Avery Meets Dr. Carrington

The sun pierced through my floor-to-ceiling bedroom windows. The Following the dramatic The previous evening’s confrontation between Jack and I had been so dramatic, I’d neglected to draw the blinds. I looked at the clock. 10:30AM. My appointment with Dr. Drexel Carrington was scheduled for 11:30.

I didn’t feel like getting dressed. I couldn’t be bothered to brush my teeth. And I had absolutely no interest in spilling my cuts to an old guy in an armchair. All I wanted to do was crawl back under the covers and not wake up for at least three months. I psyched myself up for the journey. I’d quickly get ready, hop on over, tell the old man my woes and be back in bed with a carton of Häagen-Dazs and a bar of Toblerone before the opening credits of “The Bold and the Beautiful” had completed rolling.

Jack had not returned home after storming out. As I brushed my teeth, showered and dressed for my outing, I wondered if he ever would. Although I’d resigned myself to the fact that our relationship really was over, I couldn’t help but wonder how we’d go about dissolving our partnership.

Most of our possessions, like artwork, clothing and electronics, were considered jointly owned. The laptop that I write these very words with, for example, was purchased by Jack as a birthday present for me. Should I now return it? Likewise, should I repossess the watches and jewelry I’d gifted him over the years? And what about belongings that one of us brought into the relationship that the other couldn’t bear to part with? (The majority of our vast Disney DVD collection belonged to Jack, but I’d kill him before I’d let him leave with “Beauty and the Beast!”).

It took me no time to get to the good doctor’s office. Actually, the good doctor’s office was an apartment. Dr. Drexel Carrington runs his practice out of the library of his Gold Coast condominium. The doorman announced my arrival and pointed me toward the mahogany paneled elevator.

You can do this, I said to myself. Just forty-five minutes, and you’ll be back in the comfort of your 500 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, where you can feel sorry for yourself all afternoon.

Once I’d reached the fifth floor, I made my way to apartment 502. I lightly tapped on the door.

“Just a moment,” came the voice from the inside.

Funny. He didn’t sound like an old fuddy-duddy. After a moment, the door swung open and I came face to face with the man I would come to know my darkest innermost thoughts and secrets.

“Hello,” he said. “You must be Avery. I’m Dr. Carrington. Please come in.”

I couldn’t speak. Dr. Carrington was drop dead gorgeous. Good think I decided on brushing my teeth.