Two per Day

“Darian Chis”

His eyes skimmed over the next word; it was well beyond his vernacular.

“Take Two per Day, Orally”

The man clutched the bottle of pills and held it closely to his chest. He dressed sharply in a black and white suit; if anybody was asked what the man was doing, they might have replied “travelling to an important business meeting,” or, “pitching a new deal to some corporate executive”. Not too long ago, he might have been doing exactly that.

As a matter of fact, he had just returned from picking up a bottle of pills prescribed by his psychiatrist. He liked Dr. Pasternak, who dressed in a white dress shirt, black dress pants, and white lab coat that accentuated the linearity and symmetry of his attire. Even his name was pleasant. “Pasternak” had nine letters, which was a perfect square, which could be symmetrically broken down into two equal numbers: in this case, three and three.

The vibrating phone in his pocket cut his musings short.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Adrian.” The voice was curt. “I’m driving over right now.” Adrian hung up.

Darian’s body relaxed and he even afforded himself a slight smile. Adrian was his best friend and had been indispensable during the last few months. Nobody was more reassuring than him, even though they lived far away and could only call when Darian needed somebody to speak to.

The taxi arrived at his apartment in the middle of the financial district. He visibly winced when he paid the $21.37 fare, but he quickly hid his grimace and took the elevator to the 36^th floor. He entered his apartment; some would have called it luxurious if not for the spartan furnishing. A square, black dining table sat before the kitchen; he placed the bottle in the center and turned back to prepare supper. Beans and rice, just like his childhood. While cooking, he let his thoughts meander.

A few weeks ago, everything was different. He would arrive home to his beautiful wife cooking a delicious meal.

“How was school today, kiddos?” He would have asked, as he did everyday.

“It was alright, I guess,” would have grunted his eight-year-old son.

“It was great, daddy! Today I got to play with Leah, and she…” would have rambled his lively six-year-old daughter.

The whistling of steam interrupted his thoughts; he put the beans into the pot, set a five-minute timer, and started pacing. He passed the vestibule leading into the apartment where two diplomas sat in their own black, unadorned frames.

It was during Darian’s stint in business school where he met Liam. Liam’s steadfast extraversion and persistent efforts to include Darian eventually won him over. One day early in the semester the pair was conversing as usual when the topic of career choices arose.

“So, Darian, whatdaya wanna do in the future?”

“I don’t know.”

“It looks like everybody here wants to be a management consultant,” said Liam.

Darian’s figure straightened imperceptibly.

Liam continued, “personally, I think being an entrepreneur might be kinda cool.”

“Why do people want to work in consulting?”

“Well, there’s all sorts of reasons, really. The pay’s good, you get to travel the world, there’s power and prestige, there’s a very straightforward path for advancement,”

Darian continued to make eye contact, but he had heard what he needed.

His dexterity in solving problems and instinct for numbers served him well in the consulting firm’s aptitude tests. He struggled a bit with the interviews, but still managed to seize a highly coveted position at a top-ranked consulting firm. In the following years he got married and slowly climbed the ranks. As promised, he was remunerated handsomely, and could finally buy the things he could not afford growing up.

The timer rang. Darian strained the beans and placed them onto a plate. The rice still had a few minutes left, and Darian looked for something to preoccupy his thoughts. There was nothing to do.

It was November 3^rd of last year, and he strode into the 49^th floor of his building, directly to his cubicle.

“Hey Darian, how ya feeling?” asked Greg.

Darian noticed that Greg’s smile looked uncharacteristically forced.

“I’m good.”

He noticed that it was not just Greg; the whole floor had a palpable nervousness to it.

“You excited?”

“For what?”

“Oh come on, there’s no way somebody like you doesn’t know.”

Darian stared vacantly.

“Today’s our performance reports!” exclaimed Greg.

“Oh.” Replied Darian, who ducked into his cubicle to avoid continuing the awkward conversation. He turned on his work computer and read the first e-mail: “Performance Report Meeting, 3:00 PM.” He frowned. I don’t have time for this, he thought to himself.

Right at three o’clock Amy heard a polite knock on her door.

“Come in!”

Darian entered dutifully.

“How are ya?”

“I’m good.”

“So, today we’ll be discussing your performance report for the first quarter of…”

Darian’s mind drifted to the work he had to complete before the day ended, when he noticed that Amy was barely holding back a smile and her speech was accelerating.

“Congratulations! We’re really impressed with your work ethic and results, and we’re super happy to promote you to manager!”

Darian’s eyes zipped into focus, his facial muscles came to attention and he swore his heart beat just a bit faster.

“Your compensation will grow to $200,000…”

Darian’s body loosened again.

“… and you will be moved to the 53^rd floor.”

“Can I stay where I’m at right now?” He blurted out “On my floor, I mean, I’m happy with the promotion I just want to stay on my floor.”

“Why’s that? All the other managers are on the 53^rd floor.” Her eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement.

Darian forcefully relaxed his body and leaned his back on the chair again.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Well, it’s company protocol anyways. Congratulations again!”

Darian took the finished rice from the pot and set it alongside the beans. He sat in his dining table, the pills in his view not two feet in front of him. He ate in silence and tried to suppress the memories. He failed.

One night, Darian returned home at 7:00 PM. The smell of his wife’s cooking was distinctly missing. His typical gait faltered, and he strained his ears to listen for the sounds of his children. Silence. He walked straight to his bedroom, his pace accelerating with his heartbeat. His steely composure started to crack. He flung open the door and was faced with his wife. For once, it was her face that looked emotionless.

“We’re done.”

“N-No. You c-can’t, you can’t do that.”

She ignored him. “You’ve been staying at work all day every day and you never have any time for me,” her voice rose to a screech “or the kids, they ask me during dinner why they don’t see you anymore and what am I supposed to tell them, that I don’t either?” Her voice decrescendoed into sobbing.

“I’ve been telling you for the past couple of months that you’ve been too busy, and every single time you give a half-hearted ‘mhm’ and just go back to work as if I was invisible to you.” She regained her composure.

“We’re done.” She walked calmly past him, but as she got closer to the vestibule her pace increased and she ducked her head away from his view. The clang of the door being thrown shut resonated in his ears for a long time after.

When he came to his senses an hour later, he was at a loss for what to do. He tentatively took out his phone and scrolled listlessly through his contacts until a name caught his attention: Liam Gray. Even now they still caught up over drinks every few months and continue their conversations as if they spoke every day. Hands trembling, he dialed the number.

“Hello?”

“H-hey. It’s me, Darian.”

“What’s up Darian, you don’t sound yourself.”

“M-my wife just left me.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Jeez man, I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t know what to say.”

Darian stayed silent.

“Look man, maybe you should consider going to a therapist? I mean, maybe it’ll help you or maybe it won’t, but I don’t think it’ll hurt to try.”

There was another moment of deafening silence.

“Thanks Liam. I’ll look into it.”

Darian hated the therapist. Cameron’s office was gray and drab, an unpleasant mix of the absolute black and the noble white. His attire matched his office; a putrid beige sweater, it looked formless and amorphous. Darian would endure an hour of interrogation every Wednesday afternoon, each question as shapeless as his surroundings.

“Well, why does this make you upset?”

Shouldn’t it be obvious why I’m upset? He thought to himself.

“Do you think that your childhood may have in some way shape or form affected your decision-making process as it stands today?”

What does that even mean? He thought.

“Have you ever maybe considered not conforming to rules outlined by people, organizations, and society as a whole?”

He propped himself up just a little from the couch he was leaning on and stared through Cameron.

“No.” he replied. “Never.”

The following day Liam called him.

“Hey man, how’d the therapy sesh go?”

“Fine.”

“Aight, I’m glad to hear that, maybe we should meet and catch up some time?”

“Sure.”

Another number was attempting to call Darian.

“I’ll call you back later, Liam.” Darian hung up and accepted the new call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Adrian.”

Darian had a fuzzy memory about Adrian. He was with the same friend group as himself and Liam, but Adrian mostly kept to himself so there were not any especially memorable moments.

“Liam called me earlier and told me what happened. I’ll be checking up on you periodically to make sure that you’re ok” he continued.

Darian smiled. “Thanks Adrian, I appreciate it.”

As the therapy sessions continued Adrian began calling with increased frequency. Darian felt that he could unload all his stresses with Adrian. The two were simply very compatible and he never had to explain why he felt a certain way, Adrian just always understood. Their calls also lengthened in duration; he checked his phone one night and was surprised to see that it had logged four hours of calls that day, half an hour with Liam and the balance with Adrian. Darian smiled. It was invaluable to have a friend as selfless to give so much time out of their busy lives to help him now that he needed it, he reflected.

Darian finished his paltry meal and placed his dishes in the dishwasher. Adrian said that he would arrive at 9:00 PM. He glanced at his wrist: 8:46. He fought the rush of memories, but after a few futile minutes, he succumbed anyway.

It was March 19^th. Darian strode into the 53^rd floor of his building, directly to his cubicle. He turned on his work computer and read his first e-mail: “HR Meeting, 11:00 AM”.

That’s weird, he thought to himself. He checked the paper calendar pinned to his cubicle. There was a circle on February 3^rd; he noted to himself that that was last quarter’s performance review. He flipped the calendar to the month of March and checked for any notable events. Nothing.

Right at 11 o’clock Amy heard a polite knock on her door.

“Come in!”

Darian entered dutifully.

“How are you?” she asked

“I’m good.”

“We’re here to discuss your performance, look, we already mentioned in the last performance review that your, for the lack of a better word, performance, has really been subpar. You’ve been taking two hours off work every day and you’re always on your phone for personal reasons during company time.” She paused for a reply. There was none.

“I’m sorry Darian, I did what I could. You’ve been let go.”

Darian’s heart plummeted to the floor.

“I-I-,” he stuttered. He closed his mouth.

The edges of Amy’s lips curled into a forced smile. “Thank you for your time here. I’m sorry I have to say this, but it’s in protocol: you have twenty-four hours to move out. Your security escort is waiting outside.”

Darian dragged himself out of the room. It took him three hours to pack and vacate the premises.

The first thing Darian did once he got home was call the first person on the “Most Contacted” list.

“Adrian speaking.”

“Adrian it’s me, Darian. I just lost my job.”

“I can get your resume through to HR at my firm”

Darian was uncertain where Adrian worked but he knew it was a high-powered management consultancy like his old employer.

“Thanks Adrian, I appreciate it. And while you’re here, is it alright if I talk for a little longer?”

“Of course, Darian.”

The conversation lasted another two hours. Darian’s muscles relaxed throughout the conversation, and the cacophony of thoughts that was rumbling in his head just earlier subsided. Just before he was about to hang up, Adrian quickly interjected.

“Darian, you need to do something for me.”

“Of course, Adrian, anything.”

“You need to cut Liam off, you’re taking too much time off work calling him which is why you were fired in the first place. Anyways, the two of you are too different, so he’ll never understand you and he’ll never be of much help. He’ll just drag you down. Do yourself a favour and cut him off.”

Darian’s veins turned to ice.

“Darian, you there?”

“Yeah.” A momentary pause. “I’ll do it.”

“Good.”

Darian hung up. He glanced at his phone, his fingers slowly tapping the screen to make a string of numbers that resembled Liam’s.

“Hey, it’s Liam.”

“Hey Liam, it’s Darian. I just lost my job.”

“Aw shucks I’m sorry to hear that, is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’ll be fine. Adrian said he’ll get me into his firm.”

“Adrian?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause.

“Well, good luck with your job hunt! Do you still need to talk?”

This time, the pause was on Darian’s end.

“No. Thanks for everything.”

“Of course man, anything for you buddy.”

Darian hung up.

In the following weeks Darian continued his suffering with the therapist.

“How do you think the loss of your job has affected you?”

Poorly, thought Darian.

“Have you considered seeking alternative venues to vent your emotions?”

What does that even mean, thought Darian.

“Do you have any friends who have or may be willing to help you through these emotional times?”

“Yes,” replied Darian. He paused.

“His name is Adrian.”

At the end of the session, Cameron handed Darian the card of his colleague. It was made of a bright white cardstock, with crisp black lettering on top.

“Dr. Yuri Pasternak, MD – psychiatrist,” it read.

“He’ll be able to help you further,” said Cameron.

The following day Darian visited Dr. Pasternak. His office was a stark contrast to Cameron’s; glaringly white walls reflected the sharp luminescence from above.

“Can you please provide your medical and psychiatric history?”

Darian was forewarned of this by Cameron. He recited a list of previous physical ailments and recounted his conversations with his therapist.

“Has Adrian been making changes to your life?”

The deafening silence in the room became obvious, with only the harsh ticking noise of a clock bouncing off the walls of the room to indicate that time was indeed still passing.

Tik-tok-tik-tok-tik-tok-tik

“No.” said Darian.

Dr. Pasternak’s face was unchanged.

“Here, take these pills starting tonight, two per day after your evening meal every day.”

He wrote a prescription and handed it to Darian.

Once Darian was outside, he immediately called Adrian to discuss his appointment with Dr. Pasternak.

“You need to stop listening to him,” said Adrian, “He’s trying to tear us apart.”

What is he talking about, thought Darian.

Adrian hung up. Darian was left perplexed. He hailed a taxi home.

A methodical knock pulled him from his thoughts. He opened the door. It was Adrian.

“You need to flush those pills down.”

“Why?”

“Stop asking questions, you’ve never asked questions. Just do as I say.”

Before he left Dr. Pasternak’s office, he asked if the medicine would help put his life on track.

“Yes,” he replied, “as long as you strictly follow the instructions on the bottle.”

“Take Two per Day, Orally,” it read.

“What are you waiting for? Are you even listening to me?” The pleas got more frantic.

Ignoring his friend, Darian slowly twisted open the cap, and shook two circular pills into his hand.

“Darian, listen to me. I’m your best friend. I helped you get through this mess. I know what’s best for you.”

Time stopped for a second. Then, in one fluid motion, Darian dropped the pills into his mouth, tilted his head back, and washed them down with a few gulps of water. His head leveled back down. The begging had stopped. He looked around. He could not find Adrian anywhere.

His brain froze for a moment as he tried to process where Adrian had gone. He might have figured it out if only he did not stop himself at the last second. The only thought left was that what remained of his straightforward life had disappeared. He sat back down at his dinner table, his eyes glued to the words on the bottle label.

“Have you ever maybe considered not conforming to rules outlined by people, organizations, and society as a whole?” mocked a familiar voice.

“Take Two per Day, Orally,” read the label.

He reached his fingers into the bottle and pulled out two pills at a time, setting up the pairs in front of him.

“Take Two per Day, Orally,” read the label.

He subconsciously counted the number of pills laid out in front of him and read the label one last time.

“Take Two per Day, Orally”

32 pills, making 16 pairs. A square of a square.

What a beautiful number.