The Gallery, Chapter 1

Chapter 1:1

Two men stood at the stainless steel doors, refusing to make eye contact.2

The first to arrive had pressed the button with an arrow pointing up three times, apparently not satisfied when it lit up after the first time.3

He was someone who clearly belonged on this side of town, as he made sure every aspect of his physical appearance screamed authority. His custom-tailored suit was flawless and fit his fairly rotund body perfectly. Why, after all, should he be ashamed of his weight? It was merely another way of showing his power; in this case, by proving that he ate three delicious meals per day.4

He even refused to hide the balding patch at the back of his head. His age and experience had brought him enough wealth and power to be worth a few hairs here and there. As if physical attraction was his primary weapon in the first place...5

The second man to approach was much younger. He was large, muscular, and not unattractive. While he was not poorly dressed, by any means, the first man could tell that this newcomer did not belong.6

He had obviously not shaved that day, and his eyes were sunken and red. He wore a tie, but ignored it as a symbol of power, choosing weak colors that were meant to be pleasant, rather than noticeable.7

The first man took all this in with a single, disdainful glance, then looked back to the floor indicator above the door. After all, his mind was on more important matters than this stranger to the building, whom the first man suspected to be some dope fiend stumbling in for an interview.8

Just eleven floors left.9

The second man, seeing that the up button was already lit, pushed it anyway, then stepped back, hands in his pockets. He pushed it to have something to do, not to accomplish any specific goal. Anything to do but make eye contact with the other man. This, at least, was one thing the two had in common. There are some rules that are not meant to questioned.10

After seconds that stretched out in silence, the bell toned and the doors opened. Both men felt a flicker of relief as the awkwardness lifted, then felt it slam down just as quickly as they realized their preemptiveness. They would, after all, still have the ride up together.11

The first man stepped on first, not bothering to notice the gesture the second man had given that he should do so. The first man pressed the button for the twentieth floor and stepped to the back of the elevator. He crossed his hands in front of him and looked up at the floor indicator above the door, never sparing a glance for the younger rider.12

The second man stepped in, pressing the button for the fourteenth floor. He then took up a position as far from the other occupant as he could. Both men were clearly experts in this activity.13

The second man also locked his eyes on the floor indicator as the doors closed, but not before noticing the slight frown that crossed the face of the first man. The second man knew that the first was irritated at the precious seconds he would lose when the elevator stopped at the fourteenth floor in order to let off half of its cargo.14

The second man smiled slightly, too slightly, in fact, to be seen by anyone not possessing an intimate familiarity with his facial expressions. He could follow the rules as strictly as possible, but there was just no pleasing some people.15

***********************************************************16

The waiting room was no different than any other he had seen. The walls were painted a soothing cream. Half a dozen chairs that were only comfortable for the first five minutes lined the two walls opposite the reception desk. A table that looked more expensive than it was sat in the middle of the room, covered in sports and entertainment magazines from the past six months.17

Alex shuffled up to the desk. The receptionist was on the phone, setting up an appointment for someone else. He wondered why they needed to see Dr. Case.18

As she typed the new appointment into the digital schedule, the young woman smiled up at him, holding up one finger. Alex nodded, looking around the counter, reading the few notices about scheduling and payment methods that were posted. 19

He tried not to stare at the receptionist. She had shining black hair that hung just past her shoulders. The kind of hair that invited someone to push a stray lock of it behind her ear, just for a better look at her face.20

There was no sense going down that road. She may not have known exactly why Alex was there, but the fact that he had an appointment with the man she worked for would be enough to make her hesitate. That was assuming that he could have worked up the courage to even talk to her.21

She put the phone down and smiled up at Alex. It was a great smile. It was the type of smile that started with her eyes, like she was a genuinely happy person. One more reason she would have absolutely no interest.22

“How can I help you?” she asked.23

“Umm,” Alex’s voice came out in a strained gasp. There was nothing wrong with him, it was just the first time he had spoken that day, and his throat had momentarily forgotten how to form the words that he needed. “I’m a little early, but I have an appointment for eleven. I’m Alexander Kay.”24

She smiled again, checking a clipboard in front of her.25

“Alright, Mr. Kay. Dr. Case is still with a patient, but I’ll let you know when he’s ready for you if you want to have a seat.”26

Alex nodded his thanks and even tried to give the girl a small smile. As he turned and made his way to a chair, he regretted it. He had never been good at faking smiles. They usually just looked like pained grimaces.27

As he sat, Alex picked up the first magazine on the pile. No one actually read them, so which one he picked up didn’t matter. He just needed a visual distraction to keep him from staring at a random place on the carpet. The poor girl behind the desk dealt with crazy people all day long. There was no need to creep her out more than necessary.28

He perused the table of contents. There were tips on dressing like the stars, reviews of a few films that would make their fifty million dollars at the box office and then would be forgotten within a decade, and apparently a Hollywood beauty had become grossly overweight.29

Alex flipped the pages slowly, drawn to full-page advertisements as much as the actual articles. He read the first paragraph of a review for the newest comic book to film adaptation, then moved on, turning page after page in a calming rhythm, rarely seeing anything on the pages.30

The door beside the receptionist’s desk opened. A woman, thirty at the oldest, shuffled out, wiping her eyes with a tissue. She looked as if she had been crying for the better part of the hour she had been with the therapist.31

She was not unattractive, but her skin was pale and there were shadows under her eyes from a lack of sleep. She wore jeans and a red shirt that had been worn at least twice since its last trip to the laundry.32

The woman looked up, and Alex paid her the courtesy of keeping his eyes buried in the magazine. He knew that feeling like that was hard enough without worrying about a complete stranger judging your appearance on top of it all.33

The woman stepped up to the desk and exchanged some words with the receptionist, scheduling her next appointment for the same time the next week, and arranging for her payment to be put on her credit card.34

Alex couldn’t help but wonder what had made the woman cry like that, what had kept her up for so many nights. If he had to guess, he would have said postpartum depression. She had the slightly unhealthy look of someone who had dropped a large amount of weight in a short period of time.35

He put an end to his own mental inquisition. She deserved her privacy, even from his thoughts. He tried harder to concentrate on the now-fat actress in the magazine, who had apparently gained a whopping seven pounds over the holidays.36

As the woman left the office, an older man stepped out of the same door she had come from, strolling to the desk. He spared a glance toward Alex, then turned to his receptionist. His hair was grey, but it still covered his entire head. He was dressed well without being opulent. It was the perfect blend between professionalism and frugality. He appeared to be a thorough professional without making patients think they were being overcharged for the sake of a new designer suit.37

Dr. Case had a hushed conversation with the girl behind the desk. She handed him a manila folder and gestured toward Alex. Not that he noticed, of course, because he had his nose buried in the magazine, refusing to make any eye contact that could lead to awkward smiles or greetings before he had to deal with them.38

Dr. Case turned to him then, holding the folder in his left hand.39

“Mr. Kay,” he said, extending his right hand, a warm smile on his face. The psychiatrist reminded Alex of a kindly grandfather. Alex had never met any of his grandparents, but this man resembled what he had imagined them to be when he was child. Kind, intelligent eyes that absorbed all the detail they encountered over the years, and a few wrinkles telling stories to those that could decode them.40

Alex rose and took the offered hand. The man had a firm grip; something Alex’s father had taught him was the first sign of a trustworthy man.41

“It’s just Alex,” he said, once again trying to return a smile that he didn’t feel. It was a slightly more successful attempt, though. Two fake smiles in the same day were more than he had managed in months, and he was bound to get better at it with practice.42

“Well, Alex, just call me Phillip, alright?” Alex nodded and followed the man into his office.43

Dr. Case walked around a large oak desk piled neatly with notebooks and folders, framed by photographs of his family. Unlike the table in the waiting room, the desk was every bit as expensive as it looked. The wall behind him had two bookshelves, covered with battered books, some bound in leather, others that were simple paperbacks. There were also several degrees and awards of merit that Alex could only assume came from various prestigious universities and organizations. The older man sat in an overstuffed leather chair that he leaned back in slightly.44

“Make yourself comfortable, Alex.”45

He motioned toward two heavily padded chairs in front of the desk. Alex chose the one furthest from the door, sinking into the crimson material. The arms were too high, giving him the vague impression that he had chosen the wrong seat and was going to be devoured as a penalty.46

Dr. Case had opened the file his receptionist had given him, spreading out a few official-looking documents. He pulled a legal pad from a drawer, scribbling a few notes at the top before settling in and looking up at his third patient of the day.47

“So, Alex,” he said, that warm smile returning to his aged features. “How are you feeling today?”48

No matter how good the psychiatrist, they all start with this question. Hundreds of thousands of dollars on an education, and they still don’t realize that humanity has an ingrained default answer to this inquiry.49

“I’m okay,” Alex said, shifting slightly to his right, trying to halt his descent into the depths of his upholstered captor.50

“Alright, stupid question,” Case said, glancing down at one of the forms that looked as though it had a medical history written on it. “Let’s start with a less existential one, shall we?”51

“You’re the doctor,” Alex shrugged.52

“Have you been sleeping?”53

The answer should have been obvious, and Case already knew the answer. Alex had deep circles under his eyes, and the ice blue irises were surrounded by a network of raw, red veins.54

“I slept for a couple hours night before last,” Alex said, picking at a loose thread he had just discovered.55

“So you didn’t sleep at all last night?”56

Alex shook his head.57

“Have you been taking anything to help? Sleeping pills, alcohol, anything like that?”58

Alex pulled a prescription bottle from his pocket and handed it to Dr. Case. He looked at the label, then back at Alex, his eyes widening in surprise.59

“Grafidax? These are 100 mg tablets. Have you been taking an entire pill, or just half?”60

“One pill.”61

“And you still can’t sleep?”62

Alex just shook his head again.63

Case handed the bottle back, making a few notes while shaking his head in wonder. He had stopped prescribing Grafidax himself because his patients had complained that it made them drowsy for up to fourteen hours. The most he had ever prescribed was half the dose Alex was taking. It was a wonder the young man could even walk.64

“Well, the first thing I want to do is see if we can’t find something to help you sleep a little better.” He pulled a prescription pad from a drawer at his right hand and scribbled something on it. “This is a new medication that I’ve had some success with. It should help you relax and fall into a more natural sleep instead of making you feel like you just shot up with God-knows-what.”65

Case tore off the prescription and put it with the rest of the paperwork before setting the pad aside. He looked back to Alex, who was now studying the photograph of his wife two children.66

“Well, Alex, is there anything you want to talk about today?”67

Alex shrugged and shook his head.68

“Well, what have you been doing for the past few days?” Case asked, unperturbed by the lack of cooperation. He would have quit years before if he couldn’t deal with someone not wanting to talk to him. “Have you been going to work?”69

“Yeah.”70

“What do you do?”71

“I’m a teacher. I teach literature over at Lincoln High.”72

Case wrote a few notes to himself. “Do you enjoy it?”73

“I guess.”74

“How is your lack of sleep affecting your work?”75

The truth was, Alex could have taught the class in his sleep, which he practically did. He taught the classics, which the students had no interest in. They never asked questions, so he never had to have an original thought. His students liked him, despite the material. He was young and explained everything in terms that were easy to understand, because he understood them.76

He had become a master at building a façade around his own personality. He wasn’t taken seriously by a large portion of the faculty because of his age, but no one could argue with his results. He showed up on time, well dressed and groomed, and he consumed large amounts of caffeine to keep the numbing stupor from being noticeable. His three classes in the afternoon had the highest GPA in the sophomore class.77

He could have said any of that to Dr. Case.78

Instead he simply shrugged.79

Forty minutes later, after as few forced topics as possible, Alex left the office with a new prescription. He stopped at the reception desk to schedule another appointment for the same time Friday.80

Before leaving, he forced another smile, which came even easier than the others. The receptionist had called him Alex. It sounded nice when she said it.81