The first thing I did when we got home was head for the kitchen. I was starving. Useless came in and sat on my feet, mindful of his floor cleaning duties.

I was mildly surprised that Alex didn't say anything, like 'sit down' or 'we need to talk'. He didn't even follow me. I went to the kitchen, he went upstairs, and that was that. Or so I thought.

I got out some bread and cheese, warmed up a skillet, and made a grilled cheese sandwich. This I garnished with some chips and a pickle. Useless followed me as I carried it out to the dining room. I sat down and tossed him a chip.

After a few minutes, Alex came downstairs, carrying a manila file folder. He sat down across from me and slid the file so that it was between us. Useless got up and sat by him. Somewhere along the line Useless had decided that Alex was the alpha here. Silly dog.

"Do you understand what you did tonight?" he finally asked.

I shrugged. "Sure. I saved my friend from sex trafficking." I ate a chip. "It was harder than I thought it would be."

"The House of the Vettii was an extremely lucrative investment property." He folded his arms and stared at me. "Cesare is angry."

"Jenny is my friend," I countered.

"I told you to call the police."

I ate another chip. "They were busy. I figured I'd help them out this one time."

"Alright." He pushed the folder over to me. "You should know you brought this on yourself."

"Brought what on myself?" I asked with a full mouth. It was a good sandwich. Rachel Ray had suggested switching the butter for olive oil. I considered making another. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

He ran his hand through his hair, then reached for my plate and threw it across the room. I watched as it shattered against the wall, shards of china and potato chips flying all over the place. I stared at it for a moment, then turned back to him. "Hey, I wasn't done with that," I told him. Useless whined and sat closer to my feet.

"Read," he said.

I ignored him and turned back to the shattered plate. "I'm serious. I wasn't done with that." Useless whined louder. I petted him on the head.

"Read. The. File." He crossed his arms and glared at me.

"Fine," I huffed and opened it up. Inside was a form titled Application for Involuntary Admission on Medical Certification Section 9.27 Mental Hygiene Law. Underneath the title, I read I hereby apply for the admission of Mary Siobhan McIver to the Creedmore Psychiatric Center in Queens, New York.

I stopped reading and looked up. "What is this?"

"It's an undated involuntary commitment form," he answered, a small smile playing on his lips. "Do I have your attention now?"

I started laughing. "You're going to commit me? You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm serious, Siobhan." He leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. "Look around you. This is an Upper West Side, five story, fully renovated townhouse complete with indoor lap pool and two car garage. Your clothes, your food, hell, even the dog – " he laughed "- are things 99.9% of the people in this city only dream of having. But you...you could give a shit." He locked eyes with me. "So therefore, I think you're out of your mind."

I blinked. "What, I'm not shallow, so therefore I must be crazy?"

"You lack impulse control," he countered, and ticked off on his fingers, "you demonstrate narcissistic and psychopathic behavior. You're violent, destructive, and have an unhealthy obsession with fire."

"Nobody's perfect," I replied, and glanced at the remains of my sandwich. "I'm still hungry."

"See here? This is exactly what I'm talking about." He rubbed his face. "Siobhan. You have been kicked out of your family. You have no family. You have no life skills. I am the only one that loves you enough to help you, but you keep acting out."

"So it's a challenge," I poo pooed. "I'll be fine."

"You blew up a building – "

"No, I didn't," I interrupted. "Con Ed did. Right?"

He leaned forward, his eyes black and dangerous. "I'll put it to you like this. You either stop this crap, or I'm sticking you in psychiatric facility."

Chilled, I returned my attention back to the form. Involuntary commitment requires the signature of two doctors; Alex had that, along with a diagnosis of narcissistic and psychopathic personality disorder. "Where'd you get the doctors?"

"Are you paying attention?" he countered. "Fuck the doctors. You change, or I commit you. That's it in a nutshell."

I went back to reading.

"As for doctors, there's one I want you to start seeing."

I looked up; his expression changed; now he was looking contemplative. "Believe it or not, I do understand. You had your hopes set on one thing, but now it's changed, and you can't let go." He reached for my hand; I pulled it away. "I know it seems like I'm doing this as a punishment, but it's not. I'm trying to help you."

I started laughing.

"Laugh all you want." He slumped in the chair. "I'm trying to mature you, but this is beyond me. You need professional help. If you won't work with me, then I will be forced to put you in a more structured environment."

"You're an asshole," I told him.

"Oh, okay – "

"You think I lack impulse control? I stopped my brother from engaging in sex with underage girls. I saved a friend from being forced into sex slavery." I stared at him. "That's not an impulse control issue, that's a rational reaction to outrageous immoral behavior."

He shook his head. "That's what I'm talking about. Siobhan, you don't even see where what you did was wrong."

"Because I wasn't!" I exclaimed. "My actions were morally justifiable –"

"Unlawful. They were unlawful and destructive." Alex interrupted.

"Something had to be done – "

"Not by you!" he yelled.

"Then by who?" I yelled back. "It's why I want to be a lawyer. You want to know why I hate all this? Why I'm not happy? Because I just got out of an interrogation room with cops who knowingly misrepresented the law. How often does that happen, Alex? People need someone to stand up for them, but nobody's willing." I started pounding on the table. "I WANT TO GO TO LAW SCHOOL. I WANT TO GO TO LAW SCHOOL. I WANT TO GO TO LAW."

"Baby, calm down..."

I picked up the form and tore it in half. "Fuck you, and your family, and my family, and go ahead, commit me and whatev..." My voice trailed off. Underneath the commitment form were a stack of pictures consisting of Special Agent Donnelly holding hands, laughing, and kissing the blonde woman who'd try to interrogate me when I first came here.

I felt the tear before I knew I was crying.

"He's engaged," Alex said, with surprising gentleness. "She's a federal agent as well. Based here in New York. Apparently, she's seeking a transfer to Chicago."

"You're enjoying this," I muttered.

"I'm not, Siobhan. I'm...baby, you had to know the truth. Cops lie. They all lie." He reached for my hands again; again, I pulled away. He threw up his hands. "Alright. But please know, baby, I didn't understand how much law school meant to you."

"I want to break up," I told him.

He sighed like he was collecting himself. "Siobhan, we're not going to break up. Look at me."

I hated when he did that. I lifted my eyes and stared at his scar.

"Right now, you have a choice. You can stay here if you agree to see the doctor and work on this with me. If you improve, then we can see about enrolling you into an undergraduate program. If you can handle that and your responsibilities here, then we'll talk about law school."

I wiped my eyes to keep my hands busy.

"If you refuse, or if your behavior indicates a refusal, I will have you committed."

"I want to break up," I repeated.

He rubbed his forehead. "Tell me that you at least understand that I can lock you up for the rest of your life, Siobhan. Tell me you understand that."

I picked up the two pieces of paper, put them back together, and started reading over them again. "What's the appeals process on this?"

He reached over, picked up the floral centerpiece, and threw it against the wall. The dog yelped and ran under the couch in the living room.

I stared at him, suddenly unsure of what to do. "Stop it, Alex," I muttered. "Stop scaring the dog."

He leaned forward, his hands on the table. "Siobhan. Even if you managed to get out of the facility on appeal, you will still have been committed to a psychiatric facility. Think about it. You will not be allowed to practice law. Hell, you won't even be able to be a flight attendant. You will carry around with you for the rest of your life the stigma of mental incompetence."

I looked at the papers. I knew what he was saying. "I don't understand you, Alex. There are millions of women in this city alone who would happily do anything for you. They're beautiful, and sexual, and whatever. You can have any of them. Hell, you can have all of them. Why bother with me?"

He appeared genuinely surprised by my question. "Because I love you, Siobhan."

I held up a section of paper. "Is this love? Because I don't think it's love."

"Yes, it is love, Siobhan. I love you enough to help you, even if it means you hate me."

I considered. "Oh, now that's good," I said. "It's bullshit, but it's good."

"It's not bullshit, Siobhan. You can't keep behaving like this. You're out of control." He took a deep breath. "Everything I do, I do for you. Why can't you see that?"

I glared at him, but my mind was fuzzy. I yawned.

"Baby," he purred, "I love you." He took my hand. "I have loved you all of your life. I want to marry you, I want a family with you, and I want to provide you with a life of comfort and ease."

"If you love me, why would you commit me?"

"We're talking in circles, baby." He stretched his arms above his head. "It's late. Let's go to bed."

This was bullshit. He was bullshit, and I was done. "My answer's no."

"Come again?"

"You heard me," I replied. "No."

His face went expressionless. "Siobhan, don't test me."

"I'm moving out. I'll take Useless with me."

He half smiled, then pulled out his phone from his breast pocket and dialed a number. "Yes. I'm going to need an ambulance. My fiancé is acting erratic."

"Alex, you're bullshit," I said, but I felt that chill go down my spine.

He raised his finger and shushed me. "She's troubled. I already have an involuntary commitment order. I didn't want to use it, but she may be beyond my help."

I felt my heart pounding in my chest. He was serious. "Stop it, Alex."

"Hang on." He dropped the phone. "What was that?"

"Stop it."

"You're not willing to work," he told me. "This is what I have to do for your own good."

I could hear the person at the other end of the call asking if Alex was in danger. "I'll work," I muttered.

"What was that?"

"I'll work."

He narrowed his eyes. "One more time. You can do better than that."

"I'll work at..." I stopped. "Wait, what am I working at?"

"Oh my God." He ended the call. "You and I are working together towards a strong marriage and a bright future."

I went back to studying the pattern on the table.

"Tell me," he chided.

"I'll work," I muttered.

"What will you work at?"

"On creating a family with you," I replied. "Is that right?"

"Close enough." He shrugged and yawned. "And what will happen should you ever stop working?"

I felt dead inside. "You'll pump me full of drugs until I'm a drooling incontinent idiot."

"No, Siobhan. I will get you the help you need so that you can live a healthy and productive life." He yawned again and stoop up. "This has been a long night. I'm going to bed." He rubbed the back of his head.

"I hate you, Alex."

He gave me this paternal, patronizing look. "I know right now you do, baby. It doesn't matter. I love you, and if there was any other way..." his voice trailed off, and he reached over the table to try to stroke my cheek.

I flinched and pulled away.

He headed towards the stairs, then stopped. "Oh, by the way, you should know that if anything happens to me, Cesare will lock you up and throw away the key." He laughed. "I mean, I want you to mature out of this, Siobhan, but Cesare? He's comfortable with the idea that you live pumped up on Thorazine for the rest of your natural life."

I flipped him off.

"Right. Okay." He climbed a few steps, then called down. "You know you don't stay angry, Siobhan. You'll be over it in a few weeks. I can wait you out."

"I'm going to training tomorrow," I yelled up at him defiantly.

He stopped. "Oh, yeah. The flight attendant thing." He chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah. You go ahead and do that. We've set up a betting pool on how long you last." He continued up the stairs and I heard the bedroom T.V. turn on.

I whistled for Useless, then walked out onto the patio. It was chilly, but I could sleep out here. I was exhausted, and I couldn't even really understand what had just happened. I curled up in a lounge chair with Useless at my feet.

There wasn't any reason to cry. Everything would work out. It always did. Besides, I had to get up early. It was a work day.

_____ * _____ * _____ * _____ * _____

Alex. That's all I got. Alex. Poor Siobhan.

Thank you so much for taking time to read Siobhan's story! I look forward to your comments, and if you liked it, please remember to vote!

©Copyright Liz Charnes May 2018

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