Johnny & Mary

The click and snap of a ballpoint pen brings Johnny’s attention forward and away from the window.

           "How has today been so far?” The older man asks, hand hovering his papers, ready to write.

           “Did they tell you to ask me first?” Johnny’s voice has a touch of edge to it, “The people planning the end of the world know I’m on to them. They want me gone. I knew I was right when I said I wouldn’t make it through the day.”

           “Those workers have been a concern of yours for a while now. Have they started to reveal themselves to you in a new way besides your seeing them? Perhaps they have reported to you about when your demise is scheduled?”

           Johnny wipes nervous hands on a disheveled shirt and walks a few steps away. The person writing watches to follow his path through the sparse room with his eyes. He notes Johnny’s tense pace and uneasy steps. He also makes reference in his papers to Johnny’s appearance of sunken eyes and tense body posture. It’s the look of someone who hasn’t slept consistently for at least a week.

           “I’m not the only one who feels this way, right? The world enders have alluded to the fact that they tell chosen people. All of those doomsday preppers can’t supposedly exist for nothing,” Johnny says. His body language indicates that his last words are more of a demand more than a question.

           The other man doesn’t answer at first. Another figure from beside their chairs stirs instead. Her head jerks around from Johnny and over the room. There’s little for her to notice but he knows she’s looking for something in particular. The observer watches her in careful silence. He gives her a few moments before speaking, he’s become familiar with her abrasive nature and harsh voice.

           “How many walls Mary?”

           She snaps her body to face him, “Seven today, seven’s a good number. But like I’ve told you before, it’s too many for this room. Johnny’s worries should lessen soon you know. He wears himself out a lot quicker these days. I think it’s that special diet and routine you gave us.”

           The gentleman looks at his notes and clipboard and smiles. I’m very familiar with Johnny’s grandiose worries. And Mary’s sharp dismissive nature of him in them. He makes a quick note.

           TUESDAY, MAY FOURTH: JOHNNY CONTINUES PREOCCUPATION WITH WORLD’S END. MARY STILL NOT SUPPORTIVE OF HIS BELIEFS, DOESN’T ACKNOLWEDGE HER OWN ACTIONS AT THIS TIME.

           He hears Mary sigh then. She’s growing bored. Well, she’s nothing if not consistent in her timing.

           “Of course he’s so erratic, his panics may even revert to that old-fashioned favorite about aliens taking over the world before long,” she says. Her tone is bitter and without a shred of warmth or compassion.

           “All my worries are valid Mary!” Johnny cries out from where he is in the room. “You’ve known me long enough to be care more. I’m trying to protect you and all the rest of this poor planet. I don’t want anyone to die. We all can’t die.”

           He starts to hug his arms at the shoulders and whimper. Mary sighs again. She pulls out a hair pick and begins twisting the bent teeth through the ends of her long, frayed black strands.  She gets a few pulls finished before the man in front of her notices and clears his throat.

           “You know items like that are contraband and prohibited from use. Especially during our meetings,” he says with admonishment.

           She scoffs but still hands the item to him. He feels the worn metal teeth and notices the jagged tears on the handle. Perhaps Mary is more worried than she lets on? Not wanting to validate Johnny in some way? He makes another note before putting the hair pick on the floor under his chair. While doing so, the scent from Mary’s hair hits him. It’s strong enough that despite the faint power, he can identify how little she has been washing or caring for her hygiene in the last week. He debates questioning Mary on her contradictory nature. He wonders why she wanted to sneak in an illegal item if she’s not using it the proper way.

           “He’s still the same overall since last time, as I’m sure you noticed.” Mary’s shrill voice interrupts his thoughts.

           Yes, not a good time to challenge Mary’s hygiene practices.

           “Pardon?”

           “He’s still obsessed with his worries that people will find out what he did to get put in here,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone.

           “I’m sick of your disbelief Mary!” Johnny erupts and they watch as he slams his chair on the floor. He jabs his finger at both of her and the other man, “Will you please explain to her why all the dangers of the world have to be taken seriously? No one is safe!”

           The gentleman watches Mary’s attention inch away and prepare to count again. He blinks and chooses a careful response. They’re reverting to their own individual ways to cope, distancing themselves from each other and the others’ stress.

           “I feel you both have your stressors. You’ve shown that to me in very clear ways today. I would like now to help access your ways to cope—“

           “But he lacks such a sense of proportion on these things!” Mary yells in interruption, her voice screeches like a record pulled from a turntable without removing the needle.

           The two figures start to scream over the other then. Their voices blend into a cacophonous disaster. Their mediator attempts multiple interruptions to bring peace. After his fourth failure, he can’t take it anymore. Before he can stop himself, he hurls his clipboard toward the wall behind them. It crashes, breaking the hard plastic and spilling the notes to the floor. It does not, however, deter their argument.

           “ENOUGH!” He bellows. “We need Robert now. He can help me quiet your petty squabbles. I need to tell him that integration is still not an option yet anyway.”

           In an instant, the voices stop. A calm figure now stands between where they were fighting and sparing. He looks at the white-coated professional with a reddening face. His left foot is still twitching. Both men notice that it is not prominent as the older man observed on him before. Robert begins to speak, his voice is even and not skittish or piercing as the others used earlier.

           “I’m sorry Doctor Mason. They told me today was going to be a more cooperative meeting. They even told me I would be able to take a break and not stress over their interactions. It seems Mary’s good at lying when it comes to having group sessions with herself and Johnny.”

           “It’s okay Robert. I’m glad you’re in more control now than when we first started trying to help you and the others. If I recall right, weren’t there six more arguing people trying to fight for control then?”

           Robert nods, “You’ve been with me a long time. I don’t think I would have survived all of their drama without you. I know for sure I would not have the regular control I have without your help. They have some good points I guess. I sometimes think Johnny may not be out of left field with his ‘it’s the end of the world and we shouldn’t feel fine’ idea. You know?”

           Dr. Mason doesn’t answer. I made a vow to Robert when I started treating his personal crises that I wouldn’t discuss one alter’s thoughts with another unless he or she gave me permission. Not even if the one in control brought the other into it.

           “Anyway, same time next week I guess?” Robert looks over the room and moves his head up and down in a silent count off. He speaks and a slight edge to his voice sneaks in, “Five, six, seven walls.”

           Dr. Mason smiles and shakes Robert’s hand. He notices that Robert does not seem unaware of his last comment on his departure from the room. He doesn’t bring attention to it either. He ensures his patient is out of the room and retrieves his notes from near the wall. He mutters about having to replace another clipboard while adding details of Mary’s last comment to the records.