helping. How about some context here?”

“I was just rereading some notes I made last year about how shitty my therapy sessions were with Dr. Wiggle Eyes. That bitch was always wiggling her eyes at me and telling me crap like “I am enough.” Do you really want to blow that smoke up someone’s ass when you counsel them?”

At her raised voice, Jane’s dog opened one eye and stared at her trying to decide if this was a conversation about food, walks, or treats and he should pay attention. Jane absently rubbed his snout and he fell back to sleep.

“What’s going on that you are rereading that crap....Dammit Ari, get dog out of the kitchen…and, why are you getting your self all tizzed up about me going back to school?”

“I am happy you are going back to school, that isn’t what I am tizzed up about, to use your colorful phrase. I am just pissed off that I spent thousands in therapy to hear shit like “I am enough.” What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Look, I have apologized at least 500 times for setting you up with Dr. Andrews. She has been helpful for me, but I get it that she is not for everyone.”

“I am not blaming you, Annie.” Jane sighed loudly, and shifted so the dog’s warm back was against her cold leg. “And I am happy Wiggle Eyes helped you, but I am a year out of my last session and I still am questioning everything.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Oh for G-d’s sake, please don’t try to analyze me…”

“OK, that is not fair, you know I would never do that. I am just trying to figure out why you are calling me at dinner time on Thursday night and how I can help.”

“What I need is to get Matthew to stop renting space in my head. And I need a drink, a hamburger, and a million dollars so I can pay off this house and get Kramer an unlimited number of….” she paused and whispered, “T-R-E-A-T-S” The dogs eyes opened wide and he turned around to stare at Jane. "And a new job, a new car, and a whole new wardrobe."

“Ari…how many times do I have to ask you to get the dog out of the kitchen…if that dog eats onions again and pukes on our new couch, you are going to be the one to clean it up this time….Look, let’s go to the Cage for dinner tomorrow and talk, OK?”

“Are you talking to me or Ari,” Jane asked.

“I am talking to you and yelling at Ari. He’s going to Philly tomorrow and AJ has band, so I have a Friday to myself. Let’s go hash this out over some hash.”

“Hash?”

“Well, they used to have corned beef hash and I am craving it?”

“Oh my G-d. You aren't pregnant again, are you?” Jane shouted, with a panic creeping into her heart that she hadn’t felt in years. The dog’s eyes opened again and again, he turned to look at her. “The last time you craved hash, Ally popped out six months later.”

“No, I am far from pregnant, nope, no way, now how. What would even make you think such a crazy thing?”

“Well, you said ‘crave’ and I was…concerned...wor...thought that maybe…oh forget it. And don’t call me crazy. Wiggle eyes asked me if I thought I was crazy. Is that something a reputable therapist says OUTLOUD to a vulnerable patient?”

“I wasn’t calling YOU crazy, I just said me being pregnant again would be a crazy thing. We can go round and round about Dr. Andrew’s style all night and that is not going to solve anything. Why don’t you go take Kramer for a walk and we can talk tomorrow night over dinner.”

Hearing the word, WALK through the phone, the dog was now standing in front of Jane wiggling his ears and doing tippy tap with his paws waiting for his leash and a trip out into the fresh smells outside the door.

“Fine. I will see you tomorrow, but you better not tell me I am enough.”

Jane put Kramer’s glow in the dark leash on him and they headed out the door. At the end of the sidewalk, she looked up and down the street to decide which way to go. She could do her usual walk by their old apartment or they could go to the park where Kramer could enjoy all the spring smells.

To pay him for being cheaper than therapy, they headed off toward the park.