Free Bethel's Meadow by Gregory Shultz

anxious.
    “Check, please.”
    …
     
    Four hours later we lay next to one another on an outrageously priced rug in one of her three living rooms. I was completely exhausted. For the first time since ceasing my meds I finally felt like sleeping.
    “Can I get a rain check on the staircase?” I asked. We had already taken care of the top of the washer and dryer. “I think you have completely exhausted my supply of precious bodily fluids.”
    “The night is still young,” Sam said. From her back she rolled over and placed her chin on my chest and smiled. I have to say, never in my life had I seen any woman that looked so beautiful completely nude. “Mr. Smith, you are something else, you know that? I’ve never been with a man who could keep up with me like you do.” Her smile vanished and she regarded me with an analytical air. “You’re clearly manic right now, albeit in the early phase. I’ve seen the signs of it, more so tonight than last night. You’re having mild tremors in your hands and limbs, your pace of speech is accelerated, and you’re hypersexual.”
    “And you’re not?” I said. I was dog-ass tired, despite what Sam thought she was observing. I really didn’t feel like having a discussion of my symptoms.
    “Coming off the meds typically induces insomnia and can trigger a remarkable manic episode.” The doctor was in again. “Tell me how you feel about the breakup with your girlfriend.”
    “ Ex -girlfriend.”
    “I stand corrected,” she said, giggling. “Still, would you like to talk about it?”
    “I don’t need a second opinion, Doc.”
    “I didn’t care one way or the other,” she said. “I had already decided five minutes after meeting you that I was going to fuck you, whether you were married, committed, or whatever.”
    “No sense in weighing your soul down with moral dilemmas,” I remarked.
    “Our attraction to one another is undeniable, Smith. You have to learn to go with the flow, to act on instinct instead of acting in accordance with ethical considerations that prevent you from receiving all that life has to offer.” She rolled over and commanded: “Give me a neck massage.”
    As I massaged her she started laughing. “Dammit, that so feels good. You have really long fingers, and you’re as strong as a motherfucker. Baby, you make me feel good all over. Oh yeah, stay right there. . . . That’s it. God, that feels great.”
    I wanted to beg her to allow me to sleep, but when I reached down to feel between her legs I noticed she was wet again. What the hell, I thought, give the lady another round. Who needs sleep?
    …
     
    An hour later:
    “You know what?” she said. “You are the best I ever had.”
    I only chuckled in response. I was unable to gauge Sam’s sincerity. I was hoping she’d expand on the thought.
    “No, really, listen to me,” she said as she rolled over on top of me again. “Your girlfriend didn’t realize what she had. In fact, it wasn’t you who was incompetent in the sack. It was her . She has sexual hang-ups, the poor girl. No doubt it was her Catholic upbringing. You know, with the guilt and all.”
    “Maybe you could talk to her,” I said. My eyes were closed and I couldn’t have opened them if I had tried. I was just barely maintaining consciousness.
    “Why make yourself miserable the way you did, with the rapid withdrawal, going completely cold turkey?” she asked. “Why didn’t you take the pills I gave you? I want to know.”
    “Well,” I said, trying to hold on for a while longer, “in all the years I’ve been taking these meds, I have felt some really negative and guilty feelings about taking them.”
    “Why? What do you mean?”
    “It was different in the years when I was taking lithium,” I said. “I didn’t have much trouble with sleep, because I never really needed all that much until after I had turned thirty. That’s when my doctor—Dr. Beady Eyes—switched me from lithium to whatever the drug du jour