Forever Home 2: Part 1 (Reader Plus Short) (Patreon)

“…then I take my basket to the express line and what do I see? The old bitty in front of me has THIRTEEN items on the conveyor. She’s just standing there without a care in the world. And the cashier? Didn’t say a word. Not one word.” I wipe my sweaty palms over the thighs of my khakis as I could feel my blood pressure rising just from recounting the ordeal. “I mean, the sign clearly states 10 items or less. If she had 11 things I could maybe understand it, but 13!? What’s even the point of having rules at that point!?”

“That sounds like it was very frustrating for you, Bernard.” Dr. Evans says in a carefully neutral tone. “You must have been in quite a hurry.”

“Well, no. But that’s not the point.” I say. “The point is that rules are meant to be followed. If everybody just followed the rules we wouldn’t have all the problems we have in the world. Is that so hard to understand? Three extra items might seem like a small thing, but…”

Just then the dreaded beep from my smartwatch indicates the end of the appointment.

“Speaking of rules.” My therapist smiles as she closes her notebook and sets it on her desk beside the framed photo of her smiling family around their beloved shaggy haired pet anthro cockapoo. “That’s our 50 minutes up.”

“Oh. Uh. Yeah.” I say as I check my watch to confirm it. “That went by quick.” These sessions always did as trying to squeeze a week’s worth of stress and worries into just under an hour was a challenge in this challenging world. But there was nothing to be done. Dr. Evans’ schedule had no more openings and I didn’t really have anybody else to talk to, not anybody who would really listen anyway.

“Bernard.” She says as she stands and faces me. “I have some homework for you this week.”

“Oh!” Standing with a smile, always excited for some actionable instruction, I smooth my plain blue tie over my crisp white collared shirt. “Hold on. Let me write this down.”

“Don’t write it down.” In her pumps she stood eye to eye with me, maybe even a bit taller. “All I want you to do is…break one rule per day.”

“Wh-What?”

“Nothing big. Nothing that will get you into trouble. Doesn’t even necessarily have to be a rule. A habit, a guideline, anything. Just anything to break your pattern. Just once per day until our next appointment. I know you don’t like being rushed into things so there is no hurry. You can start tomorrow.” She says. “Maybe start by taking 11 items to that 10 item line.”

“11 item…? Did you hear nothing I said earlier!?” I exclaim. “Rules are the only thing between us and anarchy!”

“I was listening.” She says with professional calm. “Consider it an exercise in empathy and flexibility. Put yourself in the shoes of that ‘old bitty’, maybe we’ll learn something in the process.” She turns her body, opening my path toward the office door. “We’ll talk about it next week.”

“Rule breaking? Is this even ethical?”

With a cool smile she says. “I think we’ll be okay, Bernard. Have a great weekend.”

With slumped shoulders I mutter. “I doubt it!”

***

Driving home my knuckles are white around the wheel as I continue to ponder my ‘homework’. My therapist had prescribed going on a damn crime spree! What kind of help was that? But she was the doctor and I was the patient, plus in all my years of school and work I had never once shirked my homework. As I turn onto the freeway to take me out my suburban home I notice my charge dip to 69%. Now my jaw was clenching as tight as my grip. I HATED going under 70% when I wasn’t close to a charger! What if something happened? What if I suddenly needed that extra range?

“No stops.” I say. “Straight home.”

The near silent electric motor whirs along the freeway. My speed remains at precisely 55 mph though the traffic flows past me both to the right and left. For a moment I consider maybe speeding up to keep pace with the pack as my first act of rule-breaking but that mad idea is swiftly quashed. First of all my instructions were to start tomorrow, not tonight. Plus, more importantly, breaking a rule was one thing but the speed limit was the LAW. No. That was right out. I’d plan a more innocuous act of anarchy tonight. Rule-breaking wasn’t something one could do willy nilly. Perhaps I’d also look up the code of conduct for psychiatrists in the state while I was at it. This was madness!

“Speaking of madness!” I growl as in front of me a cab merges into my lane in front of me with but a single flash of his blinker! “Rrrrm!” My temples begin to throb as my blood pressure rises.

20 minutes and 10 percentage points of charge later I am at last pulling onto my street. The straight, quiet street bordered by near identical lawns and near identical townhouses is a balm to my jangled nerves…which is instantly ruined when I spot a huge inflatable bounce house erected in my neighbor’s front lawn!

“What the…!?”

With a huff and a shake of my head I swallow the swears I wanted to say. Murray and Susan had gone too far this time. If they wanted a damn play structure they shouldn’t have build the damn pool in their damn back yard, which I still felt they had no right to do despite the HOA ruling in their favor.

As I pull into my drive I could feel Murray’s eyes watching me, daring me to make an issue of the play structure. I swear sometimes he liked ruffling my feathers. I ignore him and his hellspawn jumping around like over-caffeinated hamsters inside their pen as I cruise into my garage. I don’t get out of my car until the door was fully closed behind me to avoid any possibility of interaction. I grab my work satchel, plug in the car and enter my sanctuary.

“Ahhhhh.” I let out a long sigh as I stand in my entryway and bask in the clean, orderly, silent surroundings. After another deep breath I loosen my tie. “Home sweet home.”

***

An hour later I set my dinner plate down on my small kitchen table. One fried sausage, one microwave baked potato and a serving of steamed frozen peas. To the right of my plate was a bottle of sparkling water and to the left a Hostess Fruit Pie on a small platter of it’s own. Before sitting down I consider putting on the news or perhaps a podcast but tonight I was in the mood for quiet. Besides, I had some serious planning to do and I didn’t want to get distracted.

I sit in my usual spot and look down at the pad of paper that sat beside my dinner where I had listed a number of potential rule-breaking acts along with the pros and cons of each. So far on the list I had two circled and a few others crossed off. One of the ones I was considering was the 11 items in the 10 item line that Dr. Evans had suggested. I would drive to a part of the city I was unlikely to ever return to, so as not to take such a risk close to home where someone might recognize me, and I had already done some research into the location to see that they had a two-for-one ramen noodle deal on right now. I figured if I was called on the overage I could reasonably argue that two of the items ought to only be counted as one. It wouldn’t hold up in a court of law but I felt I could probably convince a minimum wage cashier. The other option I was seriously mulling over was to return my library books a day overdue, though the thought of holding public assets past the alloted time was still niggling at my soul. What if someone else needed the library’s only copy of ‘Options, Futures and Other Derivatives’ in the meantime?

As I mull over the list I slice off the tip of my fried sausage and chew it down. “Mmmm.” The spicy, oily flavors spread across my tongue. I loved sausage night, the perfect way to ring in every weekend. “Ooo!” Snapping my fingers I jot down another idea of rule-breaking. “Sausage night on Saturday.” I chuckle then scribble as I talk. “Pros: Sausage. Cons: Added Sodium and Cholesterol.” The entry reminds me of my hypertension medication which, for convenience, I kept right here on the table between the salt and pepper. I wash down the pills and continue with my munching and mulling.

After dinner I rewatch the Songhai Empire episode of Fall of Civilizations, as always marveling at how even the mightiest of cultures could crumble once the public order began to erode. I then turn in nice and early. After a shower I get into my pajamas and slip under the tightly tucked covers. For a long time I lay in the dark, silent room in the very center of my large cool bed staring up at the ceiling as my anxiety grew at the spree of anarchy I would commit over the next week. And as a squeal of laughing children intrudes on my peace I then begin berating myself for not reviewing the Home Owners Manual of the association to find out if that damned bounce house was even allowed. I could go out and talk to that big bastard Murray, but no doubt he was over there right now just hoping I’d make an appearance so that he could humiliate me again. For the life of me I could not understand people like him. If he and his family would just be quiet and follow the rules life would be so much better for everybody.

Finding my ear plugs I close my eyes and try to shut out the world as best I could. With the rest of the world blocked out all I could hear was my rapidly beating heart. It wasn’t easy, it never was, but after much tossing and turning and fretting I do eventually dip into a restless slumber.

***

A muffled clank wakes me from my sleep. Through groggy eyes I can see by the light coming through the curtains that it was somewhere in the neighborhood of 7 AM. Sitting up I stretch, rub my eyes then take out my ear plugs. By the clock on my nightstand I confirm that it was indeed only 7:10 AM.

“Bloody kids.” I mumble. “Did they bounce all damn night?”

Just then I hear another clank, closer and louder than it should have been…and coming in not from the window but through my bedroom door. I shoot up in bed, holding my breath to listen more closely. Another noise! This time the clink of metal on metal followed by…a sizzle? Was that…sausage grease I was smelling? Somebody was inside of my house! And they were cooking my sausage!!!

Part 2