Fawlt Magazine | A Perfect World by Adam Frank Boretz

         I dig my fingernails deep into the meat of my palm again period Again and again and again period Over and over period But it is not right period It is never right period A little trickle of blood rolls down my hand but I can apostrophe t stop period I grind my nails into the cut and gouge the soft pink period
         Outside the car comma it is bleak and brittle and little speckles of ice rattle across the windshield period I close my eyes and wonder will I ever be able to start the car comma to pull out of the driveway period
         I slice my nail into my palm and it is sticky and red period I can see Hannah looking down from the house period And I know she knows period
         I stick my fingernail in between two tendons but all I can feel is that familiar spike of pressure comma warm and sharp as it uncoils across the back of my skull period
         My nail slashes into my hand and finally it is right period Perfect period I start the car and somehow that is right too and the old Chrysler skids over crusted ice and swerves down the empty street for the last time period

Institute of Living
Norris Outpatient Campus
Initial Consult LR001

- Well, I think that that’s something you have to decide for yourself, Levi(1).
- Right.
- But I will say this. I think some sort of clinical treatment is vital.
- Right(2).
- As is medication.
- OK.
- And I want to stress that with the correct combination of meds and therapy your condition can be totally manageable.
- OK. Right ... What’s that mean? Totally manageable?
- That depends. There are any number of factors.
- Such as?
- Response to medication, attitude, the patient(3) ... Again this is in your hands. None of it will do any good if you don’t want to change. You have to make the determination am I here because I want to be here, because I want to get better. Or am I here because my wife or my sister or my friends told me to get help.
- Ex-wife.
- OK, ex-wife. But that doesn’t change the question.
- I’m here, aren’t I? I showed up.
- Yes. Yes, you did. But do you really want to get better? Are you willing to do the work?
- I think so—
- Don’t answer now. Just think about it. Think about why you’re here. Think about what you want to get out of this.

         Locked in the Mobil station men apostrophe s room comma I eye the mirror and hold up my hands and flex every muscle in my fingers period They stretch out wide and tall comma almost to the point of breaking and I look up at my thin comma pale reflection and count
         1 2 3 4
         One two three four
         I II III IV
         1 2 3 4
         but it is not perfect period Not like a photograph period My temples throbs because it has been twenty hyphen five minutes and maybe this time it will go on forever period Maybe I will never get it right period I see myself giving up and lying down in an empty stall but somewhere inside my head a distant beat beat beat beat spikes louder and louder in my head and I have to make it stop period So again comma with fingers bending and twisting and brittle and white from strain comma I look up at the bent nose and cleft chin reflected back at me in the mirror
         1 2 3 4
         One two three four
         I II III IV
         1 2 3 4
         and for a brief moment everything is perfect like a picture in a scrapbook and I slam my eyes shut and run blindly out into the parking lot period

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1 Levi sniffs four times and looks at his shoes. He is not convinced. Outside Dr. Hackle-Wells’ office, a man and woman sit at opposite ends of a bus stop. Occasionally, the man, whose hair is long and matted, kicks at a clump of brown slush. The woman—pinched and ruddy—stares at her mittened hands. Levi licks his thick lips, clockwise then counter-clockwise, and watches the couple. For a moment, he imagines the man’s job, the woman’s family, their friends and hobbies. He looks inside their bedrooms and watches them brush their teeth and sees them naked and cold and frail. Simultaneously, Levi is disgusted and exhilarated for reasons he cannot understand. He bites the chapped crust on his lower lip and stares at Dr. Hackle-Wells.
2 Levi sniffs four times and looks at his shoes. He is not convinced. Outside Dr. Hackle-Wells’ office, a man and woman sit at opposite ends of a bus stop. Occasionally, the man, whose hair is long and matted, kicks at a clump of brown slush. The woman—pinched and ruddy—stares at her mittened hands. Levi licks his thick lips, clockwise then counter-clockwise, and watches the couple. For a moment, he imagines the man’s job, the woman’s family, their friends and hobbies. He looks inside their bedrooms and watches them brush their teeth and sees them naked and cold and frail. Simultaneously, Levi is disgusted and exhilarated for reasons he cannot understand. He bites the chapped crust on his lower lip and stares at Dr. Hackle-Wells.
3 Dr. Hackle-Wells never stops smiling and Levi, who sits stiffly in an armchair and blinks—open close, open close, open close, open close—, is uncertain about her sincerity. He is then uncertain about being uncertain about her sincerity and wonders if he is just being paranoid. Before beginning to question the legitimacy of his paranoia, Levi decides to abandon this line of thought while he is able and instead counts to four four times.