The Curse of 1977 (Book 2)

Chapter 8

"Fact number seven. Prehistoric stone monuments called dolmens have been found over the graves of the dead in northwest Europe. Anthropologists speculate they've been placed at the graves to keep vampires from rising." The middle-aged, stringy Floyd enthusiastically read from his trusty flipbook as he paced back and forth across the floor in front Jeremiah and his desk.

All Jeremiah could do whenever Floyd wasn't looking in his direction was lean back in his leather seat and roll his eyes in agony as the man recited "so called" facts about something he wished to God he had never even brought up to begin with in their session together.

"Fact number eight, Vlad the Impaler was thought to be the inspiration for who we all know to be "Dracula."

"Ok, Floyd, let's take a break, and—

"No, no, you have to hear this." Floyd urgently pleaded. "This is where it gets really good!"

Jeremiah gritted his teeth and sat back once again before gripping his chair's arms and bearing down as hard as possible.

"Fact number nine, "The Count", you know, from Sesame Street, is believed to be—

"Ok, Floyd, I think our hour is up now." Jeremiah desperately shot up from his seat and from behind his desk.

Appearing completely confused, Floyd folded his book and said, "But you didn't hear the next fact, doc."

Patting Floyd on the back, Jeremiah replied, "It's not necessary. What you have to know is that your progress is coming along just fine."

"Really," Floyd looked up at Jeremiah with stars in his eyes. "But just last month you said that I may need to spend another two months in Ashlandview just for observation."

Jeremiah stood and just looked at Floyd's balding head. From a professional standpoint, there were so many things Jeremiah needed to say to the pitiful man, but subconsciously, he hadn't the desire to even make one point at that juncture. If the man had remained inside his office another minute he would have been tempted to toss him out the window that was only five feet away from where they were standing.

Clearing his throat, Jeremiah said, "I know what I said. Look, just go home and try to forget all about the vampire lore. I mean, even if vampires did exist, who's to say that they would ever visit Cypress?"

"So you're saying that it's possible they could come here?" Floyd's eyes lit up.

"I'm saying that your life is so much more important than some ancient European myth. Go home to your wife, make love to her and I'll see you next week."

Giggling, Floyd packed up his book as well as his Cincinnati Reds ball cap before saying, "I've never heard a psychiatrist tell anyone to make love to his wife."

"Believe me, it'll work." Jeremiah began shoving the man towards the door. "And put down the vampire books. Remember, you live in the real world."

Shrugging his shoulders, Floyd replied, "Whatever you say, doc."

As Floyd walked out of the office and down the hallway, Jeremiah caught sight of Gloria Cohen who just happened to be coming out of one of his colleague's offices at the same time.

Both her and Floyd passed each other, while all Jeremiah could do was stand at his own door and take ever so quaint glances at the young woman who herself appeared embarrassed to even be seen.

Jeremiah continued to stand and watch as Gloria stood and waited by the elevator. He knew that staring at her was unbelievably rude and uncomfortable, but the man just couldn't seem to take his eyes off of her until she eventually entered the elevator and out of his sight.

Just before he could turn into his office, his colleague from down the hall waved at Jeremiah for him to come and join him.

Truth be told, the last thing Jeremiah wanted at that point in the day was more company, but he sighed and reluctantly ventured down just three doors where he met his friend Paul who just happened to be grinning like an imp.

"Did Julie give you my message?" Paul asked. "I called at least three times last night."

Despondently shaking his head, Jeremiah replied, "Uh, no, I was doing something else last night."

Paul led Jeremiah into his office before shutting the door and racing back to his sofa. Jeremiah was leery of the man's erratic behavior, but also curious at the same time. There was something enticing racing through Paul's veins, and Jeremiah, despite his unenthusiastic demeanor, wanted to get down to the bottom of it before five p.m. arrived.

Jeremiah sat himself down on the plush sofa next to Paul and asked, "Okay, what's got you so happy that you look like you just won an Oscar?"

Unloosening his brown tie, Paul sat back, spread his arms wide behind him and sighed, "Last night, I finally did it."

"Did what?" Jeremiah shrugged his shoulders.

"I finally got Deborah Lundgren in the sheets last night." He smiled like a fool.

Appearing as if his friend's news went into one ear and clear out the other, Jeremiah squinted, "Deborah Lundgren?"

Paul sat up astonished. "Professor Lundgren!" He said as if Jeremiah should have known all along. "The same hard ass professor that said you and I were both too young to be in our profession? I sealed the deal with her last night!"

Giving a nonchalant grin, Jeremiah handed the man a tedious clap before sitting back on the sofa and relaxing his once anxious body.

"You can't be serious." Paul tossed up his hands. "Lundgren may be a hard ass, but at forty-eight, the woman has to have the best looking body on that campus. You see what happens when you make it?" He slapped Jeremiah on the chest. "Who ever imagined two menschs like you and I would be at the very top of our game this early in our careers?"

Jeremiah sat and studied Paul with two of the most lazy eyes he could give the man. "You must be very proud." He continued to frown.

Paul only laughed before saying, "You gotta be kidding me. You and I both wanted to nail that bitch from day one, but you're the one that did the dirty and got hitched. If you ask me, I think I see a green- eyed Grinch before me."

Jeremiah only turned his face and put his hands across his mouth. He wasn't emotional, just drained of anything that would cause him to care. Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

"Ok, I give, what's going on with you?" Paul sat up and asked.

Jeremiah took his hands off of his mouth before turning his head forward. "Do you realize that I just spent an entire hour listening to a fifty-six year old man go on and on about vampire lore?"

"Ok, what's so upsetting about that?"

"And after that, I get my best friend telling me that he just had a one night stand with a professor from the university."

"Hold on, I highly doubt this is about me or your patient." Paul drew closer to Jeremiah. "What's really happening here?"

Jeremiah hesitated for the longest time before he dropped backwards on the sofa. "Julie kicked me out of the house last night." He sighed.

Paul sat and stared thoughtfully at Jeremiah before he inquired, "Oh, would it have anything to do with —

"Yeah, that's exactly it." Jeremiah quickly halted the man.

"Well, you said yourself she was hard to resist. I mean, she's been living there since February. What did Julie expect?"

"She expected me to keep my damn hands off of her sister." Jeremiah grunted.

"C'mon, Jeri, I've seen Justine, the woman is a knockout. You've got the rest of your life to get it right. This is only a blip on the radar."

Jeremiah only glanced at Paul as if he had lost his mind before he slumped even deeper into the sofa.

"Why do you look at me like that? You've been acting weird all these months only because you've been trying to conceal the fact that you've been sleeping with your sister-in-law."

"It's not so much that, Paul."

"Then what else is it?"

Just then, the urge to blurt out the first thing that came to his mind became so intense, but he held his wrath down under lock and chain for a while more.

"Do your parents know?"

Chuckling from the stomach, Jeremiah replied, "Yeah right, if they find out then they'll make sure to tell the family all the way over in Utica."

"Well, do you need a place to stay?"

"No, I'm at the Holiday Inn down on Meads. I'll be fine."

"You look like you haven't slept in days." Paul turned up his nose. "To tell you the God's honest truth, you look like shit."

Jeremiah just blushed while trying to divert his thoughts to another subject that wouldn't offend him so much. Paul, however, just sat and continued to stare on and on methodically at the man before asking, "Did you happen to catch All in the Family last night?"

Jeremiah abruptly caught himself just then like he were about to be hit by a car. "Uh...no, I totally missed it." He sarcastically cracked a grin.

"Right now they're showing their summer reruns, but anyways, Archie's best friend, Stretch Cunningham, dies. So, Archie and Edith go to the guy's funeral where they both end up finding out that Stretch was a Jew all along."

Jeremiah just sat and listened to his friend's story that he hoped and prayed would by some holy miracle wind up making sense to him.

"So Archie, being Archie, not only gives the guy's eulogy, but of course fumbles and stumbles through it like the buffoon that he is."

Suddenly, Paul stopped speaking. Jeremiah sat and waited for the man to continue to talk. "So...what else," Jeremiah widened his eyes.

Paul leaned forward and peered into Jeremiah's eyes. "Tell your parents what happened between you and Julie." He slowly whispered into the man's face, sounding as if his words were wise and genuine.

Jeremiah just shook his head; it was all he could do without getting up and storming out of the man's office.

With a sigh, Jeremiah said, "I can't believe I'm sitting here listening to a shrink talk about an episode of a TV show I can't stand to watch."

"Ok then, big shot, just what the hell is supposed to be wrong with you anyways?" Paul flippantly probed. "Look at you," he pointed, "you're tie is falling apart, your shoes are untied, you've even missed shaving. You look like you just walked off of skid row."

Jeremiah sat up and dropped his head. "I just got done telling a guy to go home and make love to his wife. Mind you, this same guy beat up his wife just a year ago because he thought she was a vampire. And now...Julie," he lamented.

For just a few moments, both men just sat and listened to the air-conditioner come to life from the other end of the office.

"I, uh, I don't know what else to say to that effect." Paul remarked in a somber tone.

Jeremiah happened to look over at the man. "How are things with Gloria?"

Paul glanced back at the man with a humorous appearance on his face before saying, "Confidentially, my friend."

Jeremiah watched as Paul got up from off the sofa and went back over to his desk. "I sat here and told you about Floyd."

"I can't help it that you're a blabbermouth."

"It's just that...ever since she was sent to Ashlandview, she seems to be a new person."

"Gloria wasn't sent to that place, she placed herself there voluntarily." Paul remarked as he went into his desk and pulled out a bottle of alcohol. "You remember all that she went through in that pervert's house. You ask about her every time you see her."

"Have you two discussed what took place—

"Forget about her, Jeri." Paul cut right in. "Come over here."

Jeremiah reluctantly got up and ventured over to Paul's desk where Paul proceeded to take two shot glasses and place them both onto the desk.

"Are you seriously drinking bourbon at this time of the day?" Jeremiah looked halfway amazed. "It's not even five yet."

Appearing dumbfounded by the man's comment, Paul said, "Jeri, you're a shrink, if you're not taking at least five shots of this stuff a day then you're only one day away from taking a self-imposed nose dive into Lake Logan."

Jeremiah stood and watched as Paul poured the drink into the glasses before he handed Jeremiah his own glass. Jeremiah took the bourbon down with relative ease, not allowing its sting to startle him.

"Maybe I'm just feeling bad for myself." Jeremiah sat his glass down onto the desk. "This is all I need at a time like this."

"What else is going on?" Paul drank on his second glass.

Jeremiah turned around and began strolling about the office. "Has Bernice been around yet?"

"You know she doesn't start up until after we leave."

Jeremiah then turned back to Paul and asked, "Has she been behaving differently as of late?"

Chuckling, Paul replied, "The lady is seventy-one years old. She's as batty as Bruce Wayne. I wouldn't be surprised if she's in here every evening taking nips of this stuff while cleaning." Paul held up his bottle of bourbon before he began rummaging underneath his desk. "Why do you ask? Is something missing from your office?"

Jeremiah thought for a second and said, "No...she just unearthed something I thought was gone a long time ago."

Coming up from under the desk with a medium brown box in hand, Paul responded, "That's why you need to get a safe, my friend; saves you from mishaps like crazy old cleaning ladies."

Jeremiah looked at the box that Paul was holding in odd curiosity. "What's that?" He pointed.

"Tapes," Paul simply answered. "Don't you record all of your sessions?"

Twisting his lips, Jeremiah said, "There are some things I'd rather not recall."

"Well, if there's one thing I learned from Sanyupta, it was to always keep a record of your patient's sayings, lest they come back and sue."

"At first I thought we were in the Watergate hotel." Jeremiah quipped.

"There's that wise ass I remember." Paul laughed. "Listen, let me go and put these in the record room and we'll go and get some drinks down at Billy's."

"What, you're not sloshed yet?" Jeremiah looked surprised.

"Are you kidding? It's not even 4:40 yet."

Shaking his head in humble agreement, Jeremiah replied, "Okay, I'll meet you in the lot in fifteen. I gotta make a quick call." He said as he exited Paul's office and carried himself back down to his own.

Once he shut the door, Jeremiah immediately raced over to his desk, sat down in his chair and picked up the phone. He didn't want to just sit there and stare at the phone, Jeremiah wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. He knew that had he sat for a long period of time that the words he was going to say would have been forgotten in the blink of an eye.

Jeremiah swiped up the phone, dialed and waited fervently for the rings. When the answering machine picked up instead, he quickly swallowed and said the first thing that came to mind.

"Hey, this is me. Just calling to see how you were doing. I know I've said it a hundred times before, but I'm saying it again...I'm so sorry. I can't say it enough. I don't know what got into me. And no, I'm not using my psycho-babble on you either. I just want us to sit down and talk this out. No parents, no Justine, just you and I. I won't come home until we have this talk. I'm here at the office, and I'm staying at the Holiday Inn on Meads Road. Take care...and I love you."

At that, Jeremiah hung up the phone and sulked. Just like in Paul's office, the air-conditioner was running full blast inside his own. It was such an annoying racket that at any other time he would have to cut it off in order to hear himself think, but thinking only hurt his head all the more.

Jeremiah pulled open the drawer from within his desk and rooted around for his car keys. As he searched and looked his hand caught something, something that he himself had managed to push all the way to the very back of the desk.

Ever so hesitantly, the man took hold of the object before slowly pulling it out of the dark recesses of the drawer. It was a white crayon that his hand had somehow managed to grab hold of.

It was the very last thing that Jeremiah ever expected to come into contact with. The man just sat and stared forever at the thing while his entire body remained completely numb.

Unbeknownst to him, his car keys were already seated on the desk in front of him. But there was he and a single Crayola crayon that he wished the cleaning lady had never discovered to begin with.