Erin

The flight was uneventful except for this vivid dream of a faceless stranger. His hands touching me sent a shock wave of pleasure through my limbs. I didn’t have to see him to know the physical dance between us was going to be magical.

I heard voices, but they were muffled and hard to understand. Some words did bleed through, but nothing to wake me from the sleeping pill prescribed to me for my anxiety of flying. I was always afraid one of the engines was going to flameout and would send us plummeting into the ocean below.

It was an unfounded fear, but I couldn’t help to imagine those oxygen masks springing to life from above. The screams of anguish and those begging to god for forgiveness were echoing in my ears. The only way to find any kind of peace was to sleep through it.

I recalled someone mentioning turbulence, but even that wasn’t enough to pull me from the darkness of my slumber. I finally opened up my eyes when the wheels were touching down. We made our way to the hangar. I didn’t remember putting on my seat belt, but it would stand to reason one of the flight attendants would have to do that for me.

I couldn’t shake this feeling and the faint whiff of someone’s cologne was awakening a sense memory. I looked around for the source and I saw the back of someone’s head disappearing within San José airport terminal. I pushed through the crowd, bumping into a flight attendant with a silly little grin on her face.

“I told him, but he wouldn’t listen to me. I guess everybody has to learn the hard way there’s no escaping…” I didn’t hear the last word and I was desperate to catch up to the man in the dark suit.

Pushing through the crowd wasn’t easy and some people took exception while still trying to wipe the sleep from the corners of their eyes.

“Slow down and stop acting like you’re the only one trying to get to your luggage.” Security was vigilant and watching for anything suspicious or out of character. I must’ve stood out like a sore thumb.

“You don’t understand. How could you when I don’t even understand myself. I might have gotten a little carried away.” I had lost sight of him in the throngs of people moving like sheep.

“Try to respect others and they might do the same thing in return. It’s called paying it forward. A little kindness and a smile go a long way to prevent tempers from flaring.” I wasn’t even looking at him. I was frantically scanning the heads in front of me by jumping up and down. He was gone but not soon forgotten.

I would remember the scent of his cologne. It was a perfect mix of clean, spicy and woodsy, not overpowering but very masculine. I didn’t know what he looked like, but it didn’t matter. He was raising the bar without saying a word. I finally had to convince myself it was a losing cause. It wasn’t like I could magically make him materialize in front of me. He was a faceless stranger with millions wearing similar suits in the same color.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I think I might have just woken up on the wrong side of the bed. I will do what I can to make your life a little easier.” He was still somewhat suspicious, but he allowed me to continue without detaining me for any longer than necessary.

The sound of luggage wheels being pulled behind each individual was the only thing I could hear. The blaring of the speakers announcing the next flight was somewhat annoying. It was a constant drumming in my head. Those surrounding the carousel waiting for their luggage were tapping their feet impatiently.

I did travel light, but I needed one piece of luggage to bring with me for an extended stay. My grandmother did pick an exotic location. Costa Rica was known for its lush rainforest and wildlife. I wasn’t going to have a chance to witness it for myself without going through treatment first.

I saw my battered piece of green luggage coming through the flaps of the baggage carousel. I pulled it free with one hand still holding onto my carry on. The wheels wobbled as I pulled it behind me. It was rather antiquated, but it more than made up for its lack of appearance with functionality.

“I hope your flight was smooth sailing.” I looked up to see this dark-skinned young man standing with my name written in bold letters on a placard.

“I see my grandmother wasn’t taking any chances with me chickening out. I don’t suppose there’s any way for me to bribe you into saying you couldn’t find me at the Airport.” His stone cold expression told me there was no point in pulling out my checkbook.

“I have been given strict orders to bring you to the treatment center. Follow me and we will avoid the unfortunate red tape.” His uniform left little to be desired.

Short gray cargo pants and a colorful Hawaiian designed shirt were unbuttoned because of the harsh humidity. His flip-flops were meant for comfort. If he was one of the attendants at the treatment center then maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

“If all the staff is like you then I don’t see there’s any reason to worry about anything.” He led me to this nondescript green army jeep. It was easy for him to toss my luggage in the back but he was gentle about it. It wasn’t like there was anything breakable.

“I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m only the driver. Their strict dress code doesn’t affect me. They are always inside where the temperature is considerably lower than you feel out here. The treatment center is about 20-minutes away. You might not know it, but these people are miracle workers. It doesn’t matter what your vice is and they will help to cure you of it.” He drove like a madman barely missing pedestrians and waving his hands in defiance.

“I guess I was hoping for a more casual atmosphere instead of a strict adherence to the rules. I don’t want to feel like I’m in prison. I’m voluntarily committing myself for evaluation and treatment. It should mean I can walk out at any time under my own free will.” He looked at me with a sideways glance.

“You will be assigned a private room. There is no television, but there is a wide array of books in the library to choose from. I’m partial to mysteries, but everybody has their preference. You will have to take part in some group activities. There will also be one on one session with your therapist.” He sounded like he was speaking right from the playbook. No doubt, he was meant to memorize the details to lull a client into a false sense of security.

I rolled up my sleeves and unbuttoned the first couple of buttons. I could already feel a trickle of sweat traveling between my breasts and tickling the skin of my taut stomach.

“I’ve seen the brochure. I was rather impressed with the grounds and the amenities. If I have to be here for treatment then I don’t mind having a medley of activities to choose from.” There were tennis courts and two different Olympic size pools including access to the beach.

“Their methods might be a little unorthodox, but it is money well spent. It says on your reservation that you are here indefinitely. Relaxation is the key. They want you in the right frame of mind to admit your shortcomings.” I was slowly accepting this was probably best for me. I had to be careful of temptation. I had been in dry dock for almost 24-hours.

“I’m hoping they will respect my right to privacy. The reason for my treatment is kind of embarrassing. I would rather the other staff and patients alike not be aware of my ailment.” I didn’t want to say those two words on the tip of my tongue. Sex addiction was still an illness regardless of the snickers behind my back.

“They keep patient files under lock and key. Only those authorized to read it are permitted to know the reason for your visit. It is forbidden for those in treatment to talk about it with other patients unless it’s during a group activity assigned for such an occasion.” The landscape was beautiful and I could see why some people would make this their annual destination.

“I don’t feel comfortable saying anything out loud. It might change, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.” We came to this iron rod gate with a speaker box. He spoke in a different language and it swung open like someone had said the magic words.

“It’s unlikely we are going to see each other until after the treatment is finished. I wish you luck, but I don’t think you’re going to need it. I’m usually a pretty good judge of character. There is this strength inside you. Trust me when I tell you it is.” He left me at the curb where two attendants were waiting for me.

They were dressed in much the same way as the taxi driver. It appeared their dress code was casual. They both motioned for me to take a few steps in front of them and then I heard this beeping. I turned to see them running a wand on either side of my body.

The bald one with a goatee and the kind of muscles I could spend days tracing with my fingers was looking at me with a smile on his face.

“We can’t be too careful about people trying to smuggle in things that haven’t been previously authorized by management. Recorders and anything digital is forbidden beyond this point. You won’t have any access to a phone other than the one in the lobby. We don’t want any outside influence affecting your treatment. Dr. Evans will see you in the morning.” They were soon convinced I wasn’t trying to smuggle narcotics or a ham underneath my skirt.

The lobby was made of this black and white marble with colorful murals on the wall. The woman behind the counter with a pair of glasses was very kind. I signed my Joan Hancock to their registry. She showed me on the map where I was staying. It was a bungalow right on the beach. I was rather anxious to slip into something more comfortable.

“There is no curfew, but we frown on fraternizing with the other patients. Liquor and illegal substances are forbidden and we have a zero tolerance policy.  You are free to move about on the grounds on the marked path.” There was nobody to take my luggage. The map was laid out in a way, not at all confusing.

It didn’t feel like a treatment center. It really was like a resort with two restaurants open 24-hours a day. The menu in my hand showed some interesting delights to tempt my palate. It was past 8:00 PM and it was still well over 80°.

I had my itinerary and breakfast was available up to 9:00 AM. My first appointment with Dr. Evans was at the strike of 10 on the clock.

“I know that look better than anyone. I’ve been here a couple of months and I feel it’s my duty to roll out the welcome wagon.” She was a colorful character with purple hair and one piercing recognizable in her nose. There was also the hint of some intricate ink on her shoulder.

“I’ve never been one to judge a book by its cover.” We introduced ourselves, but we refrained from speaking about the reason for our visit. We made idle chitchat, but I was exhausted. Jessica was more than happy to escort me to my bungalow.

I was barely inside before I fell on the mattress without turning on the light. It was a long flight and tomorrow was shaping up to be an even longer day.