“Should I come back next month?” she asked.
“You know your body," he told her. " You know when something’s off. If the bugs don’t buzz your ears, I think six months should be soon enough.”
Thinking about that stressed her. Shelly didn’t know what she’d do if she couldn’t visit Dr. Hister for six more months. He was like a citronella candle or one of those funny little beeping boxes supposed to keep pests away. Breathe, she thought. Breathe deeply. She did. Still, the twitches and flutters were foreign to her now. Even while considering her stress, she didn’t feel it swelling inside her, just as when she thought of Jonathan by name she didn’t summon him to her door. The bugs were gone. Even the centipedes seemed to have crawled off to their dank bits of tile in public restrooms or dark holes in the earth.
She walked across the parking lot and slid into the driver’s seat of her blue PT Cruiser. As soon as the door slammed behind her, she bowed her head and began to cry, unsure if hers were tears of happiness or sorrow. She felt as though she’d lost the last man in her life who cared. All because of those pills... Maybe I don’t need them anymore, she thought. If I’m better, maybe I should stop taking them. She saw herself flushing the tablets and tossing the empty amber bottle in the wastebasket. It was an image that made her smile, even as she tasted the salty moisture on her lips. What were a few little insects? After all these years, she’d gotten used to them. They were the lovers who understood her. They were the doctors who’d see her when she chose. They were the fathers who didn’t have to die.