Bye Daddy

By Michael F. Mercurio



He was completely frozen – full on, total lockdown mode.  And the more he thought about getting up and going out, the worse his panic became.  It was impossible for him to even accomplish anything around the house when he was like this.

His wife, per usual, berated him for it.

“Will you at least take care of the dishes?  They’ve been sitting in the sink since yesterday.”

“I will.  Later,” Stan replied.

“You said that yesterday,” she stated with exasperation.  “I have to get to work, and then pick up Liddy from school.  I expect them to be washed by the time I get home.”

“Yeah.  Fine.”  The forty-one year old tried desperately to continue staring at the television, refusing to look at her.

He hated himself.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” she mumbled, and headed out the door with her keys in hand.  Stan cringed when she slammed the door.  Then, he continued to stare numbly at the television, not really watching it.

Rarely did he ever really watch it.  It was simply an action to convince his mind that it was preoccupied, so it wouldn’t wander to other things.  Things like what he was, what he should be doing, and what he wasn’t doing.  When he thought about things like that, the tighter he locked up.

Yesterday, while his wife was at work, his mother had come over.  At her behest, he had made it as far as the door.  He even opened it on his own.  That was as far as he had gotten, however.

Per usual, she pushed her way past him, and nagged him about how he needed to get out of the house more.

“I hardly ever even get to see you, you know.  And it’s getting harder for me to come around these days.  But look at me!  Even at my age, I still manage to get out of the house!”

“Yeah Mom, I know.”

“You can’t stay locked up in here forever you know.  Even at my age, I go out every day.  The key is to stay active!”

“Yes Mom.  I know.”

“When was the last time you washed up a little?  You look like a mess.”

“I just…haven’t been feeling well.”

She rushed over to him and put her hand on his forehead.  “You don’t feel like you have a fever or anything.  Is it about Janet?  Are you depressed?”

“No Mom, it has nothing to do with Janet.”

“Well then, what is it?”

“It’s nothing Mom.  I just don’t feel well.”

“Well lie back down then.  I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Mom, don’t do that.  Janet will be home soon with Liddy.”

“So?  They can eat too.  Or how about you cook for them?  It’s not like you’re working.”

Stan winced at that.  She was getting under his skin, no matter how tightly he tried to close everything off.

“Mom!  Look, I said don’t worry about it, okay?  I can cook my own goddamn dinner in my own goddamn house.  You don’t have to come by every day to take care of me, or my marriage!”

He regretted saying it even as he started it, but it was like a floodgate that he just couldn’t hold back.  As a result, it came out much louder than he intended.  The look of hurt on her face was immediate.

Saying nothing, she turned and walked out the front door, slamming it behind her.  He winced at that, too – just like today.  It seemed wincing was becoming a permanent facial expression lately.

Later that day, spurred on by white anger at himself, he gave it an honest attempt.  Like always, he made it as far as the door.  He had it open, and managed to move one foot outside his sanctuary.  Almost immediately, the openness of the world outside flooded him, and he began to shake all over.  He felt as though he were on the edge of a cliff, with one foot hovering mid-step to his death.

He quickly closed the door, hyperventilating.  He made his way to the couch, sat down, stared at nothing for a few minutes, and finally broke down, sobbing at the empty house.

Today wasn’t like yesterday, fortunately.  Sure, in the back of his mind, both his wife and his mother hated him.  They screamed inside his brain, insulting him – calling him names like “loser” and “bum.”  But, he was able to numb it today.  He found that it was getting slightly easier to disassociate himself from reality, so that he wouldn’t have to think, and he wouldn’t hear the disparaging voices.  Any sudden movement on his part however, and something would break through – contracting his insides even further. 

Alone, sitting on his couch, he felt like a prisoner in his own home, with invisible guardsmen watching him from the shadows.

He jumped up, closed all the curtains, and made sure all the lights were on.  The openness of the place wouldn’t bother him if he could see every contour of the walls.  Then, he returned to the couch, and closed his eyes while he waited for his wife to return home with their twelve-year-old daughter.

Then he quickly popped them open, because the nothingness behind his own eye-lids scared the crap out of him.  He wasn’t getting much sleep these days.

Hours passed.  Where was she, anyway?  School would have been let out for awhile now, and she’s never late picking up Liddy.  No one had called.  Maybe she finally got fed up with him and took Liddy away to a hotel.  He would get a Dear John letter in the mail tomorrow and it would say something like “You’ll never even get this letter you idiot, because you never leave the fucking house to check the mail!  I’m leaving you!”  Thoughts like this ran in circles in his mind as he rocked back and forth slightly on the couch.  At the same time – as most thoughts often occurred to him, and he had trouble figuring out which one to look at when there were more than five of them together – he wondered if such an event would really bother him.  As he disconnected himself further from everything, he wasn’t sure if he would even feel anything if she did try to leave.  Or if his own mother walked off a cliff.  And he hated himself for that.  And then the thought of a “cliff” got mixed in there somehow, scared him, and the whole cycle repeated itself as he began to rock faster on the couch.

And then the door finally opened.  Janet poked her head into the living room.  “Honey?”

He looked up in surprise, awkwardly trying to compose himself, mainly for the sake of expecting his daughter – the one person he had left who his brain hadn’t yet written off as a lost cause.

He cleared his throat and stuttered nervously.  “H-hey.  Welcome home.  Late getting out?”

“Well, not exactly.  Listen, can we talk for a second?  I have Liddy waiting out in the car.”

This was it.  He just knew this was the part where she would say “I’m taking her and leaving you because you’re a fucking forty-one-year-old loser who can’t even leave the house without freaking out.”

“Um….yeah.  Okay.  What’s up?”

She closed the door behind her, and came over to him, sitting down on the couch next to her husband.  She gently patted his knee and began.

“I…I don’t want you to be mad.  But, I think you need this.  It’s been going on a long time, and we’re all worried about you.  I…I got you some help.”

Some help?  He blinked, confused.  He was still fixated on the “I don’t want you to be mad” part, and just assumed that she was telling him that she was leaving.  Then, as the disassociation settled in, he processed the rest of what she had said.

“What do you-…?”

“I…spoke to a therapist today.  It was kind of a last minute thing.  I was on my way to work, but at the last minute I decided to call out.  I was surprised, because I was able to get ahold of someone right away.”

“Wait, a therapist?  What, for me?  Janet, you know I hate that kind of-“

“I know, I know.  But, honey…you’ve been getting worse.  A lot worse.  He’s waiting in the car right now with Liddy and your mother.”

“My mother?!  Did she put you up to this?!”

“No Stan, she didn’t.  In fact she said, and I quote, ‘My son doesn’t need his head shrinked by some quack.  He needs to grow up and get off his ass.’”

That sounded like his mom alright.

“Janet, I-“

“Stan,” she interrupted him.  “We’re worried about you.  All of us.  Your agoraphobia is costing you everything.  Don’t you want to live your life?  To see your daughter grow up?  She had a soccer game a week ago, and you couldn’t stand the thought of sitting on the bleachers under an open sky.”

It was true.  The very prospect scared the crap out of him.  In his completely illogical mind, there was nothing to stop him from being sucked up into the sky, never to be seen again.  Especially from the top bleacher.

He put his head in his hands, and quietly cried – utterly humiliated, doing it in front of his wife.

She held him and rocked him.  “Shhh…shhh….it’s okay.”

After a few minutes had passed and he calmed down, she said “Stay right here,” and walked out the door.

Shortly after, there was a knock at the door, and a large, balding man poked his head through it.  “Stan Larson?”

Embarrassed, Stan responded, looking up.  “Um…yeah.  Come on in, I guess.”

The man entered, closing the door behind him.  Shaking Stan’s hand from behind the couch, he introduced himself.  “My name is Brian Callen.  I’m a licensed doctor.  ‘Head Shrinker’, if you prefer.  That’s what your mother called me, anyway.  Charming woman,” he said as he smiled.

“Um…yeah.  Sorry about that.  She can be a little…”

“Ah, no need.  We actually had a very nice chat.  She’s refreshingly down to earth.  Loves you to pieces too, you know.  Mind if I sit down?”

Stan gestured, and he sat on the opposite side of the couch next to him.

Crossing his legs, he continued.  “They all do, actually.  You’ve got an incredible support system.”

“Are they…?”

“They’re all in your wife’s car.  I told them I wanted to talk to you first before they come and see you.”

“Listen…um…Doctor.  I have to tell you, all of this is more than a little embarrassing for me.”

“Oh pashaw.  Would you be embarrassed if you had a cold and had to take some cough medicine for it?”

“Well no, but this is a bit different.  And it’s not just you being here that embarrasses me.  It’s everything.”

“You mean like being forty-one years old and not being able to work because you can’t leave the house?”

Irritated, Stan replied “Yeah.  Something like that.”

“Look, Stan- can I call you Stan?”  He continued before he could respond.  “Stan, it may surprise you to know that your condition is pretty common.  Forget the age thing, forget the job thing, forget the pride thing.  It happens to some people, and sometimes there’s just nothing you can do about it.  So stop blaming yourself for everything.  It isn’t your fault that you’re agoraphobic.  Just like it wouldn’t be your fault if you caught the flue.”

Stan blinked at him, confused.  “Aren’t you a shrink?  Aren’t you supposed to say things like ‘Well that’s interesting.  How does that make you feel?’ and not really say anything at all?”

“Hmm.  Interesting.  And how does that make you feel, Stan?” he joked.

Stan chuckled, despite himself.  Even as a complete, introverted basket-case, the infectious eccentricity of the unorthodox man somehow managed to get a smile out of him.

“Okay.  So I’m agoraphobic.  Now what?”

“Now, we call the rest of your family in here, they each tell you how much they love you, and then together we push your ass out of the house.”

“Wait, what?!  Um…!  That’s all a little fast, isn’t it?  I mean…I thought therapy sessions were supposed to take months!

“Well Stan, normally it would.  But your wife’s insurance policy isn’t covering this, and she doesn’t have a lot to work with.  SO…we’re going to get you back to ‘normal’ as quickly as we can.”

Was this guy serious?  It sounded insane.  No real therapist would try to rush something along like this.  My god, Stan thought.  He really is a quack!  And both his wife and his mother were on board with this!

“Okay Stan, just wait right there.  I’ll go tell your kin that they can come inside.  That is unless, you want to go on out there and tell them yourself,” he joked in poor taste.

Stan was beginning to like this man a lot less.

As “Doctor” Callen shut the door behind him, Stan panicked.  He couldn’t believe what was happening.  Somewhere in his mind, he knew that none of this was really a big deal.  All he had to do was step outside.  It’s not like it would kill him.  What was he panicking about?  But they were practically shoving him out there.  And his mind was screaming at him not to let them.  Outside:  Bad.  Inside:  Good.  Maybe they were all against him.  Maybe they were all secretly plotting his demise.  Even his daughter Liddy, who gave him hugs every day and told him she loved him.  Maybe all of them were out to get him.

He forced himself to make the room stop spinning, and got a grip – reminding himself that he wasn’t always like this.  There was a time in his life when he used to always go outside.  The trees and sky were welcoming, and other people he walked past were not all turning their heads toward him, grinning mischievously like they wanted him to die.

My god, he thought yet again.  I really do need help.  And so, he figured the best thing he should do is just shut up and trust his family.  After all, by right, his wife should have gotten fed up and left him by now.  Instead, he broke down in front of her like a simpering pussy, and she comforted him.  Obviously, she loved him and wasn’t trying to kill him.  She didn’t think of him as a pathetic freak like he did.  Maybe if his agoraphobia wasn’t making him such an insomniac, he wouldn’t be as paranoid and self-loathing as he was now.  As he analyzed it further, he couldn’t help but be amused by the “chain” of things wrong with his brain, one thing causing another, causing another.  What was that song about the woman who swallowed a fly?  “And then she diiiied...” he nearly sang out loud.  He stopped himself because the ending scared him, and suddenly the relevancy was lost in the myriad of thought.

His train was interrupted by his wife finally walking in, followed by sweet Liddy, followed by their mother, and finally followed by the unorthodox doctor.  For some reason, his mind decided to focus on the doctor bringing his portly frame through the door, rather than the sudden, unexpected family gathering.  He had to keep himself from laughing out loud at the large man.  That would have been embarrassingly rude.

He looked sheepishly at his loved ones, and then Liddy came up to him and hugged him.

“Hi Daddy.”

“Hi Kiddo.  How was school?”

“It was okay.  How are you feeling?”

“I’m much better now, sweetheart.  But um…there sure are a lot of people here now.”

She giggled.  “Yeah.  Mom wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, she sure did.”

“Well then,” started the doctor.  “Now that that’s out of the way, shall we get to work?”

Janet looked at her husband, and then at Doctor Callen.  “Um…Doctor?  Isn’t it a little soon for that?  He’ll s-…I mean, he’s a bit fragile.”

“I agree with Brian, Janet,” his mother stated flatly.  “I think it’s high time we straighten him out right this second.  It will do him a world of good.”

“But...!” Stan protested.

“Now now, Stan,” said the doctor.  “Your family here loves you, and they only want what’s best for you.  And remember, I am a licensed doctor.  So trust me when I tell you that no medical harm will come to you by stepping outside your house.  What you have is completely in your mind.  It’s not your fault by any means, but you do have the ability to overcome it.  Think of your daughter.”

Liddy, standing in front of Stan on the couch, looked at him.  “Please Daddy?  I want to be able to go out and do things with you…just like we used to!”

That broke the camel, or whatever it was that Stan’s brain was riding.  “O-okay honey.  I’ll…I’ll try.”

His wife smiled at him, helped him to his feet, and hugged him.  “I know you can do it, honey.  I believe in you.  All of us do.”

His mother chimed in, “We’re proud of you, Kid.  We’re proud of you, and we love you.”  The forty-one year old winced at that, but forced a smile.

Taking a deep breath, he conceded.  “Okay Doctor.  Just…do me a favor and…I don’t know.  Hang onto me or something?”

“I can only open the door for you, Neo.  It is you who must step through it,” replied the obese doctor, lamely trying to quote The Matrix.

“Doctor…where did you say you got your medical degree again?”

“Night school.  Don’t worry about it.  Out.”

Stan sighed.  The “doctor’s” bad humor notwithstanding, did put him at ease somewhat.

He took another breath.  He opened the door himself, despite Callen’s movie quote.

The sun was setting, and it would be dark soon.  The open air from the door hit Stan in the face, and made him shiver.  It wasn’t cold, but he shivered nonetheless.  He closed his eyes.  Bad idea.  He opened them.  Not much better idea.  Okay, don’t look up.  Whatever you do, don’t look at the open sky.  He looked down at his feet.  He took a tentative step forward.  And then another.  He held onto the guard rail of the short steps leading down to the pavement.  His shaking hand made the metal rail rattle.

“You’re doing it, honey!” his wife exclaimed.

“Go Daddy!” his daughter joked.

He reached the bottom step, gritted his teeth, and forcibly wrenched his own hand away from the railing.  Finally, he took another step toward the open street, a full foot away from the four concrete stairs.

He breathed.  Then forced himself to look forward, then turned his head back toward his family.  He was visibly shaking, but he did it.  He was outside.  “O-okay,” he stuttered.  “I’m out…side now.  Um…Can I come back in?”

“You’re doing great, Stan,” the doctor boomed.

“Good job, Kid!” exclaimed his mother.

Sighing, Stan took another step forward, and then faltered.  He began to shake uncontrollably.  “Okay, um…that’s enough I think.  I’d like to go back inside for a bit.”

He looked behind him and his family was standing outside with him, smiling.

“Just a little further, Daddy.  You can do it!”

Emboldened by his daughter, he took two more tentative steps forward, then three, then four.  Finally he was across the street.  “I did it!” he shouted.  He looked back and saw his family on the other side.  They were all smiling at him with joyous approval.

At least…he thought it was joyous approval.  It was a little hard to tell from across the street.  He thought he saw…no, that can’t be right.  It was probably the setting sun shining in his face.

He began to walk back toward them, and then stopped.  What the-….huh?!

His left foot wouldn’t touch the ground for some reason.  His wife grinned, and the fat doctor put his meaty arm around her.  His right foot failed to touch ground as well.

“H-hey!  HEY!!” Stan shouted in confusion and fear.  He began to rise off the ground.  He watched in horror as the doctor kissed his wife’s cheek and she grinned maliciously.  His mother grinned.  Even Liddy, his little girl, had a sickeningly evil smile pasted on her face.  They were laughing at him.  He began to rise further.

“Bye Daddy!” Liddy called out to her father, and waved to him as he was sucked into the sky.

He screamed.

And then he was gone.

Copyright 2013
Michael F. Mercurio