Chapter Four
Rachel
I woke up early, though I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. But that was normal for me. The insomnia and depression went hand in hand it seemed, causing a whole slew of problems for me. I hated nighttime because that was when my thoughts ran the wildest. They were less controlled in the night, and my fears swallowed me whole. The morning sun was always such a blessing. As soon as I’d see it, I’d either sleep for a couple of hours in peace or wake up completely and get out of bed.
On this day, I got up, walked out of my room, and went into the kitchen. I reached for the bottle of anti-depressants in the medicine cabinet in the kitchen. I didn’t really have a place in my bathroom and instead kept the bottle hidden behind the vitamins that I never took. There they were safely out of view of prying eyes.
Shaking the bottle, I frowned. Only one left. That was what I had to do today—go pick up another prescription. I had been up all night wondering what it was I’d have to the next day, and dreading it. I didn’t like to leave the house. Ever. Not even to pick up the medication that was supposed to be helping me. At that point, I had been on the meds for four months and never felt any different, not in the slightest. When I brought it up to my psychiatrist, she told me that I had to wait at least six months to really notice a difference.
She might be the expert, but I didn’t think she was right about that. It shouldn’t take that long. Especially not when the commercials said you should start feeling better within 30 days. Maybe when explaining how they worked, she forgot how popular that particular brand was and that it was on commercials all day long.
Dumping the last pill into my hand, I filled a glass with water and swallowed it. Then, dragging my feet to the bathroom, I started getting ready. I just wanted to get my new prescription and get back to my apartment, so I could…lay around like I did every other day.
Not wanting to fuss with makeup, I reassessed my hair in the mirror, fixing the lumps in my messy bun. I threw on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, with no idea when I’d worn them last, or washed them for that matter. It was good enough for me. Especially considering how awful I was feeling.
Slipping on my tennis shoes, I grabbed my purse and made my way out the door.
This was one of my least favorite errands, though I pretty much hated them all. The pharmacy was only three blocks away, so it didn’t require a taxi. Just a little bit of a walk. It was really the only time I went outside and did something. If I wasn’t picking up my prescription, then I was picking up a few groceries for myself.
The temporary alimony I received was more than enough to pay my bills for now, though it would come to an end soon enough. Since I only had to cook for one, I only shopped for one as well. Most of the time, I settled on frozen dinners and sandwich stuff, because it was quick and easy. There was no point in buying ingredients for actual meals when it was just me. I had no one else to cook for.
When the pharmacy became visible in the distance, I couldn’t help the sick feeling that hit me as I got closer. It was embarrassing for me to pick these up. The pharmacist knew me very well. He knew my name, address, phone number, and birthday, I was sure, by heart. And he knew exactly what medication I was on and why.
The worst time for me was when my prescription was increased, and I had to face him after that.
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to approach the automatic doors. They quickly slid open, and I walked inside. I made my way to the pharmacy counter at the back of the store, avoiding everyone’s eyes as I did so.
Eye contact with strangers was something I could not do. It made me feel like they could see right through me. Like they knew just what was going on in my head.
As it turned out, I was the only one by the pharmacy, as they had just opened and it was a Wednesday morning. It wasn’t really a popular time for people to pick things up or drop prescriptions off. So, I was relieved that no one was around.
“Hey, Rachel,” said the pharmacist, Sam.
“Hey, Sam,” I said. Making sure to avoid eye contact with him.
“Here to pick up your refill?” he asked.
I nodded my head. Every time I dropped off a new prescription, it came with three refills, so I only had to see my psychiatrist once every few months.
“This is your last re-fill,” he said as he pulled up my info on the screen.
“I know. I’m headed to see her soon,” I lied. It was so hard for me to make conversation with people. Especially small talk about essentially nothing, though the worst was this—when the topic was my own private business. I really hated talking about that.
“It’ll be about fifteen,” he said with a smile.
Even I had to admit that Sam was attractive enough. Sometimes I thought he was even being a little flirty with me, but I knew it was just because he knew what kind of meds I was on. He was being overly nice as to not offend me, and it was actually more bothersome than not.
He had dark hair with brown eyes and was at least six-one. He was the most attractive man to me only because he was the only man I ever saw, really. I wasn’t sexually attracted to him at all. It was more of an observation than anything.
Nodding at Sam, I proceeded to walk around the store. There were a few things I needed anyway, and I figured I might as well get them while I was here. It would be better than just wasting time doing nothing, and I always felt awkward when I sat there waiting for my prescription to be filled. It was easier and much more calming for me to just walk around the store.
Walking down the cereal aisle, I stood in front of the many boxes. I wasn’t sure what I was in the mood for. It seemed I was never sure about anything anymore. Choosing what I wanted to eat had almost become a daunting task in itself.
Unable to decide, I turned and walked away from the cereal; I didn’t eat breakfast much anyways. I didn’t need it. I walked over to the cold drink section and grabbed myself a Pepsi. I didn’t drink soda much, but when I did, it was always Pepsi, unless I was at a restaurant that didn’t have Pepsi. It was the only time I chose Coke.. A nice cold cola was like a special treat for myself. I then grabbed a four pack of toilet paper, some paper plates, plastic ware, and then some crackers and a few frozen dinners.
Hearing my name over the loudspeaker, I cringed. I hated that so much. To me, it was like everyone in earshot knew what my prescription was, though I knew that wasn’t true. I suppose there were worse prescriptions for me to worry about picking up. Like an anti-psychotic drug, or something to clear up some weird sexually transmitted disease.
“You know the drug facts,” Sam said, flashing another smile at me, as he rang up the bag that held my prescription. “Do you want to pay for the rest of that here?”
“Sure,” I said, as I put my other items down on the counter.
He rang my items up and presented me with the total: $237 dollars. I didn’t have very good insurance, and this prescription cost me $200 every month. It was steep, and I wasn’t even sure why I kept taking it.
“You know, Rachel, there are better options out there than this stuff,” Sam said.
“What do you mean?” I asked, figuring he was talking about the shit food I had grabbed.
“I mean the medication. There are other things that will help you more than these drugs.”
I gave him a small smile, though I was growing increasingly uncomfortable.
“I’m serious. There are natural herbs, plus exercising can really help, too.” As he was bagging up my items I really just wanted to run out of there and get far away. I didn’t want to be talking about any of these things, especially not with my pharmacist. I was going to have to find a new one. There was no way I could do this anymore. I just wanted someone who didn’t try to talk to me.
“I’ll have to do some research then,” I said, using my best fake smile.
“There’s a lot of information out there,” he said, lowering his voice. “I know I’m a pharmacist and should be telling you to take your medication so we can sell you more, but it’s all a joke. I seriously hate my job. I see all of these medications making people worse, and I just think that there’s got to be something else that could be done instead of forcing these pills down people’s throats.”
I smiled to be polite, unsure of what else to do.
“I’m rambling, sorry. Anyway, if you experience any side effects, you know to call your doctor. But you’ve been on them long enough now that you shouldn’t have issues with side effects at all.”
“Thanks,” I said, and grabbed my bags.
“Have a good day, Rachel,” he said with a smile.
“You too,” I said, and walked out of the store. I was relieved to be back outside and have the whole ordeal done and over with.
As I was walking back to my apartment, I noticed a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the window of a huge art gallery I had always sort of dreamed of working in a place like that. But that was before my life went to complete shit. That was when I loved my life, and I was happy. When I had hopes and dreams, and a life worth living. Now everything just seemed bleak.
I stared at the sign for a moment and thought of going inside to apply. But I was so tired from not getting any sleep the night before that I decided to apply later on. Maybe the next day or maybe the next week. I was going to do it, just not when I was holding so much stuff, and was so tired. I’d hate to go in there looking tired when I was trying to apply for a job. I just didn’t think that would come off okay.
Putting my things on the ground, I entered the number into my phone. I’d think about calling later to ask about the application process and find out more about what the position was. If it turned out to be too good to be true, I would apply right away.
Because maybe Sadie was right. Maybe getting a job would make me feel better, and less like I hated myself.
Gathering my bags, I continued walking toward my apartment. When I got there, I practically threw my apartment door shut. I was so glad to be home again, and felt even more exhausted than I had before I left.
Putting my groceries away, I was careful to hide my bottle of anti-depressants again. That taken care of, I sat on the couch and turned on a mindless TV show. One I had seen many, many times before, and I let myself zone out. I just wanted to forget about everything for a little while.
I didn’t want to think about medications or herbs or jobs. I just wanted to be by myself, and lost in my thoughts. This was where I felt the most comfortable.