“A Perfect World: Case Study A” by Adam Frank Boretz
--page 6

Institute of Living
Norris Outpatient Facility
Office Visit LR0015

- No, we talk—every couple of weeks or so.
- About?
- What do we talk about? I don’t know. Not much.
- And when you were growing up?
- Not so much. She didn’t say much. Mainly she just sat at the kitchen table smoking cigarettes. I mean, she talked. She shouted mostly. Shouted and threw stuff around the apartment.
- What did she shout about?
- You know, the usual: your-father-this, your-father-that, make-your-fucking-sister-dinner, my-life-is-shit ...(12)
- That’s the usual?
- Well, maybe not for everyone. I don’t know.
- And your father?
- What about him?
- Do you still talk to him?
- Yeah. Sometimes. He’s in Ohio. Hannah always talked to him more than I did. They kind of hit it off for whatever reason.
- Do they still talk?
- I don’t know. I doubt it. He said she called about a month ago—something about the house ...
- Before we end, I wanted to ask you about that pattern—the rhythm in your head. Are you still hearing it?
- Yeah.
- How often?
- I don’t know. Once a week, once a month—it varies.
- And you still have the same reaction?
- Yeah.
- And do you have any new thoughts about the pattern? What it is? What you think it means?
- Nothing new. Just that it’s not right somehow, that I’m not supposed to hear it, and that I need to stop it ... I was kind of hoping you knew what it meant.


         If I am not careful comma I am going to kill myself period
         I am going to smash my car into a telephone pole period I am going to flip over the guardrail into the deep drainage ditch on Parson Road period I am going to drift into a opposite lane and collide with a stream of oncoming traffic period If I am not careful comma I am going to die in a wreck of twisted metal comma and broken glass period
         But I can apostrophe t stop period
         Driving down Pulp Mill Bridge Road comma I remove both hands from the steering wheel and press my ten fingers into the soft knob of the gear shift period My fingernails bend and twist into the black plastic period And I begin to count colon
         1 2 3 4
         The car drifts across the single yellow line period
         One Two Three Four
         The car drifts into the opposite lane period
         I II III IV
         The car drifts toward the opposite curb period
         1 2 3 4
         As the car clips a row of mailboxes comma I grab the wheel comma cutting across both lanes comma across a stream of oncoming traffic comma as pickup trucks and minivans screech around me period I pull my car to the side of the road and I feel the pressure in my head as cars honk and drivers shout period
         I stare across the empty road comma at the skid marks and broken mailboxes comma at the mess of splintered wood and plastic and bent metal and shattered red flags period And then comma I am punching at the dashboard and steering column with both fists period Shouting and hitting at anything and everything until my fists are red and my breath is short period And that is when I stop period
         When I can breathe again comma I wrap my hands in an old shirt comma and pick up the yellow envelope from the passenger seat period The envelope is clean and stamped and official comma with my name and address typed across the front period I watch as blood smudges the letter from my wife period And then comma just to punish myself for all of this comma I tear open the seal and read the pages period

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