Short Story / Chapter One: Redemption in a Bottle
Redemption in a bottle
Prologue
The past and future dissolved into mist. Only a tree remained, absorbing the wind’s breath. Drawing near the tree, he closed his eyes. He felt his way through branches and leaves, rustles and snaps. Raindrops fall and swim down his cheeks. Rain’s cold embrace, he feels the sound of its heartbeat. He treaded deeper in the tree.
In front of him stood a long hallway that led into oblivion. The quiet guided his feet and calmed his heart. Drawing near an end, he saw a window. He knew that when he looked inside, he could see anything he wanted. He knew because omniscience rested before him…….
Chapter I
Sunlight from the window danced through Cassidy’s fingers. Heat placed a small distance between him and the world. The bittersweet aftertaste of self-loathing and coffee faded. A thought flashed through his head of a dream he had the night before. He struggled to remember, but it was gone as it had come. Looking back to the end of his mental tunnel, he saw a red-light flash and a woman’s voice echo.
An older attractive woman sat in front of him. Through glimmering red lip stick, grease-permed red hair, long red nails, and soft pale skin, she concealed her age well. Reassuming his position as the mind-doctor, he noted a few unnecessary pauses in speech and a deadly blank in his patient’s crystal-clean blue eyes. The void in her stare told him, she may have once used heavy drugs. Probably in her youth, because it didn’t show in the way she looed now. That drug-user hid behind fancy clothes, expensive jewelry, and a piercing self-important voice. The idea that she decorated her face in lies as she did her own life darkly amused him. A face that may have been wrinkled by the embraces of cocaine and meth could hide behind a face-lift; heavy eye shadow to cover heavy eye shadows.
He allowed his mind to drift through her intoxicating perfume. She took him back to those times when he passed time reading Cosmo and Parenting during his ex-wife’s doctor’s appointments. He imagined Mrs. Shawlee reading Cosmo like a bible; red lipstick on the bottom right-hand corner of each page as she licked her finger before turning. Cosmo-philosophy dictated that the younger ones always dye their hair blonde while older ones dye their hair red, and her hair burned a counterfeit red.
After his routine biased judgments while routinely appearing unbiased, he began to actually listen to Mrs. Shawlee. He wondered whether he should remind her that his job was to medicate and not to counsel, but instead he just let her talk as he so often did with patients. He stared into her moving mouth and swore he was treading near a black hole never to return, “I needed to get away from my husband and that house… at a beach cabin to meet with this man …and while we were grazing the shore he pulled out cigarettes” This assertion of adultery sent Cassidy’s mind back into aflutter. Imagining that the sofa resembled a confessional, He jotted down on his evaluation papers, “I feel like more and more like a priest everyday.”
Mrs. Shawlee whined, “Father….. you listening”?
Cassidy jumped aback, “Excuse me, what did you say”?
Mrs. Shawlee leaned back, crossed her legs, and attempted to furrow her already lifted brow, “There you go, proving my point. I said…”
She ponders for a moment, ‘Doctor, are you listening,’ and see….you are obviously not!” He stumbled at his defense, “oh…No…I just….I just thought you said…”
Mrs. Shawlee irritated, “Please. Don’t,” she head shook, “interrupt me. I would like to continue. Let’s see, what now? Oh, yeah, don’t interrupt this time.”
Cassidy submissively nodded and inwardly sighed as he dryly said, “You were discussing marriage problems with your husband, escaping your home to be with another man.”
Mrs. Shawlee continued, “Oh no, I need to quit smoking.”
No emotion seemed to emerge from the doctor’s trained face but he subtly grasped the arm of his chair. Recovering from the urge to laugh but then reclaiming the casual doctor’s indifference, “So you want to quit smoking? You’re certainly not alone.”
She pulled her arms closer to her body as though crawling into herself, “I guess. I’ve never really tried…. I’ve always had somewhat of an addictive personality and that’s why…. that’s why I need professional help.”
The doctor paused for a moment and then, “Does this addictive personality extend in other areas?”
“No! Of course not,” she answered with suspicious haste, “I just need to know how to stop.” Her body erected Zen-like, awaiting her master’s insight.
The poised master spoke, “Well, you have taken the first step, recognizing that you have a problem. Is that all you came for?” She nodded.
“Okay… If this is all that troubles you, then I don’t think you need a psychiatrist. You’re looking more for a support group or possibly a counselor, which I could help you with the latter. We could schedule a talk therapy session or I could refer you to some good friends of mine…”
She bit her lip, “No. I came to you. I want your help.”
He glares, “Okay.”
He went on, “Well, being a psychiatrist and this session not a talk therapy session my job is mostly medicating, but there are some basic steps I can suggest.”
As he was speaking he wrote down a few more lines beginning with “I am a priest with redemption in a bottle.”
She seemed in contemplation then she nodded, “Go on.”
“I want you to think back to when you first began smoking. When you can envision that, contrast it to why you smoke now.”
She drew in closer and repeated, “Go on.”
As if he were prompting a child, “Didn’t you want to take some time to reflect…”? Meditatively she retorted, “No. Continue. Please.”
He then spoke with banal empathy, “Usually people like to take a while to reflect. However, I do have some homework for you, when you feel the urge to smoke you should write down what you’re feeling. If you give in to the urge, write down how that feels. What this does is show you how many cigarettes you actually enjoy. It helps you understand the root of the problem, the reason why you continue this habit…”
“Do you have anything I could take”? She interrupted.
He smiled, “I don’t believe replacing one habit with another is the way you really want to approach this Mrs. Shawlee.”
She sighed, “Come on, there has to be something that can HELP me.”
“Well… There are some over the counter substitutes like nicotine gum and the patch.”
She almost laughed, “No… I mean… Can I take anything? How about…. Valiums?”
“Do you think you smoke out of a deep depression”?
“…Lustral”? ]
“OCD”?
“Zyprexa…”?
“That’s for multiple personality disorder.” He said dryly.
“Yeah well… That other stuff, support groups, and nicotine and stuff… that shit … that shit don’t work,” she snapped.
“It helps many people, but you’re right. It can only help those whom are willing to put forth the willpower to quit. Every habit takes self discipline, and that’s not easy to come by.” She slouched over and sulked like a spoiled child.
Finally, the druggie spoke again,” You know what takes self discipline? Listening to your,” she looked him up and down, “horseshit.”
“You’re only saying what anyone would say. You’re no helpt to anyone,” she sat in deep contemplation. He simply stared at her.“I’m leaving,” she said as though her departure were a punishment. He looked down and listened to the trail of high heeled clops, “You’re welcome to come …,” the door slammed, “back.”
She would never make him drug-peddle in his office again (unless if she were to forget about this incident all together). Imagining her coming back made him but more importantly: he didn’t care. For a moment, he wondered if he would have cared yesterday. Today was different, because today was proceeded by a dream he almost remembered. He looked down at his evaluation papers to notice what he had written.
“I feel more and more like a priest everyday.
I am a priest with redemption in a bottle.”
Cassidy looked at it and then thought; and wrote more.
“I feel more and more like a priest everyday.
I am a priest with redemption in a bottle
Everyday, someone sits on that sofa and eases away guilt with their confessions.
Priests and psychiatrists are supposed to adhere to some higher goodness in humanity
but have more than often in the past adhered to money.
I am a priest with redemption in a bottle
….and a wad of cash in my pocket
And Priests blame Satan, while we psychiatrists blame Mommy and Daddy.
I am a priest with a finger to point.
Lying, cheating, stealing, adultery…
All these years and every generation eats the same apple.
Everyone’s sin is no one’s sin, but not when everyone is faceless.
Priests have confessionals,
Psychiatrists have confidentiality and lawsuits.
If God is dead, psychology killed him….”
Pleased with his work, he placed it in the lower drawer of his rich-brown shiny desk. The polishing on the desk made this little face. It seemed to be a smaller version of the face he used to imagine he saw on the polishing of his childhood bedroom door. The boy whose imagination once ran wild sat here is now the old man whose imagination ran away. The old man needed some “fresh” toxic air, so he reached into his desk and pulled out his Camels.
Sliding by his receptionist’s desk,
“Hey Marissa, take a break. Have a cigarette with me.”
She calculatedly looked up from her delicately color coded filing cabinet, and brown tinted glasses that covered half her face,
“I don’t know.I mean… I have to… I am….”
“I know you’re not that busy to take five minutes away when there are no patients ‘til next hour. It’s not like I’d fire you.” He smiled, raised one eyebrow, and looked down to where she stood at a petite 5’1.
“Okay, I’ll come, “and under her breath, “but God forbid Paul shows up.”
Then she continued, “I mean… He is nice and all. I just hate the way he looks at me and when he hugs me I want to vomit.”
“He won’t come. I promise. He has patients right now, remember?”
“You know what Cass? You could convince the pope to commit suicide.”
He smiles at the reference to Catholicism, “I thought we were in the business of talking people out of such endeavors, however sometimes I believe euthanasia would serve as great treatment.”
Marissa’s mouth, possibly the largest thing on her body, stretched across her face to let out a smirk that became a girlish giggle. She tilted her slender brown head and gave him a light playful smile, “You would suggest that it would be better for people kill themselves to make their lives better”?
His whole body lit up, “No. I would suggest they kill themselves to make my life better.” She shook her head and walked towards the door, “Then you wouldn’t have a job.”
The outside was warm with the noon’s sun but moist from the light morning shower. He peered over at some trees and a queasy feeling entered his stomach. The tree reminded him of something, but he didn’t attempt to figure it out. He brought a cigarette and lighter to his face and caught a lovebug in his mouth. The swarm of lovebugs felt like a biblical omen. Marissa spoke, “Well… at least it’s not mosquitoes, but I shouldn’t jinx us,” she said to fill in space.
He hated space-filler conversation but responded, “Jinx…. That’s a funny word to work its way through our language.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh you know,like when someone says ‘I don’t know what’s gotten into me today’ that’s a reference to possession. And of course jinx… that’s a form of magic to cause bad luck. It all goes back to a time where our ancestors believed in those things and now people just walk around speaking it without realizing it.”
“I just never thought of it that way….”
“You fucking asshole”! A woman’s voice interrupted. He looked to Marissa, and it wasn’t her voice; she was looking around too. A red light flashed across the corner of his eye.
Cassidy “Oh, shit.”
“What?” Marissa’s eyebrows rose in confusion and her head drew closer to Cassidy.
The loud clops charged in front of him like a mother bear defending her cubs,
“You fucking asshole. Look at you. I tell you I want to quit smoking and look at you. Smoking”!
He looks to Marissa’s puzzled face and then to Mrs. Shawlee’s,
“You know… I’m so sorry Mrs. Shawlee…”
Mrs. Shawlee, “Yeah… Not practicing what you preach.”
“I am being so highly inconsiderate.”
“Yes you are.”
“Mrs. Shawlee…. Did you want a cigarette?”
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This 21 word review has not been unlocked.
I really like this story! It’s starting off very nicely!
I love the title and the words the doc ended up writing down.
The only thing i might add is adding paragraphs when new people speak it gets a little joined together when you don’t.
Thought the dialogue ran nicely and everything fit well together. You must have a talent for writing ^^
Great character in Cassidy! I really like him. Though it does sound more like a girls name then anything else it does seem like a nice name for him.
I’m not sure what point the prologue has at the moment my guess is it’s the deam he had and can’t quiet remember.
I can’t wait to see where you’ll be going from here!
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I realize that this is early in the story (a novel?) but I don’t get a real sense of where the plot is going. It’s an interesting premise and you have a good hook but where is it heading? The prologue doesn’t really set up the conflict.
Despite this, the writing is fairly straight forward and you have some clever wordplay. The dialog is stilted at times but generally good.
You have some minor tense issues. In the prologue you start in past tense, switch to present with raindrops fall and swim, and he feels the sound. You then go back to past tense. This entire short prologue should remain in past tense. Then the story proceeds in past tense except for a slip when “He glares.”
He struggled to remember, but it was gone as it had come. –– Something missing here; perhaps quickly or stealthily.
That drug-user hid behind fancy clothes,… –– Awkward. Perhaps “That one-time drug user now hid…”
…which I could help you with the latter. –– Delete “the latter.”
Well, being a psychiatrist and this session not a talk therapy session…––Very awkward; rewrite, possibly as two sentences.
However, I do have some homework for you, when you feel the urge to smoke you should write down what you’re feeling. –– Either two sentences (…homework for you. When…) or a hyphen after “for you.”
“…Lustral”? ]
“OCD”?
“Zyprexa…”? –– Who is saying this? It’s unclear.
(unless if she were to forget…–– Chang to (Unless she forgot…
Imagining her coming back made him but more importantly… Is something missing here? It makes no sense as written.
today was proceeded by a dream… –– Should be preceded.
The boy whose imagination once ran wild sat here is now the old man whose imagination ran away. –– Replace ‘sat here is now’ with ‘now sat here as.’
out of such endeavors, however sometimes…–– should be punctuated: out of such endeavors; however, sometimes
October 09, 2006
Deleted User
This 17 word review has not been unlocked.
A good, hard proof reading is in order with this story. The narrative jumps about so much that it is hard to follow. It struggles to be entertaining and manages to give a glimpse of insight into the mind of the writer. It was satiric and, at times, very comical.
In several places you shifted from past to present tense, befuddling me a bit. On more than one occasion you forgot words in a sentence, once again inspiring confusion. But, like I said, a proof reading is in order. I think after you sat down and read what you wrote it would no longer be so jumbled with mistakes.
I am also unaware as to what the overall theme of the story is. I suppose that it may be because the novel is in its beginning stages, but there should still be some sort of “snag” at the beginning of every novel. If you lose the reader in the first couple of pages you’re not likely to get them back.
So, all ripping aside. Here are some constructive criticisms for you. One; make the plot a little easier to decipher. I understand that the story is about a psychologist struggling with his morality, but is that all? If so you’re going to have to build one hell of a good character or you won’t find many readers.
Two; Pay close attention to the tense you are writing in. Words like “says” and “towards” should not be thrown into stories written in the past tense, it throws the readers off. A chance in tense is much like an unwelcomed change in pace, it can alter the reader’s perceptions and make them lose interest.
Three; Proof read three times or more. The hardest part of proof reading your own work is that you read it the way you thought it up. As the writer your sentence structures will always seem right to you, but to a casual reader there are glaring mistakes. Perhaps you should read this out loud to someone.
You have a talent, just try to hone it. I am looking forward to reading a revamp of this chapter.
October 09, 2006
Deleted User
This 56 word review has not been unlocked.
great writing, i’d only say that you start too many sentences with Mrs. Shawlee and then some description of how she spoke. Change it up a bit, e.g., “Please. Don’t,” irritated, Mrs. Shawlee’s head shook , “interrupt me
I think it’s great. It goes farther than regular fiction, with it’s devling into his dreams and stuff.
I liked the dialogue between Cass and the secretary. It’s funny to imagine how a psychiatrist views work after years and years of the same thing.
And I loved the ending. You said this was a continuing story so I hope to read more in the future.
really clever resolution – and the prose is expertly done – i don’t QUITE know how i feel about the analogy drawn between the psych and the priest – because it seems to draw from a metaphor for the therapy/drugs—and thats a corrolation more than a connection…
well done though, and this is brilliantly prosed for your age.
Suggest: She concealed her age with glimmering red lip stick, grease-permed red hair, long red nails, and soft pale skin.
This section is pretty unbelievable. A shrink wouldn’t see heavy drug abuse, especially past drug abuse in a patient’s stare. Maybe he could ask a question that strikes a chord with the patient and he assumes drug use from that?
I think this story jumps around a lot and some of the more flowery descriptions end up causing confusion, for example in the prologue. It reads like a poem, but looks like a paragraph. Suggest some minor revisions there because a prologue is supposed to set the scene “for the story thus far” and this falls flat in that area.
Good luck.
Valiums?”
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