Chapter 5: A Lapel of Lavender Roses

March

Hanes stood in one of the many hallways in Grohm’s home. The walls were high and reached the second story, completely blocking off that section from the floor above. The outside wall was lined with intricately made windows that were framed by pillars whom were flush with the wall. The walls were dark and warm as they were made with a well maintained wood paneling that only few could make work, and Dr.Grohm made it feel as if it was completely natural. 

“How is he?” Dr.Grohm approached with two glasses, about two fingers full of either bourbon or whiskey. Though the home was eclectic and lavish, Grohm suited himself with more casual attires in the comfort of his own abode, sweaters and slacks, half the time he didn’t wear shoes, only socks.

“He’s, awake.” Hanes held the glass firmly in one hand, the other was stuffed into his pocket, fiddling with loose threads. “That’s, all we can say right now.”

“And how is the girl?” Dr.Grohm calmly took a sip from his glass, his eyes fixed on Hanes as he stared out the windows.

“She’s…alive.” Hanes furrowed his brows and his lips curled in for a moment. The thoughts that stirred were visible on his face and in his expressions. “You were betting on this weren’t you.” 

Dr.Grohm’s eyes smiled, he looked out the window for a moment. How would he respond? He could tell him that, yes, he in fact was hoping something so severe would happen. Or, he could deny these accusations. “What do you mean?” His voice came out snide and smooth.

“Last month, dinner.” Hanes turned his head to look at his friend, to look at someone he knew somehow always had everything fall perfectly into place in his favor. “I said something, severe, had to happen. Lo and Behold, something happens.” His stare wandered it’s way back to the window, gazing out at the forests that were just far enough away to feel like they weren’t there at all, far enough away to feel like paintings.

“I was.” He stared at the same forests, his eyes and mind sifting through the leaves as though he were standing beneath them.

“What happens when he wakes up?”

“You’ll make an order for him to come see me, either weekly or bi-weekly. I’ll see to diagnosing him, if he has preexisting records I’ll take those into account. Not that I think he does.”

Hanes exhaled, he knew that it was in Michael’s best interest to go through with this, but how would he take to it? Would he be stubborn? Would he refuse? How tooth and nail was he going to fight it before giving into the exhaustion? “Okay. I’ll make the order.” 

The following week had not much interest to Dr.Grohm, uninteresting patients, with uninteresting troubles. The few patients that truly peaked his interest were far from able to reach his office, far from able to leave the confines of four stone walls and cold metal bars. It was a shame really, he knew he held value in the eyes of those who waltzed into his office to speak about their childhood or their partners, yet they held little to none in his eyes. 

“And how do you think she feels when you do this?” Dr.Grohm sat across from a man much shorter and stockier than himself. His hair was messy and windswept, his beard unkempt. The nice suit he wore looked as if it were rushed on, with wrinkles in places that could have been easily ironed.

“I honestly don’t care how she feels. She’s my wife, she should be doing what I tell her, not what her- friends tell her.” Dr.Grohm had an expression that was akin to forced neutrality, he blinked a few times as he processed the complete disregard for the patient's wife as a human being.

“She’s inclined to continue, what you say is, rebelling against you. You’re putting expectations on her that exceed what she’s capable of, that exceed what most people are capable of.” With the pen he held in his hand, he pushed his glasses into the nook of his nose. “Perhaps attend some marriage counseling? That is, if divorce isn’t already in it’s motions?” He raised his brows ever so slightly as the statement came out as a question.

How dare he imply that divorce was in motion! He was a good, attentive husband, all he asked for was her complete loyalty. Or at least, that is how he put it. “Are you insulting me Doctor?” The patient’s hands clamped down on the arms of the chair, the bones surfacing as his knuckles and the skin beneath his nails paled. 

“No, however I am telling you that your marriage is unsalvageable. The behavior you’re exuding is that of what the common person would call, Narcissistic. Your belief that she is to keep the home clean, ask for your permission to leave or see her friends- let alone her family, all while expected to hold a stable job. It’s not possible for anyone to do that. You’re isolating her.” Grohm was a doctor, yes, but he was also a morally strong person. To sit back and watch as a man socially tortured the person he is supposed to care for most, ached him. He was a doctor, he was a good one.

“You’re out of line Doctor, very out of line.” The patient’s nose crinkled and his eyes widened. Every part of his body told Grohm to call security or to press some panic button, however neither of these things were possible. No panic buttons, no strong individuals to save him. 

“I will refer you to a marriage counselor.” He spoke carefully. “She’s a very good therapist, specializing in relationships.” He exhaled slowly. Dr.Grohm wasn’t afraid, no, however a patient leaving with bruises or bloodied wasn’t a good look on him nor the office. “Until then, I’ll have to ask that you refrain from seeing me.” His neutral gaze turned into a cold stare. “Unless absolutely necessary.” 

The patient’s face was red, he had so much to say. As he opened his mouth Dr.Grohm held up a finger, his hour had passed. His hour was savored and eventful, but it had passed. 

He got up from the cushioned seat, now warm from the prolonged sitting, and stormed for the door. Dr.Grohm could swear that he cracked the dark wood flooring just from the intense and childish stomping he fled with. 

Dr.Grohm got up from his seat and inhaled, slowly following the man to the door. He might have been extremely impolite to Grohm, but he would still kindly show him the door. And it was as the man swung it open in a red anger, he was met with a man about two inches taller than himself. He looked tired, his clothing was extremely casual, looking as if he had just gotten off of work in some cold environment. His hair was a dark rich brown, his face about a day out from a shave, and his eyes were downturned and dark despite appearing as though they’d be a warm green or hazel in the sun. 

The patient grunted and his face turned to a scowl before he stormed down the hall, leaving the man there in a bit of a shock as he watched him race down the hall fuming. It was only when Dr.Grohm spoke his name did his attention draw away from the hall and become taken aback for a moment by the man before him. “Mr.Anderson?”