gracestaple-blog

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evholt‌:

“It’s alright. It happens to the best of us.” Evan had his fair share of college horror stories where he’d had to care for his drunk friends who had conveniently forgot to eat. “You need something good and starchy. That’ll help you sober up. That and water.” He was fully aware of his dad friend status. He turned to the bartender. “Can we get an order of fries over here? Thanks.” He was early for his meeting with one of Tulpa’s historical society members anyway. He had time. 

Grace smiled shyly at the man, embarrassed, but equally grateful. It had been a long time since a stranger, or anyone, had cared this much, to even check on her. “Thank you. I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing.” Once the fries were in front of her, she raised one to her mouth, but before she could eat it, she felt her stomach convulsing. Oh god, she thought, then said it out loud, and clapped a hand to her mouth, scrambling out of her seat. There was a queue for the toilets, so she bolted out of the door and into the streets, where she emptied the meagre contents of her stomach onto the pavement. Yes, she thought, this is now officially the most embarrassing night of my life.

[gracestaple-blog]

evholt‌:

“You sure?” he asked, just to make sure that she was truly okay and not simply telling him that. His wife could be jumpy and anxious, so he was used to this kind of behavior. Lindy’s PTSD manifested that way sometimes. “Have you eaten anything?” He knew it was a weird question, but perhaps she’d been drinking on an empty stomach and it all had hit her at once. 

To her horror, she felt tears burning in her eyes and pressure building in her throat. “I - I’ve just had a long - a long day is all.” She turned back to the bar and wiped away the tear that had fallen, cursing herself internally. She really had drank too much, and now she was losing her fragile grip on control. She turned back at the man’s next words. “I - I’m not sure.”

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allrightalbright‌:

“Damn,” Emerson replied solemnly. “You know he probably didn’t mean it. Has he been having trouble getting it under control? I know it’s rough but at least it’s a consolation that it’s the illness talking and they don’t mean it.” Having had her own little break with sanity year ago she often felt a sort of kinship with kids who were having trouble learning how to manage their illnesses. “Do you think that he would benefit from hospitalization? A short term stay might help him out.” Emerson sighed, she could tell that it all had weighed heavily on Grace.  There were times it was difficult not to take your job personally. In fact the very few tangible attachments to people Emerson had were with her patients. “It’ll be okay. You’ll get it worked out for the better. Sometimes you have to speak it into existence, but there you go. I’ll speak it for you. It’ll work out.”

Grace nodded slowly, choosing to ignore her own feelings. “He really can’t control it. But his parents are opposed to inpatient treatment, and I’m not sure he’s far enough gone to be mandatorily placed there.” She felt her shoulders slump. She had gone into psychology for exactly this reason, to help those patients who were endangering themselves and others, but the cases were difficult to handle - they dredged up old feelings she in no way wanted to confront. Then she flicked her head up and looked at Emerson when the other woman spoke again. “I’m fine, I don’t know what you mean. I’m just concerned for a patient.” Her feelings sounded weakly veiled, and she beat herself internally for displaying any vulnerability.

[gracestaple-blog]

evholt‌:

Evan hadn’t meant to startle the woman, but he wasn’t aware that he had been walking entirely too close to her. However, he could hardly help their proximity due to the bar being more crowded than usual. The sound of the shattering glass caused him to jolt. “I am so sorry,” was the first words that came out of his mouth in a nervous rush. 

“I’m fine,” he said, looking at her face. He noticed her eyes were wild with anxiety. “Are you okay?”

Grace shook her head, slightly fuzzy from the alcohol she had already consumed. “No, no. Don’t you apologise, it was my fault.” Her breathing still hadn’t returned to normal, and she placed a hand on her chest to steady herself. She looked up again at the man’s question. “Hm? Yes, I’m - I’m fine.” She picked up her other glass with shaking hands, and downed the remainder of the liquid in there.

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allrightalbright‌:

“No need to cut me any slack. Really, it’s no excuse. I need to compartmentalize better or something,” she said before stopping to take a sip of her own drink. Her weariness was blatant, but she wasn’t about to admit it to anyone. She’d spent most of her life being the subject of pity and sometimes she felt like she’d spend the rest of her life that way. “I just wanted you to know that there was a reason behind me being the world’s shittiest colleague this week. Next week I’ll be a little less shitty.”

Emerson desperately wanted a subject change when her eyes landed on the file that Grace has opened. “So, seen anything interesting lately patient wise?” She figured that talking about work in a more positive or proactive way might be the best way to segue into different conversation and deflect it all away from her. 

At Emerson’s question, Grace felt a lump rise in her throat, and took a sip of coffee to quash it back down.

“I’m seeing a heavily schizophrenic boy this afternoon.” She weighs up in her head whether to tell her the rest, moulds her face into an impassive mask before she does. “He threatened to kill me last time.” She wasn’t sure why she said it, but it had been bottled up for a week and she just needed to tell someone, get it out.

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Grace rarely found herself in the bar, preferring to drink in the privacy of her own home. But something about tonight was different. She didn’t trust herself to be alone.

Her hands had started shaking mid afternoon, while treating a young schizophrenic boy who had threatened to kill her. She had stumbled over her words and wrapped up the session quickly with a lump in her throat. She downed a Valium with water, attempting to calm herself, but had been unable to return her heart rate to normal. 

Now she was a few drinks in, and rather than having calmed down she was feeling more anxious than before. Grace was startled by someone behind her, and knocked her tumbler to the floor where it shattered. Closing her eyes, she placed her head in her hands and took a few deep breaths, before turning to face the person who had approached her.

“I’m so sorry, are you alright?”

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allrightalbright‌:

Emerson smiled, thanking whatever powers that be that it was Grace. “Why not the full list? I’ve got time to listen. Hell, I’ve pretty much got a degree in it,” she joked. Emerson was shocked to find herself actually smiling a bit. “If it’s about the paperwork, I promise I am doing it tonight. I know I’m the worst about it, but lately things have been worse than usual. Recurring night terrors sort of thing. I’m not making an excuse. It just is what it is.” She shrugged. Every so often when it was nearing the spring months it would happen. Her mind loved revisiting that night when it’s anniversary was fast approaching. 

Grace couldn’t help herself feeling a pang of sympathy for the girl, and a ball of guilt settling in her chest, but kept her face impassive. Of course, it was nearing the anniversary of her tragedy, and Grace was nagging her constantly. She could understand it - the summer was always a difficult time for her, and often unbidden she found herself waking up screaming and shaking throughout the year.

“Of course. I’m sorry. Whenever you can, I know it’s hard.”

A shadow passed over her face, and she looked down into her coffee as though some comfort might lie in the shoddily-executed leaf design. She flicked open one of the files for something to do, reviewing a patient she was seeing that afternoon.

[gracestaple-blog]

allrightalbright‌:

When Emerson went out she went out by herself. She was used to it, and even preferred it. She often brought a book with her not only because she enjoyed reading but also because it provided her with a shield from the outside world. She tried her best not to engage with people if she could. Yet here she was in one of her normal haunts, the coffee shop, when she felt eyes on her. It was an uncanny gift that she was able to tell when people were staring. She put the book down and sighed. “Can I help you with something?” she said before even turning her head to look at the person. 

Grace smirked to herself slightly, slipping into the table next to her colleague’s. “I can think of a whole number of things you could do to help me, Emerson. Do you want the shortened list or the full version?” The latte in her hands was still too hot, and she quickly placed it down on the formica surface of the table lest it burn her fingers, along with the stack of files in her arms, sighing. She had always enjoyed the actual treating of patients, but the paperwork made her miserable in a way that made her wish Emerson was slightly more on top of her’s.

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