The Happy Treatment

Weeks pass by, then the weeks become months. Eva and I have texted each other nearly everyday, always checking on one another, because we’ve learned just how important that is in a society like today. We’re way past talking about just social media and nothing more. Eva has mostly talked about her family and the trouble she’s had with her stepmom and dad, and sometimes Zophie, and we both always talk about the trouble with the world we live in.

I’m down to my last bottle of antidepressants from Ryker’s family, then I’ll be out just in time for my psychiatrist appointment. Then I’ll have to make a next appointment for too many months away, having to go through this painful process again, and I don’t know what I’ll do then unless Ryker decides to sneak more medication for Eva again. I can’t be worried about that right now though. It’s too exhausting.

Eva says Ryker and her haven’t gotten any farther in these past few months anyway. They only hang out together and she says she thinks they’re going to end up being more friends than anything else. He never asks her to hang out, but it’s always Eva making the plans, which Eva says she’s fine with at this point as long as it means there’s a chance for another medication refill in the future for both of us. I noticed she may have been at least a slight bit hurt for a few days when she realized this pattern however.

I still have yet to formally meet Ryker. I see him at his locker occasionally at school, but we don’t have classes together or talk unlike Eva and him, and walking up to his locker and thanking him for the medication (as much as I’d like to) is something Eva asked me not to do, since a pill pocketer’s job must be kept quiet.

I walk to English class and sit at my desk next to Eva as usual, and I can tell something is immediately off.

“Everything okay, Eva?” I ask. Her usual kind eyes slowly move to face me and they’re struck with a dull tiredness. She simply nods.

“Eva, are you sure? You don’t look -”

“Everyone quiet down,” Ms. Borland interrupts, walking up to the front of the classroom.

“Eva,” I lean over to her desk and whisper, “Are you sure you’re -”

“Cindy Reeves,” Ms. Borland warns. I quiet down and allow her to talk, with my plans for after class being to talk to Eva immediately. This, of course, makes the class excruciatingly longer, and I feel my heart beating a bit too hard as I stare at the clock on the wall. The seconds are too slow, and when I find myself trying to count them I count too fast, as if counting them faster myself will make the time go by faster.

I make it to 30 minutes left of class, and time seems to slow down drastically more. If I can just make it through these 30 minutes, I think to myself, Eva and I will talk and everything will be okay. Everything has turned out okay in the past, so everything should turn out okay now and in the future. We talk and we work out whatever our fucked up minds are thinking, we can do that this time too. We can -

The intercom in the classroom beeps with an upcoming announcement.

“Ms. Borland,” The front office teacher’s voice fills the room.

“Yes, Ms. Dubanoski?” Ms. Borland answers.

“Eva Straus for checkout.”

My head spins directly towards Eva. Eva glances over at me before looking down as she gathers her papers together off her desk.

“I texted my dad,” she says, “I just didn’t get sleep last night and I’m not going to make it through the rest of the day without falling asleep in some class.”

“Oh, okay -” I can barely finish the “okay” before Eva is out of the room. An involuntary expression of concern fills my face. How is she going to get her car from the school parking lot if she rides home with her dad? She must not be tired enough to not drive her own car home, I assume. I spend the rest of the day thinking about Eva, occasionally sending her texts like “I hope you’re okay,” and “Remember to text if something’s wrong.”

After school, I grow anxious. Eva hasn’t responded to my texts and although she must be sleeping, I can’t help but worry. I desperately wanted to drive to her house but today was Mom’s turn to have the car, and I rode the bus home. I lay in bed, suddenly wishing I had some sort of pet like a dog or a cat I could use for a distraction and to not feel so alone in the empty house.

Hours pass by, and I text Mom briefly explaining my concern and how much longer she’ll be at work, though I know the answer. She gets off at 5pm usually, then sits through traffic on the way home. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind swirling into overthinking and worry. Outside my window, night begins to fall.

My phone dings with a notification and my heart jumps. I search for my phone that has somehow hidden itself in the covers of my blanket I have sitting on top of my made bed. I throw the blanket off a little too dramatically and grab my phone now lying on the floor. It’s Zophie. I forgot I even had her number in my contacts, we text so little.

I open Zophie’s message and read, “Have you heard from Eva? Her car is here but she’s not.”

My eyebrows knit together in concern and worry, and I take a deep breath. “Her car is there? She checked out around 1 during English class today and I haven’t heard from her.”

A second later my phone starts to ring. Zophie is calling me and I answer on the first ring. Before I can say anything, Zophie speaks.

“She checked out?” She says.

“Yeah, she said she didn’t get any sleep last night and she wanted to go home and rest. She said she texted her dad to come get her. Did she even take her car to school today?”

“There is no way Dad would do that,” Zophie’s voice grows louder over the phone, and I picture her pacing back and forth wherever she is in the house, “He would tell Eva to walk it off or some shit. He wouldn’t drive all the way to school from work just to check out Eva for that.”

“That doesn’t make sense though, is your dad home?”

“No, but he should be at work anyway right now.”

“What about Eva’s step-mom?”

“Mom’s not home either, she should get home soon though. I’ve texted Dad too and he hasn’t answered, but he doesn’t answer his phone at work anyway so that’s not helping at all.” Zophie sounds more frustrated with every word she speaks.

“Okay, are you sure Eva’s not home? I don’t care if her door is always closed and you’re not allowed in it whenever she’s not there, go check her room.” My voice is stern and clear. I feel my heart beating in my chest.

“Eva will kill me if she finds out I went into her room though, and I already knocked and no answer and her light’s off and -”

“Zophie, I don’t fucking care. Go check right now.” My surroundings disappear, and all I can focus on is the phone in my hand and Zophie’s voice in my ear. I feel my hand shaking slightly and I worry for the worst. I listen to the faint footsteps of Zophie rushing up the stairs to Eva’s bedroom door. I hear a knock along with an “Eva?” and I clench a tight fist in my other hand out of frustration.

“Zophie, just GO IN.” I say through my teeth. I hear a door creak open and a moment of silence.

“Zophie?” I say, now more desperate than frustrated. The brief silence after the creak of the door feels ages long, and my breathing becomes shaky.

“She’s not in here,” Zophie finally answers. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or more worried.

“Are you all the way in her room? Can you see in the bathroom with the little section with the sink?” I know Eva’s sink next to her bathroom was unable to be seen from the doorway.

“Yes,” Zophie answers, “She’s 100% not in here. Oh wait -” She pauses.

“What?”

“There’s something on her bed.”

“What? What’s on her bed?” My words are fast and nearly frantic.

“It’s -” I hear rustling on the other end, “It’s a note. Fuck, this is long.”

My heart dropped. I need to find a way over there. I take my phone away from my ear and scroll through all my contacts, searching desperately for any possibility of someone who could give me a ride.

“Read it,” I say to Zophie, my heart panicking more in my chest as I try to multitask. I’ve never felt so impatient in my life as I desperately wait for Zophie to speak again.

“Oh wait,” she shouts, “the door just opened downstairs.”

I hear loud and fast footsteps as they rush down the stairs to the front door. I grab my chest as I feel my heart overwork itself and fresh air begins to feel just out of reach.

“It’s Dad,” Zophie says.

“Tell him what’s going on. Ask if he checked her out today please, Zophie.”

I hear Zophie fill Mr. Straus in on the situation, and I hear the desperate urgency in her voice.

My phone dings and I feel it could be Mom, but my desperate hopes are for Eva. The name displays “Iris Octave.” The annoying girl from science class? I thought. She must have been absent today since she’s asking for today’s science notes.

Fuck, I don’t have time for this.

I click on our conversation and ask her for a ride, ignoring her notes question. She quickly replies, “I need notes from today, I don’t have time to-” I stop reading after that, now feeling pissed along with worried, for getting the answer I expected from Iris.

When Zophie finishes, I hear mumbles from Mr. Straus’s voice, though I can’t make out his words through the phone not being on speaker. I put the phone back up to my ear.

“Zophie?” I say, “Zophie, put me on speaker.”

She’s occupied with Mr. Straus now, and her ears aren’t accepting any other voices or distractions from her dad. I don’t think the phone is fully up to her ear now.

I’m forced to wait, with only the faint mumbles of Mr. Straus filling the silence in my room. I have no room to think, the feeling of urgency and adrenaline fills my body. I look at the time and fidget with anything I can, waiting for Mom to return home with the car since I’ve gotten no luck from anyone else.

Suddenly, the mumbles from Mr. Straus stop, and the silence is deafening. I hear my breathing, “Zophie?” I say desperately.

I hear Zophie scream through the phone, and I jump.

“NOOO,” she cries. I hear nothing but sobs and weeping on the other line, and suddenly I prefer the deafening silence to come back and fill my room. I hear a loud thud, and Zophie must have dropped the phone.

“Zophie?” My voice is barely a whisper now, and I feel a tear escape and run down my face, “Zophie, please talk to me, what’s happening?” My voice cracks. I hear rustling on the phone and the broken cries fade to the background.

“Cindy, is that you?” Mr. Straus’s voice fills the phone.

“Mr. Straus,” I cry, “Please, what’s going on, where’s Eva?”

“I’m - I’m sorry, Cindy,” he says, shakily, “I thought Eva would tell you… She received the Happy Mind Treatment today. We didn’t tell Zophie because we knew how she would take it. But don’t worry. Right now, Eva is recovering from a successful procedure in the hospital recovery room for just a few days and -”

His voice fades out, and I can’t hear him anymore. I can’t hear anything. My breathing, the frantic beating of my heart, everything is silent. Everything is blurry, and I sit down on my bed. I stare straight at the wall, and it looks so far away. I know tears are streaming from my eyes, but my face feels numb, and my arms are too heavy to pick them up and wipe the tears away like I normally would.

I press the End Call button on my phone, unaware of whether Mr. Straus was still talking or not, and I sit alone in my room. Unless someone is in an emergency room in need of an emergency Happy treatment, these procedures (much like other surgeries and medication refills) are scheduled. Eva was checked out, she couldn’t have had an emergency procedure. She knew she was going to get one, and she kept it from me.

She knew.

I think of our pact, of our conversation that feels so long ago about us even reconsidering getting the treatment, and of the natural happiness and stability I thought we felt at least sometimes these past few months. I feel the over analyzing beginning to pry itself into my mind, thinking of every instance I’ve seen Eva recently, wondering what went wrong and how this could have happened. How could she do this? Tears continue to escape from my glazy, hazel eyes as I realize no one is here to answer that question. How could she do this knowing she’d be throwing our pact out as if it were nothing to her, as if I were nothing to her.

The flashback of our pact being made so many years ago festers in my mind, replaying itself down to every torturing detail without my consent.

Eva and I were at school, sitting underneath the bleachers outside on the football field with the bright, red, running track. We hadn’t known each other for too long, but we both knew we were good friends by now, and we knew the one big thing we had in common (as do most people these days) was we had both always been fascinated with the Happy treatment, and both of us felt we were in desperate need of receiving it.

“So your mom can’t afford it?” Eva asked.

I shook my head, “No. Even if she could, I don’t think she would let me get it anyway.”

“You know, she can’t do anything about it if you go to the ER one night saying you need one.”

“Yeah, but we still can’t afford it. The ER ones are supposed to be more expensive anyway, since you don’t have an appointment and insurance doesn’t cover it as much. I don’t want to give my mom expensive hospital bills to pay because I snuck out one night and told an ER doctor I was about to kill myself if I don’t get treatment right away.”

Eva sighs, as if she doesn’t understand. “Don’t you feel like that though? Like you won’t be able to last much longer if you don’t get the procedure?”

“I guess, yeah,” I answer, “but I’m not going to do that to my mom. It’s a surgery for fuck’s sake. I’m not going to force my mom to get a call from a doctor saying her daughter is recovering in the hospital for a few days from a surgery she didn’t even know about. It’s something we’d need to discuss.”

“I guess that makes sense. Just sucks.”

“Why don’t you get it?”

“I don’t know. Seems like it’d be a lot easier for my parents so I really don’t know. My dad says Risa, my stepmom, doesn’t want to pay that much, but maybe eventually when medication costs start to add up I can get it or something.”

“Guess we’re both out of luck then. We’ll just have to be sad together.” I laughed sadly.

Eva smiles a little, “How about this?” she says, “We’ll get it at the same time some day. I won’t get it till you do, and you won’t get it till I do?”

“What if we can never get it?”

“Then I won’t get it if you don’t, you won’t get it if I don’t.”

I smile. “Alright deal,” We stupidly shake hands. I like this deal, almost promising a certain mutual friendship now and in the future. The whistle from the gym coach rings through the air, and we come out from behind the bleachers as everyone makes their way back inside to continue to their next classes.

When I think back to that time, Eva and I seemed so young. We made our pact so simply, and now more tears escape despite my eyes being squeezed shut.

When I finally hear Mom enter through the front door, she swiftly walks straight into my room after hearing no answer from me after calling, “Cindy?”

“Cindy,” she says, opening the door, “there you are. Are you okay? I’m home now, you can take the car and check on Eva.”

I wait a long time before answering, working up the energy to use my voice. I continue staring at the wall and answer faintly, “...I don’t need to check on her anymore.”