Chaos Theory: Phase 3

Andy’s pretty sure the only reason his dear ol’ dad didn’t throttle him (to death) the moment he opened his eyes is that Bibi happened to walk up, kaapi in hand, and say, “Ah, the memory of being young and how it keeps us humble. Wouldn’t you agree, Charlie?”

Bibi, in fact, might’ve done even more than save Andy’s literal life: he’s got a feeling that youthful-memory recall she triggered for Dad is the sole reason he’s allowing Andy to—

“It’s arguably the foremost classic fighting game to ever grace a gaming console.”

“So, there are twelve buttons and two joystick dealies on this thing? Piece of cake. Don’t forget, Walty, I live for a good algorithm. You’ll win the first couple rounds, but it won’t take me long to figure out the button combos and permutations.”

The game loads, and then they get to the character-choosing screen, and she balks.

“Clearly these game designers never heard of a sports bra.” She shakes her head. “Misogyny at its finest. Now I’m really gonna kick your butt.”

Shelbi’s so good she even figures out three—THREE!—fatality- inducing moves Andy didn’t know existed.

Sabotage is the only option.
When the big rumbly voice says “FINISH HIM” for the twelfth time in a row (Seriously?!), Andy drops his controller, jumps on her, and starts tickling.

She shrieks and says, “Stop! Stop! You win!” and, victory secured, Andy relents.

Then, to Andy’s utter shock (and slight dismay because he is not ready), Shelbi Augustine grabs his face and kisses him.

Which makes Shelbi think about some of the ways “love” is described in books and music and poetry and stuff—the being “crazy in” it and “taken over by” it and “not being able to resist” it, and the fact that it’s frequently likened to “madness.”

“Pshhh…you think I would go through this with someone else?”
He laughed, but she’d meant that. Because as wonderful as this feels at times, it’s also excruciating.

As she closes her eyes, something she’s been trying to ignore for weeks drifts up to the front of her frazzled mind: Walter’s drinking.

In a nutshell, she explained that there are a LOT of brain chemicals involved in romantic love...adrenaline, serotonin, oxytocin, cortisol, testosterone, dopamine, epinephrine, norepinephrine, phenylethylamine...some go up, some go down, some spike during specific interactions (like kissing) while others drop.

Well, I’m having to be super diligent about keeping a consistent sleep schedule.

And full disclosure: talking to you and being around you feels REALLY good.

In addition to the very bizarre insta-bromance (“This whole thing is obviously kismet since we’re both named Charles,” Dr. Augustine said as he and Charlie sat checking their calendars to figure out when they could go ziplining together), feeling how peaceful things can be when everyone is on the same page lit a spark that caught Andy off guard: he really misses his mom and wants to smooth things over with her.

Andy sees Mr. Locke’s car before he sees Mom’s, and just like that, all his mend the relationship good-feels dissipate like wisps of steam.

In this moment, he’d like to turn his bike around and scrap the whole mother/son reconciliation thing.

Andy takes a few seconds to go over the little spiel in his mind one last time, and then heads toward the office.

The door is cracked, and he gets a little burst of fortitude when he hears her laugh again from the other side of it.

Andy can see the vein in Dad’s neck bulging like it does when he’s fighting the urge to throttle his beloved only son.

Andy shuts his eyes, trying to remember…something. Anything, really. Hopefully it just makes him look like he’s devastated and needs a moment to process.

It’s like a sensei punch right in the sternum.

“Baby, my daughter is an incredible young lady, and it’s imperative that the people she lets in are able to take her circumstances seriously. Now, I don’t say that to shame her. There’s nothing shameful about one’s brain chemicals getting a bit out of whack, and from the sound of it, yours are a little off at the moment too. I just need you to understand that being a positive force in her life will require a certain level of personal stability. And I think you might need some help of your own.”

Shelbi’s dad and I try not to meddle too much in her personal life because that wouldn’t be fair to her, but I will say you’re not likely to see or hear from her for a bit.

Disoriented.
It’s strange to wake up in a place that feels, smells, and sounds very different than the one where you remember lying down, but even stranger is knowing that the moment you open your eyes, you’re going to burst into tears.

Like full-on sob session impending. You can feel it as surely as you feel the ache in your side where you added a few rungs to your ladder.

Where before there was just this nebulous urge to cry, now there’s anger and sadness and hurt and shame.

You’re going to be transferred to the pediatric psychiatry ward tomorrow morning. Dr. Douglass asked them to keep you for a few days as you adjust to your new medication regimen.