The Quiet of Compazine

“Ms. Davidson? Have you been…crying?” Dr. Coleman asked uncertainly.

I stared at the ceiling. “Have you read Jane Eyre?”

“Oh, yes, of course. Lovely, but sad book…why do you ask?”

“I just watched the movie. It was so fucking sad,” I choked out, self consciously covering my watery eyes with one hand. “I mean, the book was better. The book is always better. I just, the movie just got me…” I babbled as Dr. Coleman nodded and wrote in her notepad. It got me because I could totally relate to Jane, in regards to her love life.

She loved an older man that she couldn’t be with and nearly married her own cousin. I liked John a fucking lot, but who was I going to homecoming with? Pat and Garrett, my best and only friends in school. They asked me as a friendly gesture, but now I had to go find a dress. Ugh.

“Why does it make you sad, Ms. Davidson?”

“…Because Jane gets her man, and I never will.”

“You’re in love with an older man?”

“Can we say ‘in like’? Love is a strong word.”

“Alright, so…you’re in like with another man?”

“Can we say ‘young man’? He’s actually not that old, and saying ‘older man’ makes him sound like a pedophile, but he’s only twenty one…”

“Very well…this young man you are in like with – does your father know of him?”

“Nope. Dad doesn’t know anything about me, other than the act that I’m not going to college – I’m going straight to work. That’s all that’s important to him, anyways. To him, love does not exist. I think he thinks that if he can survive without a significant other, so can I.”

Dr. Coleman was furiously scribbling at her notepad now. “Tell me about your mother, Ms. Davidson.”

I scowled at the thought of her. “Only if you call me Porter from now on.”

“Oh, dear me, yes, of course, Porter. So, your mother…”

“…Actually, I’d rather not talk about her. Thank you.”

“Then let’s talk about your father some more, shall we?”

I had to sit up and stare when she said that. “You really want to open up that can of worms?”

Dr. Coleman arched an eyebrow. “Why is it a can of worms?”

I opened and closed my mouth several times in my indecision, but I ended up not saying anything. “You know what, I don’t quite trust you. I don’t want to tell you anything anymore. You’re going to turn around and tell my dad everything I’ve ever said, aren’t you?” I sneered, narrowing my eyes at her.

“You don’t trust anyone, do you?” Dr. Coleman asked as she adjusted her glasses.

I smirked. “When did you figure that out?”

But even as I answered, I knew there was one person I would trust if given the chance – John. Pat and Garrett, too, I guess. Funny how I don’t think my father is trustworthy. Friends over family.

“Can you tell me why that is?” Dr. Coleman asked as her alarm went off, signaling that out session was over. I hopped off the couch and left as quickly as I could. Dad started making me come here by myself, but when I skipped, he got mad at me. Dr. Coleman would let him know if I came or not.

I was glad to be gone, but then that meant I had to go dress shopping. I had no idea how or where to shop for a homecoming dress, but I didn’t want to blow off Pat and Garrett, so I drove down to the Tempe Town Center.

I was in some bridal store trying on the short dresses when a knock on the window startled me. And who would it be but John knocking on the window and waving and grinning at me?

I swallowed hard and reluctantly waved back, especially since he was with Jared and two girls, obviously on a double date. But John motioned for Jared and the girls to go on without him as he stepped inside the bridal store, walking straight towards me. “Hey, girl! Whatcha doin’?” he asked, casually draping an arm over my shoulders.

I was currently in a simple gray dress at the moment. “Um, dress shopping for homecoming…”

John frowned, rooting through the dresses on the rack nearest to us. “Porter, it’s homecoming. Wear something colorful! What’s your favorite color?” he asked, dragging me along to one of the dress racks.

“Well…I like blue, and green, and gray, and purple…cool colors, you know…”

John nodded before looking through dresses of those colors. “Have you been to homecoming before, Porter?”

“No. Neither the games nor the dances.”

John stared at me incredulously. “And why the fuck not?”

“I don’t care much for football…and no one ever asked me to the dance until this year, so…”

“Who asked you?” John asked, turning his back to me as he looked at dresses again.

“Um, Pat and Garrett and I are going together.”

“Porter, you don’t have to be asked to homecoming to go to homecoming! You never made plans with your girlfriends or something?”

“Never really had any,” I admitted bluntly.

John pouted, but then started going through dresses that were very warm colored. “I don’t like those,” I muttered, frowning at the red number John was holding up to my body.

“You don’t want to go to homecoming, either,” John reiterated. “So, two negatives make a positive. That’s some seventh grade math, Porter,” John teased, throwing dresses over my shoulder. “What size are you, girl?”

“Four.”

John arched an eyebrow. “Maybe we should get you a five or six… You know, for when we eat dinner. I mean, for when you eat dinner with Pat and Garrett,” John quickly corrected himself, laughing nervously. “Go try those dresses on, Porter.”

“Shouldn’t you go? I think I'm keeping you from your double date…”

“Try them on,” John simply insisted, pushing me towards the fitting rooms. I ended up modeling dresses for John for over half an hour. He more or less made me his mannequin, but I couldn’t resist the look he gave me when I wore something he liked, even if I didn’t really like it myself. “Porter, this is the dress.”

“But it’s white…”

John grabbed my shoulders and pulled me in front of the mirror. “It’s perfect,” he said firmly, and he was absolutely beaming at me, so of course I brought the dress to the cash register…and that was about as far as it got.

“That’ll be a hundred fifteen,” the sales woman said after ringing me up. John whipped out his wallet without any hesitation.

“John. John, no. John!” I protested, but he threw his bony hips into mine, pushing me out of the way so he could pay for my dress. “John, I feel really uncomfortable about you buying my dress…”

“What are besties for, Porter?” John said with a smile as he handed me the bag that the dress was in. “Remember, I bought your dress, so I’d better see some pictures of you guys, alright? Now, how about we grab some Coldstone?”

Besties, huh? Well. I can’t argue with John. No matter how much I don’t like the term.