“A song.”
Dr. Chandler nods, her eyes downward while she takes notes. “It’s not uncommon for there to be particular triggers that can lead to incidents like panic attacks. Some might be stronger than others, ones that cause a full-blown event like it sounds you experienced the other night. Others might have less of an impact, but equally important because they still impact your overall mental health. What I’m here to do is work with you to help identify these triggers, and build behaviors that help change the way they impact you.”
“That would be nice. It’d also be nice to not have these nightmares anymore.”
She adjusts her glasses, moving a bit closer to the camera. “And we will work on that, as well. But that’s our time for today.”
“Oh, okay. Wow that went by fast.”
She laughs. “Well, we had a bit to go over today. Now, it’s up to you how often you want to meet. I can only provide you recommendations for you to consider.”
“And what would you recommend?”
“I would suggest twice a week to start, as we begin to work through your triggers and help sort out your trauma. Most of my patients go this route, then move to a weekly schedule. Then, eventually, it could be once a month or just a random appointment here or there.”
“I think I can do that.”
“Excellent. Now, some homework. I want you to come to the next session with three things you like about being in Dublin. I also want you to think about a couple of things you don’t readily have access to, and if having those things in Dublin would help your time there.”
I know I can’t have Michael here. But I would die for some Fruity Pebbles and real Diet Coke.
24
When Niall had suggested it, I couldn’t picture it. And, now that I’m here, I still don’t know what to think.
Doom Slice, in its gay nightclub form, is…interesting. Well, I guess it technically isn’t Doom Slice, it’s Pawn Shop. I’ve just only been in here, in the shared space, for the pizza.
In one corner you have a group of twenty-something girls, half barefoot and the others on some of the highest heels you’ve ever seen. Then you have the clustered bros hanging by the pizza window, catching a late dinner who seem completely unaware of the night’s main event. And, of course, a few forty-something couples trying to talk over the thumping base enjoying a couple of glasses of wine.
Then, of course, you have all the gays. And, included in that, us. Leo and Anders wave to a few friends sitting along the bar, leaving John, Niall, and I almost immediately.
I am so completely and incredibly out of my element. I’ve never been a big nightclub guy, especially when you consider what little offerings there are to be had in Connecticut. The same can be said about gay bars or any sort of Pride events.
Yes, I teach classes on LGBT literature and am a gay man myself, but I never saw myself fitting in as part of these social circles.
But it would appear that I’m about to be introduced headfirst into it, as Leo grabs my hand and leads me out onto thedance floor. We join Anders and, somehow, I end up in between them.
Looking around, I’m beginning to notice that the spectrum of those in attendance waver wildly. A man in a mesh shirt and striking eye makeup is walking past me, when I can still see John standing by the bar in his polo and backwards Irish Rugby hat. There are men in flannel shirts and men in, what can only be described as, women’s blouses. Niall and I fall more in the John camp, where Leo and Anders lean slightly closer to mesh shirt guy.
I dance a couple of songs with Leo and Anders before pulling away to go to the bar. The bartender is, for lack of better words, crazy hot. What is it in the water here?
“What’ll it be? We’ve got martini specials listed here and two for one Guinness.”
“Yeah, I’m not nearly coordinated enough to do that,” I gesture towards the dancing crowd, “and juggle martini glasses. The Guinness special please.”
He pours the first, then lets it sit for a minute. “American, yeah?”
I laugh. “That obvious? It’s all I’ve been hearing lately.”
“Maybe the accent. But you’re much cuter than the normal idiots who come here.”
Well then.
“Shout if you need anything else. Caleb.”
“Daniel,” I say, giving a little wave as I walk back to Niall and John.
“I see you’ve met shithead,” John says, taking my second Guinness. I look over at Caleb, his face now full of disappointment.
