Free The Unbalancing Act by Kristen Lynn Page B

mommy’s in a mental institution and can kick your mommy’s ass ‘cause that bitch is crazy!” Oh, can you imagine?  The boys think I am at the doctor to get some rest. They are so smart though, they probably aren’t even buying this bullshit.
     
    After my call, I decide to take a walk to ward off the cramps. As I am walking down the long hallway, I see the door open from my old room. It’s probably Bath Salts Mary heading to yoga. I can’t help but get a mental picture. I can imagine her eyeballs popping out and rolling on to her yoga mat while doing the downward dog and then the blood bath that would take place after she started ripping the flesh off the other participants and whipping their skin around in her jowls like a dog eating a pork butt. A tall woman leaves the room stepping quickly, like an invisible elf is walking behind her and jabbing a sharp stick up her ass. This is not Bath Salts Mary, this is someone else. I see a long blonde ponytail and navy blue pants with a white long-sleeved shirt, but I can’t see the front. Whoever it is must have spent the night and whoever it is clearly has a sore bum. Who is this? I must know. I pick up the pace and try to catch up. I never see her face, but I do see which room she goes into. She quickly shuts the door behind her. Well, hell…somebody’s got a little night-crawler around here. I’m not one for gossip, but curiosity may just kill this cat. Hmm…room 74. I’ll remember that.
     
     

Suicide Risk
     
    Ano ther room filled with glee. There is soft music, a nice comfy couch, and a big fluffy pillow. The walls are a tranquil blue and Dr. Ames, my other designated therapist, is a stout little fella with at least four chins and droopy eyelids. He sure seems like a nice enough guy, but I don’t care to get to know him. In fact, he seems too nice to be for real. Something is off about him. I just don’t get a good feeling. I see a picture of him and his wife on his desk. Oh well, he must be at least somewhat normal. I’m sure I am just being paranoid.
     
    My plan is to get this over with so I can get back to some quiet time. His smile is literally from ear to ear and he welcomes me and offers me something to drink. I choose iced tea and he seems all excited that I accepted his offer. I’d rather have a vodka&7, but I don’t think that’s on the menu. He tells me to get comfortable and his smile fades only when I ask if the pillow case on the pillow is clean. He grabs a cup of ice from his mini-fridge and pours me some tea.
     
    “I can assure you Mrs. Bower, may I call you Vada?” I nod. “I can assure you that it is clean. The staff always changes the pillowcases after each session. It says here in your chart that this type of thing may be a problem for you, is that correct?”
     
    Well, if you think it’s a problem for me that I don’t want to get head lice or to touch some other person’s drool…or hairs… or flakes of their dead skin cells, and that I don’t want to put my head on a spot where some nasty person’s snot may have gotten wiped on, then yes it’s a problem for me.
     
    “Umm…I was just checking. I’m a mother and laundry is part of my life,” I say, trying to ease myself out of that topic.
     
    “Alright, Miss Vada, today I want to jump right into this. Don’t hold back. You are in a place of no judgments. I want you to think of this room as a box, okay? Try with me to imagine this room is a little box and you safely place your thoughts and secrets into this box. You can lock it up when you leave. Only you have the key. Are you imagining this, Miss Vada?”
     
    What the hell is he rambling on about?  What a silly little man.
     
    “Yes, Dr. Ames. I totally get it.”
     
    “Good. Now remember, you hold the key, you turn the key, so open your box now.”
     
    Did he really just ask me to open my box? I want to burst out laughing. I try to be serious.
     
    “It’s open,” I say, holding back a giggle, but in my