Chapter 2

The ringing of the telephone was magnified by the pounding headache that was all consuming. I stretched my body as best as I could on the sofa that I could only assume belonged to Chris and placed my hands over my forehead.

“Answer the phone,” I groaned as I slowly opened my eyes and tried to bring the world into focus. “How much did I drink?” I asked no one in particular, while I fought down the vomit that was trying to force its way up my esophagus.

“Clearly, more than you can handle,” said the oh so familiar voice of Dr. Mokena.

“What are you doing here?” I groaned.

“I live here,” she said in a flat tone.

Perhaps I just heard it as flat because of my all-consuming headache. I tried to sit up, but the pain was so excruciating that I was sure I’d lose the battle with the vomit.

“I’m sick,” I said matter-of-factly.

“I’m not surprised,” she said. “I’ll get you some Alka-Seltzer. It will help with both your stomach and head.”

“I need something really strong for my head,” I urged.

“I doubt that your stomach would tolerate anything else. Just trust me and drink the Alka-Seltzer for now,” she said.

She was right. As I slowly sipped on the bubbly medicine, my stomach settled down and my headache reduced to a more tolerable level.

“Where’s Chris?” I asked as I slowly looked around the room. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my apartment,” she explained.

“That’s right, you already said that… I think,” I mused aloud. “I’ve no clue how I got here.”

“I brought you here. I happened to be passing that quaint little Irish pub that you imbibed in. When I saw them struggling with you and your friend, I offered to help. Neither of you were in any condition to tell me where you lived. So, I brought you home with me,” Dr. Mokena said in a low voice. “Your friend is on the sofa in my den.”

“You know where I live,” I protested as I struggled to sit straight up.

“I have your address on file in my office. I certainly don’t carry it around with me in the event that I might stumble upon your drunken backside on the streets of Queens,” she said briskly.

“I need to go home,” I said as I stood on shaky legs.

“Who is Bart?” she asked.

“He’s an old boyfriend,” I replied sadly. “He’s dead.” After a moment, I added, “We were engaged once.”

“I see,” she said, thoughtfully. “Is that the reason for your drunken fest?”

“I don’t know,” I said with frustration. “I went there with Chris to have a drink or two to unwind. Out of nowhere, comes this guy from my childhood. He bullied me from the time I entered kindergarten until I graduated. He’s a real son-of -a-bitch. For some crazy reason, he decided to look me up to tell me that Bart died. Then, he tried to act chivalrous when he saw I drank too much. It got messy.”

“Why would it get messy?” she asked.

“I didn’t want him near me, let alone aiding me,” I admitted. “Somehow, amidst all of the arguing, remembering past hurts, and frustration over the fact he wouldn’t disappear, I drank too much.”

“Which of the men helping you was Jack?” she asked.

“There was more than one?” I gasped.

“There were several men hovered around you when I stopped the cab,” she admitted. “I didn’t like the look of things. That’s why I stopped.”

“It was pretty stupid of us to get so smashed. The only male I knew in that bar was the creep from my past and he can hardly be trusted. I’d never seen the bartender before, if he was one of the men helping,” I said.

“There was a man with a crooked nose and acne scarred face, a man in an expensive suit,” she said as she counted on her fingers, “and I believe the other was the bartender.”

“I guess I owe you a huge thank you,” I sighed.

“Attending my retreat will do,” she chuckled.

“What’s it for again?” I asked.

“Trust me. It’s important for you to be there,” she assured me.

“Gertie!” Chris shouted with an agonized tone from the other room. “Where the hell are we?”

The apartment was one of six that were in a quaint brownstone on the east side of Queens. Although not overly large, it provided plenty of room for a professional who was single and looking for a place to nest and get away from it all. The room I was in was an open living space where she’d set up the living room and dining area. When I saw Chris come out of what looked to be the second bedroom, it was clear that the doctor had turned it into a small den for when she brought her work home with her.

“I need to pee,” Chris whined as she jiggled in place.

“It’s the door at the end of the hall,” Dr. Mokena said, patiently. She looked at me for a moment before adding, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “It’s just that… that guy in the suit… he looked familiar, but I can’t place where I saw him or how I know him.”

“Did he say that you two knew each other?” she asked.

“He never even said his name,” I said, thoughtfully. “He just came over to help get rid of Jack.”

“It must have been messy to attract a stranger to act as your hero,” she said with a grin.

“My head hurts like a bitch,” Chris grumbled as she returned from the bathroom. “Oh, hello,” she said as she focused on Dr. Mokena. “Thanks for putting us up.”

“You remember?” I said with surprise.

“She was less under the weather than you were. Although, she was still dangerously out of it,” Dr. Mokena explained.

“Yeah,” Chris admitted. “I remember bits and pieces, but not everything. It’s like someone slipped something in our drinks or something.”

“Do you think?” I said eagerly. “Not that I’d want that to happen, but it makes more sense than us drinking ourselves into stupors like that.”

“I’m trying to remember how many drinks we actually had,” Chris mused.

“I can settle this very easily,” Dr. Mokena said. “I have a friend who works in a lab. We can get her to draw a little blood and test it.”

“I don’t know if we need to go to all that trouble,” I said, warily.

“I think that I’d rather just go home,” Chris added.

“Okay,” the doctor said as she threw her hands in the air with exasperation. “If you feel that you don’t need to find out if it’s safe to drink there again, then skip the blood test.”

I bit my lower lip while I debated what to do. I really did just want to go home, but the doctor was right. Neither Chris or I knew that bartender. What if he was in cohorts with some underground trafficking racket and drugged us. Maybe that handsome guy was there to whisk us off to market and Jack foiled his plans. Maybe he was trying to get rid of Jack for his own personal gain instead of for ours.

“She’s right,” I said to Chris. “We really should get that blood work done before our systems clear out.”

“I feel so bad,” Chris said.

“Drink some Alka Seltzer,” I offered. “It helped calm me down.” I turned to the doctor and asked, “Do you have more?”

She smiled, nodded, and headed for the kitchen to prepare a glass for Chris. Within a few minutes after drinking it down, not only had the color returned to her cheeks, but she was claiming hunger. I still hadn’t reached that point, which was a good thing since the doctor preferred that we wait until after our blood was drawn to eat something.

The lab was within walking distance. It gave Chris and me a chance to walk off some of the negative effects from the night before. I smiled to myself as I listened to Chris chatter away with Dr. Mokena about everything and anything. It wasn’t until she brought up the topic of Bart and the funeral that I noticeably scowled and asked them to change the subject.

Of course, that wasn’t about to happen. Not with my therapist in the mix. She poked and prodded until she pulled as much information about Bart and my former relationship with him as she could from me; mindless of the fact that Chris was hanging onto every juicy tidbit divulged. It wasn’t that I minded having my best friend listen in. I had nothing to hide on the subject. It’s just a personality quirk of mine. I’m not comfortable telling all… to anyone.

It was decided that, for closure purposes, I would attend the funeral. Chris offered to join me and I readily agreed. When I called my parents to tell them that I was coming and for what purpose, they made a watered-down attempt to dissuade me. I’m sure that they were battling the mixed emotions of wanting to see me after such a long gap in visits and wanting to protect me from the venomous talk of Bart’s family. I told them that I was bringing my best friend from work as a shield and assured them that I’d be fine. By the time our conversation ended, we were all excited about my coming, regardless of the reason.