Faith sat forward on the Red Line Metro departing Dupont Circle three blocks from her apartment. Situated in a window seat with Zeus in front of her, she felt the train lurch forward as it got underway inside the station tunnel. Minutes later, she heard the brakes hiss and squeal as the train came to a gradual stop along the passenger platform at Farragut North. A menagerie of passengers clamored aboard the crowded compartment before the doors slid closed. The driver’s garbled voice boomed through the ceiling speaker to announce the train’s next stop.

She removed her Braille day planner from the briefcase beside her and opened it to the page marker from the day before. She ran her fingertips over printed transcripts to find the name Daniel Streak, a thirty-eight-year-old patient who suffered from delusional paranoia and Tourette’s Syndrome. She reviewed the clonidine script she’d proffered to help Daniel control his motor tics and considered an increase over the current one tenth-milligram dosage. She’d worked with Daniel for months, probing the complex psyche of a man who seemed at odds with himself. A man with a clouded past and a curious medical history obfuscated by poor record keeping on the part of Daniel’s former psychiatrist who’d left a thriving practice—and a desperate patient—to pursue more lucrative opportunities.

When the train arrived at the Silver Spring station, she secured her belongings and gripped Zeus’s harness handle to exit toward the mezzanine. Her right arm twitched from muscle memory reserved for the constant tapping motion with her cane. In its absence, she paced alongside her new companion, who weaved through the tide of morning commuters funneling toward the surface street escalator.

* * *

Daniel Streak boarded the bus to Silver Spring in the same clothes he’d worn the night before, his paunchy, unshaven face peppered with acne scars beneath the half-moon depressions under both eyes. He caught the bus driver staring back at him from a giant mirror and swatted the air behind the seat in front of him. It took courage to board the bus and endure the public transportation experience. He’d done a bad thing but for all the right reasons. Money wouldn’t cure him, but it would buy him a chance to recoup some semblance of the life he left behind. And a new apartment with a better view. And better food. Not the kind he ate from paper bags, but the kind restaurants served on a plate with a real fork and knife. He wanted new clothes from an upscale department store, not musty leftovers from the Goodwill bin. He wanted a life without Tourette’s and a chance to feel alive again, free from the entrapment’s of a man he barely recognized anymore. He admired Dr. Galloway and how she saw him differently than other shrinks, perhaps because she couldn’t really see him at all.

* * *

Nestled in a faded leather armchair with Zeus asleep at her feet with his paws extended and his tail curled alongside his body, Faith crossed her arms and cleared her throat inside her Silver Spring office with the shades drawn on the minimally decorated space reserved for patient counseling. “Did you drive or take the bus to get here?” she asked Daniel Streak, who smelled in desperate need of a shower.

Daniel swatted the air. His cheeks contracted from involuntary muscle spasms. “I elected to use mass transportation.”

“I thought you were ready to drive.”

“I didn’t feel like it.”

“Were you nervous?”

“What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?”

“I’m not asking about China.”

“You should be. Those communist bastards own North Korea. Kim Jong Un’s nuclear ambitions threaten to destroy any semblance of world peace. Don’t believe our censored media. If his actions persist, it will not be a matter of if, but when, Kim Jong’s vision becomes reality. And you think I’m crazy.”

“No one thinks you’re crazy.”

Daniel swatted the air repeatedly. “Oh boy…” He made a loud clucking sound and smacked his hand on his thigh. “Bite me!”

Faith adjusted her chair to avoid a cramp in her leg. “Hold your breath for five seconds and inhale sharply.”

“Oh boy!”

“Daniel…”

“Are you recording this session?”

“Would you like me to pause?”

“Who’s-your-daddy, who’s-your-daddy!”

“Daniel, listen to my voice,” Faith counseled. “I want you to take a deep breath and hold it for five seconds. Then I want you to exhale sharply. Can you do that for me?”

Daniel gave an enthusiastic nod with his hands clenched at his sides. “When did you acquire the German Shepherd?”

“A few days ago.”

“He likes you.”

“I hope so.”

Daniel jerked his head side to side. “Oh boy…”

“Are you taking your medication?”

Daniel blinked several times. “Do you squat when you pee?”

“It’s important you continue with your medication.”

“Who’s-your-daddy, who’s-your-daddy!”

“I can adjust the dosage, or try a different therapy.”

“The fucking meds don’t work! This should be obvious to you by now. The pills disrupt my cognitive balance.”

Faith probed her desk for her prescription pad and slid her finger across the large dot Braille at the top. She’d treated Daniel’s coprolalia with less potent medication. This time, she wrote Haloperidol in block letters and signed the script. “Tell me about your new truck. In our last session, you told me you were excited to drive it.”

“Pull down your pants!”

“Concentrate on my voice, Daniel. Listen to what I’m asking you, and focus on one thing at a time.”

“I’m considering selling the truck.”

“Why?”

“I need the money to support a new venture.”

“What kind of venture?”

Daniel flailed his arms and snorted. “The kind I can’t talk about at the moment.” He swatted at the air, accidentally smacking himself upside the face. “Who’s-your-daddy, who’s-your-daddy!”

“Tell me about your new job. In our last session, you were eager to rejoin the workforce.”

Daniel rocked in place. “I can neither confirm nor deny such conversation.”

“You told me you found an IT job with a large firm.”

“Get on these nuts!”

“You can’t thrive in society if you don’t stay on your medication.”

“Whose society? We all have our dues to pay, Dr. Galloway. Some of us owe more than others.”

Faith lowered her arm to feel Zeus resting at her feet. “You told me you studied electrical engineering. You said you wanted to work for NASA.”

“That was another life.”

“Before the accident?”

“Before my Tourette’s.”

“Tourette’s is genetic. You were born with this disorder.”

“If you say so.”

“Tell me more about the accident.”

“I lived. My parents didn’t. End of story.”

“You weren’t driving the car.”

“I should have been. If I had, they would still be alive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“What I know is, I’m here, and they’re not.”

“And your sister?”

Daniel wrung his hands together and cleared his throat. “She’s not in my life anymore. She blames me for this tragedy.”

“You can’t change what happened, Daniel. You can only move forward with your life.”

Daniel made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Oh boy… My life is a mystery to me.”

“That’s why we’re in session.”

“Who’s-your-daddy, who’s-your-daddy!”

“Tell me about your new job.”

“Any moron can become a system administrator. Most are self-taught by a lousy teacher. I graduated from Stanford.”

“Are you sleeping better?”

Daniel rocked back and forth. He swatted the air and grunted. “Pull down your pants!”

“I’d like to adjust your medication.”

Daniel rapped his knee with an open hand. “That won’t be necessary.”

“I disagree.”

Daniel got up from his chair and made a loud clacking sound. “Your dog is so calm. He handles my Tourette’s better than I do.”

“He’s well trained.”

“As are you Dr. Galloway. But this will be my last appointment.”

“Why?”

“Touch my monkey!”

“Daniel…” Faith could hear Daniel open the door to leave. “We still have fifteen minutes.”

“How do you tell time?”

“I have a watch that talks to me.”

“I have to go.”

“Your family would want you to stay.”

Daniel swatted the air and jerked his head to one side. “My family doesn’t get to decide anymore.”

Faith heard the door close. She fanned the air for Zeus and found him gone. When she snapped her fingers and called to him, she heard his dog tag jingle. “Do you need to go out?” she asked when she felt him nuzzle her open hand. She stroked the fur on his back and felt his posture stiffen. A low growl confirmed his sudden change in demeanor.

“Daniel?”

Faith heard movement in the adjacent room.

Zeus barked loudly.

Faith reached for Zeus’s harness handle when a blurry figure entered the room. “Who’s there?”

“Just me,” Julian announced, gently extending his hand toward Zeus. “You can call off your attack dog.”

Faith gave the harness handle a firm tug and commanded Zeus to heel. “You can’t be here. I’m in session.”

“There’s no one here. Your admin assistant said I could enter.”

“I was with a patient.” Faith felt Julian hug his arm around her. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to buy you lunch.”

“I’m booked today.”

“You said you were going to take it easy for a while.”

“I’m fine. My patients need me.”

“Don’t shut me out. You do this every time something bothers you, and you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Now is not a good time. I have another patient scheduled.”

“Ever since you held the ring I gave you, you’ve been distant.”

“I’ve been busy. There’s a difference.”

“Are you ignoring me because you’re angry or because you’re afraid of commitment?” Julian lowered his head, wishing he could retract his words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean the way it sounded. I want you to be my wife. I want us to be together for the long haul.”

Faith frowned. “If this is your idea of a marriage proposal—”

“I’m sorry. I’m not real good with words sometimes. You know how I feel about you. I want us to be happy. To buy a house with some land. Somewhere outside the city. You can’t take care of this dog in your apartment.”

Faith turned away from Julian and touched the corner of her desk to orient herself. “You should go.”

“So your answer is still no?”

“My answer is, I need more time to think about it.”