I rode with George down to Auburn this afternoon. George was in fine form and was cutting up and acting silly. I was hesitant to ride in George’s beat up, old Dodge Diplomat that far, but it got us there and back. I thought it was going to fly apart going down the interstate at seventy miles per hour. It certainly sounded like it was.
I and George ate supper at the Western Sizzlin’ in Opelika just up the interstate from Auburn. We both ordered sirloin steaks and a baked potato. The waitress was acting very flirty with me and actually gave me her phone number written down on a piece of paper. She told me to call her tonight so we could get to know each other better. I am so shy though and probably won’t call seeing that I am coming off the heels of another failed relationship.
On the ride home, George asked me all kinds of questions about my mental illness. I only revealed its true nature to him recently. He says I can act strange sometimes and I explained to him why.
“Do you hear and see shit?” George asked.
“Sometimes,” I replied. “Especially when I am not taking my medications.”
“What do you see?”
“I see what I call ghosting,” I replied. “Everything has an aura around it.”
“Doesn’t that freak you out?” George then asked.
“Sometimes it does,” I said. “I am pretty used to it though. I often see what looks like black and white holograms of cats laying around the house.”
“Damn, that’s freaky,” George replied.
“Yeah, that is why I take a lot of medications,” I told George. “Sometimes the medications are worse than the disease especially the time they put me on Haldol. I thought I was going to jump out of my skin.”
“I think psychiatry is a bunch of bullshit,” George replied.
“Well, psychiatry changed my life for the better,” I said. “I wouldn’t be able to do what we did today if it were not for my medications.”
George then swung into Perlis’ Truck Stop to buy some beer and corn chips.
“I am driving,” I told him as he walked back to the car.
“A six pack is not going to get me drunk,” George said.
“Well, I sure as hell ain’t taking any chances,” I said as I climbed into the driver’s seat as George handed me his keys. “Hell, you don’t even have a license and shouldn’t be driving anyway.”
The rest of our ride home was uneventful and quiet as George drank his beer, ate his Fritos, and we listened to the radio. I dropped George off at his house and walked the rest of the way home. Man, was it a cold walk that I hadn’t planned on. I only had a light jacket with me. I was glad to be inside and turned the heat on high and have been basking in its warmth all evening.