Nightcap

"I punched him because he's a stupid ASSHOLE!" the seven-year-old boy screamed. "And so are you!"

Rebecca Muller looked down at her hands and bit her lower lip in order to suppress the urge to spring up and smack him. Why was she still doing this? This was one of many days when she didn't have a good answer.

Of course, there were reasons.The economy still wasn't good. She didn't want to take a large drop in pay. She didn't really know what else she could do with her qualifications.

But were those reasons enough to put up with this day after day? What if she started counseling adults instead? That didn't really get to the core of the issue, though. No, the concern in the back of her mind was that she didn't know if she even wanted to be a therapist anymore.

After her rush of agitation had passed she said, "We've talked about this before, Gavin. Being angry with someone isn't a reason to hit them." It occurred to her that her words were directed as much at herself as at the boy.

When the interminable hour was over Rebecca met briefly with Gavin's mother. These meetings were always brief.

"Yes, Kim, we can try increasing the medication again. Just make an appointment with Dr. Lunsford and have him call me if he has any questions."

"Yeah, because he's just so..."

"I understand, Kim."

Medication. It's not that she was necessarily against it. In many cases she had seen it provide the initial stability that was needed in order to delve into a patient's underlying issues. But that presumes a willingness on the part of the child and the parents to look at those issues. And what about the cases where the parents didn't seem to want the real issues to come to light? The cases where she suspected possible abuse? Whenever Rebecca started asking too many questions those parents just pulled the kid out of therapy. She had never had enough to go on to get social services involved, so that is where it would end.

Driving home in the December twilight she once again went over it all. The separation from Scott, the empty house. He said he felt like he was living by himself most of the time anyway, so why keep up the pretense? Also, he wanted kids. She had too, at one time. Now she wasn't so sure.

After seeing the worst of what kids, and their parents, were capable of for the last several years she was no longer so sure that motherhood was really for her. She had begun to wonder if she really wanted to deal with troubled kids all day and then come home to the expectation that she be a model parent to children of her own. She was a child therapist, after all. She should know how it's done.

So why didn't she look for another job? Sure, as soon as she got the energy. The thing about burnout, she thought, is that the symptoms themselves make it really fucking hard to do anything about it.

After getting out of the car she looked back at it, at the buildup of dirt on its previously shiny white curves. When was the last time she washed it? Off all the things pressing in on her right now, she thought, a filthy car doesn't even make the list.

Walking in the front door she tossed her coat on a chair and went into the kitchen. Dirty dishes. Forgot to buy groceries. Screw it. I'll order out.

Waiting for the food she had her first vodka tonic of the evening. By the time the guy arrived she was feeling a little better and over-tipped him. What the hell, she thought. Maybe it'll make his night.

She ate dinner on the couch, lit only by the blue-white light of the TV. She was on her third drink and tasted only anonymous bites of salt and fat. Wait, was this Mexican or Chinese? It was hard to tell in the moody semi-darkness.

After dinner came the Valium. She had started taking it about six months ago, at the time of the separation. She knew she should never mix it with alcohol, especially with the drinks she made. But the insulating buzz she got from the combination was one of her few pleasures these days.

As she swallowed the little tablet it occurred to her that maybe one day soon she would go too far - one too many drinks and one too many pills, and she might never wake up. As her consciousness began to dim and she went under the waves, it occurred to her that right now that possibility didn't seem so disagreeable. Not at all.