Worth it

Worth it

“Mr. Richardson? Sir...sir, wake up” the voice was faint but insistent. Rupert tried to ignore it and fade back into the deep sleep that it had disturbed. The hand on his shoulder broke the magic of the nap though and he reluctantly opened his eyes.

As his vision cleared he began to wonder where he had fallen asleep this time. In the past it had been a subway or a coffee shop but this place didn’t look familiar. High vaulted ceilings of white plaster and sturdy wooden framed walls framed the room he was in. A handful of people dressed in black filled the furniture, all giving him confused looks. The room looked like it was trying to be warm and welcoming but it felt more worn and tired. A man stood too close to him and he glared up as he wiped a hand across his eyes

“Sir,.. you were snoring.” the man said. He was older and thin with too much cologne. His suit was as worn as the décor.

“Sorry, …not sure how I got here” Rupert mumbled a reply as he stepped around the man and headed for the door. A murmuring from the gathered people filled the room. A woman in a black veil was crying and dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue.

“Mr. Richardson? Sir we're about to begin..” the old man in the worn suit called but Rupert waved him away as he stepped out into the daylight.

The fresh air felt good, invigorating and it cleared the mental cobwebs as he took a deep breath. He must have been out for a walk and stopped in to this place thinking it was a café. That must be it. Now, which way was home?

“Rupert, over here!” a baritone voice called out followed by the sound of a car horn. A handsome middle aged man in a red convertible sat at the curb waving.

“Dr. Oberon? What are you doing here?” Rupert didn’t expect to see his therapist out of the office, the man lived out of town and only commuted to see patients. Almost without realizing it Rupert found himself walking to the car, as if compelled.

“Ahh Rupert, you haven’t been sleeping enough? You called me, said you were taking a nap in some lovely establishment and wanted a cab to take you home. Hop in, I was in the neighborhood.” Oberon leaned over and pushed the door to the passenger side open for Rupert.

“Thanks.. I guess. I don’t remember making a phone call. What are you doing in the city?” Rupert asked as he folded his legs into the car.

“You're exhausted Rupert. You asked me to oversee your bank transfer. Here in the glove box. The envelope is yours.” Oberon accelerated away from the curb while glancing at his rearview mirror and smiling.

Rupert, scrambled for his seatbelt before opening the glove box and retrieving an envelope full of $100 dollar bills.

“Twenty thousand dollars Rupert, that investment paid off.” Dr. Oberon clapped him on the shoulder as he rounded a corner with the other hand dancing along the steering wheel.

Rupert's head swam for a moment, unsure of what his therapist was saying, of where this money came from, or even of where he was. His heart hammered in his chest, his vision blurred and he caught his breath as the panic attack began. Then...it was gone, his mind cleared. He took a deep breath. It all made sense, he remembered making the phone call, the investment, the walk. It all made sense. Oberon took his hand off Rupert’s shoulder and chuckled softly.

“Rupert you must take better care of yourself. Here take this as well.” He reached into the open compartment and retrieved a black notebook with a thin chain on its spine. “I want you to start journaling, recording your troubles so we can discuss in your sessions. Anything that is bothering you.”

Rupert looked down at the book in his lap. It felt comfortable, familiar almost. He'd never journaled before but if his doctor thought it would help...

“We've never spoken about your family Rupert. Tell me about them, perhaps there is a clue to your troubles.” Oberon’s voice was smooth and comforting.

“I never knew them, I was an orphan” Rupert said after a moment, shaking his head to clear a profound sense of loss that suddenly filled him.

“How very sad..” Oberon smiled as he tapped the journal in Rupert's hands. “This will help with all sorts of bad memories. Trust me, it will be worth it.”.

Three days earlier...

Rupert's alarm jarred him awake . Stretching he slapped the buttons to prevent the awful screeching before climbing out of bed and stumbling down the hall. His coffee pot was waiting.

Saturdays were the most relaxed he could be and he reveled in the idea of having nothing to do, no commitments, no plans. The smell of the coffee filled his tiny apartment as he wandered from room to room, tending to his morning routine. Dressed in sweats and an old ball cap he headed back to the kitchen.

His therapist had said he was not sleeping enough but that was just a doctor reaching for a problem. No one slept enough, Rupert didn’t feel special in that regard.

Finally his coffee pot issued a welcome beep and he filled a mug from the cupboard, a strange pink and purple cup with stars on it. He couldn’t recall where he had bought it but it really didn’t matter.

Deciding that a walk in the park sounded good he headed to the front door for his shoes and jacket. After his walk he could visit his father in the hospital, they needed to catch up. Leaning down to pull his sneakers on he paused at something hanging from the bottom of one of them. Setting his coffee down he flipped the sneaker and his eyes shot open. Stuck to the bottom by a piece of gum was a crisp $100 bill.

“Holy shit, lucky day” he smiled, peeling the bill away and sliding it into his pocket, it bumped against the journal his therapist had given him.

His pants pocket buzzed at that moment, a call demanding his attention. Glancing at the number his brow wrinkled and he thumbed the speaker button.

“Dr. Oberon? It’s Saturday. What’s up?” Rupert said as he pulled the journal out of his pocket. It was black leather with a slim chain on its spine.

“Rupert, I'm calling about your father. I know you were close. My associate at the hospital tells me that he passed and they are having a hard time reaching you. You had me as a point of contact. Rupert, I know you must be feeling awful but remember what we spoke about.” As Oberon spoke Rupert felt a numb dread wash over him. Glancing at his phone he saw the missed calls, texts and emails.

“He's been sick for a while, I ..must have slept through the calls. My dad...” Rupert’s voice cracked as he spoke, his knees felt weak.

“I am so sorry to have been the one to tell you Rupert. You really shouldn’t be alone at a time like this. Do you have someone, a friend, a girlfriend perhaps?” Oberon’s voice in the speaker sounded hollow, far away.

“No...I haven’t been dating, no one for a year or two.” Rupert said as he stared at the coffee cup with purple and pink stars and wished he could talk to his dad one more time.

“Use the journal Rupert, it can be there for you. It will be worth it” the doctor said before the line went dead.

Twelve hours earlier…

“Rupert, look… It just isn’t working out. You’re a nice guy but we aren't going anywhere. I’m sorry, just...I’m sorry. It feels like you're forgetting or ignoring everything important and I don’t want to wait around for you to stop caring about me...take care of yourself.” The voicemail ended and Rupert stared at his phone before tossing it on the couch.

He'd listened to Samantha break up with him ten times at that point and each time it made his stomach hurt. They'd been together for a year, he thought things were going good. She apparently had not. She hadn’t even bothered to take all of her things, small pieces of a life together that he would agonize over as he found them. Reminders of what he lost.

The windows in his apartment were black voids, it was the dead of night and he had no one to talk to tell how hard his day was. His boss had been on his case all day at work, the subway ride home smelled like piss and then to come home to an empty apartment and a voicemail telling him that he was going to be alone. It was one more awful day in a series of awful days. His new therapist said bad memories were still important and that he shouldn’t shy away from them. That even bad memories had value.

“It will be worth it,” Rupert said to himself as he pulled the black notebook out of his back pocket. Dr. Oberon had given him the book to record his thoughts and memories. A crumpled $20 fell to the floor, it must have been in his pocket during the wash. He couldn't recall where the money had come from but he didn’t have enough energy to reach down and pick it up.

Rupert stared at the black leather book with its decorative chain. Oberon had said those words when he gave Rupert the journal. Without looking he plucked a pencil off the end table. Bad memories? Sure, he had plenty.

“It will be worth it,” he said as his pencil touched the paper.

Two weeks earlier...

“Good morning Rupert, I am Dr. Oberon. Pleasure to meet you” the man behind the desk was holding out his hand in a welcoming gesture.

Rupert nodded and mumbled a greeting as he took a seat in the dark wood paneled office. It was a comfortable space but something felt off. Like someone was watching him that he couldn’t see or some hidden danger. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he felt a chill run up his spine.

“So Rupert, your file says you have been having trouble with some bad memories? I am sure we can help with that.” as Dr. Oberon spoke he reached into his desk and produced a black leather notebook with a small chain on it. He sat it on the desk and slid it towards Rupert.

Rupert felt certain he had never seen the notebook before but as it moved towards him his heart beat a staccato against his rib cage. Something odd, something dangerous and alien was there in front of him and he couldn’t see it. He started to shake and began to stand up when a hand fell on his shoulder. Oberon, somehow had stood and moved around the desk without Rupert noticing. One moment he was sitting, the next he was next to Rupert.

“How…” Rupert gasped before falling silent and taking a deep breath. Everything was fine, he felt calm and relaxed. More relaxed and safe than he had in months.

“Everything will be fine Rupert. I want you to take this journal and write down all those bad memories that have been troubling you. It will be worth it.” Oberon smiled down at him and for a moment Rupert swore the man had pointed canine teeth and alien eyes. Then it was gone and he was just a handsome older man in a tweed suit and Rupert felt safe.

“Ok, I can do that. Bad memories, sure. It will be worth it” Rupert repeated as he reached out for the journal.