"Stanley, you can't do this to me," I yell at the receiver as if it
was his own ear.
"It's only been a week, Josh. You'll be okay," he answers calmly.
This man apparently did not hear me.
"But what if.."
"What if nothing," he interrupts. "Nothing's going to happen.
Didn't you tell me that nothing happened when you were listening to
the carolers last week?"
"Yeah." Okay, one incident. That doesn't count.
"And later on when Toby still had those cantata people over?"
"Yeah." So there were two.
"And during CJ's party?"
"Yeah." Oh.
"Then, you'll be alright."
He thinks.
"But.."
"Josh, no buts. The music isn't bothering you as much anymore.
You're feeling better for now. No problems. In fact, if I'm not
mistaken, it almost seems as if you're trying to avoid going to the
New Year's party."
I'm speechless. How did he know? "You're mistaken."
"Sure, I am. Well, then we have nothing more to talk about.
Goodbye, Josh. Happy New Year." Then he hung up.
I listen to the dial tone for an extra moment. My expensive
therapist just hung up on me.
When I needed him.
It's for a selfish reason. Yeah, yeah. He could have just given me
that small excuse to go home.
I really did not want to be here. It does not have anything to do
with the shooting or my problem.
I just..would rather not be here.
What else would I do?
I don't know. Sleep? It's not like I have other things to do. I
have no purpose here, either. No special meetings with senators or
congressmen. No extra work.
No date.
Well, I have Donna, but I made her come here. She didn't put up much
of a fight, oddly. She probably felt sorry for me. Hell, I would
feel sorry for me, too.
Maybe Stanley was right in making me go. I would feel guilty leaving
Donna. After all, she didn't want to come. Something about recluses
and goo-goo.
Nonetheless, my guilty conscience is not helping my cause to go
home. I wish that I were home. As I said before, nothing to do
here. Maybe glare at the lovers swimming in passionate affection
when that ball drops. I swear this whole New Year's is a bunch of
pretense so people can make out in public. Not that Valentine's Day
was enough.
Am I jealous?
No. Never.
I, Joshua Lyman, have had my share of participation in this whole
joyful and triumphant celebration of public displays of affection.
None that I would like to remember forever, but it was still
participation.
And I don't miss it one bit. Not even a little bit.
I wish that I were home.