Gripping the shotgun, looking out the right front window for a target.
Where were they?
A breeze came through the window, fragrant with some herbal smell. He’d learned something about horticulture helping his daughter in biology. He and Hannah were going to start another project. The water clock was for history. The new one would be for biology: hydroponic gardening.
One more sip.
And another after that.
“Nineteen, really?” Then Dr. Evans looks at the clock that is not the Water Clock; these hands never stop moving. And then back to Merritt. “Ah, but I see our time is up, Jon. Hold on to that memory. It might be a good one to explore.”
Without a thought, Merritt snaps like a tensioned wire. He rises fast and grabs his chair and flings it against the wall. He lunges forward, well within the doctor’s sphere of personness, and leans toward him screaming, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!”
And Jon Merritt realizes he’s about to find out what happens when the panic button gets slapped.
But the man doesn’t summon help.
Dr. Tuna Sandwich is actually smiling. “But we’re not going to worry about the clock today. Let’s keep going. All right with you?”
Breathing hard, Jon stares.
Dr. Evans walks to the tossed chair, picks it up and replaces it. He gestures for his patient to sit.
He does.
“There’s a famous psychiatrist. He had this theory I like. He said that everybody has a prime disconnect. He means a constant and essential problem. Most of our unhappiness flows from that. We’ve talked for months now. You’re intelligent, fair, responsible... But you, like everybody else, have a prime disconnect. Yours is an addiction.”
“The drinking, sure, well—”
“No,notthe drinking.”
This gets Jon’s full attention.
“You were a police officer. You run drug cases?”
“Yeah. Sometimes.”
“Then you know about precursor.”
“Chemicals used in the early stages of cooking drugs.”
“You have a precursor too. Alcohol. You’re not addicted to that. You’re addicted to what alcohol cooks.”
“Which is?”
“Anger.”
Jon gives one of his humorless laughs. “I’m addicted to anger? What does that mean?”
“We’re addicted to behaviors that numb us from uneasiness, depression, anxiety. Lashing out does that for you. But you hold back, it builds up, builds up... And you start drinking. Then the barriers come down.
“Now that we know that, we have to look at where the anger comes from. That’ll take some time to answer. Your father has something to do with it. A belt? At nineteen? Because you were working overtime? His reaction, his behavior were inexcusable. You were furious... But you didn’t say anything.”
“No.”
“Because you were afraid he’d go away from you.”
Jon says nothing.