Chapter Text
16 September, 2064, 8:15 AM, La Jolla, San Diego, California
Eventually, if you get old enough, you acquiesce to the routine of daily life.
When someone lives a good life, they learn to savor every moment. They take pleasure in the memories they’ve built up throughout their life. They gain a sense of fulfillment from the lessons life has taught them, which in turn makes aging worthwhile.
Having recently turned sixty-four, Connor was looking forward to the slowdown in his career. In a few years, he was planning to be able to work only a few days per week, leaving more time to spend with his family.
Today is a Tuesday. In southern California though, the hot, late summer days blend together. The lack of easily discernible seasons makes it hard for many people to keep a sense of time.
Connor, on the other hand, knew it was a Tuesday.
Reaching his office a bit earlier than normal, Connor decided to get some paperwork out of the way. His office staff had not arrived yet, so he picked up his computer tablet to look through today’s schedule.
- 9:00 AM to 10:00 AM - Therapy session with Jennifer Morrow
- 10:30 AM to 12:30 AM - Lecture luncheon at the Briar House
- 1:30 PM to 2:30 PM - New patient appointment, David Ellis
- 3:00 PM to 4:00 PM - Therapy session with Michael Gossimer
- 5:00 PM - Meeting with Cole
Connor smiled after noticing the new patient appointment. After practicing psychology for 36 years, he still felt a sense of gratification every time a new patient entered the practice. He knew that it was another opportunity to improve someone’s life - the reason Connor became a psychologist in the first place.
As he always liked to keep abreast of new patients, Connor decided to look through David’s file on the tablet.
Connor specialized in treating anxiety, social behavior and marriage counseling issues with LGBT individuals and their families. David’s file showed him to be a very typical patient in that manner. He had been referred to Connor through a middle school counselor at the request of his parents. His past looked to be rather rough - littered with treatments for various social issues ranging from being bullied to mutism. His parents asked his school about professional assistance for dealing with social issues related to his recent decision to come out as gay at school.
Nothing in particular stood out in Connor’s eyes. David was in every way a typical patient.
Except for his date of birth: 4 July, 2051.
Connor nearly slipped out of his desk chair. He steadied himself a bit, and grabbed his coffee mug to calm himself with a sip of the warm liquid.
David’s birthday wasn’t extraordinary to Connor for the same reasons most people would expect. Of course the Independence Day, “born on the fourth of July” maxim would ring in the ears of most Americans.
To Connor, there was another connection. More emotional than patriotic or traditional.
That day, just over thirteen years ago was the day that immediately followed the worst day of Connor’s life.
All of the professional education, training and experience could not have prepared Connor to introduce a patient into his practice who was born the day after…
10:12 AM
Connor’s first appointment passed very quickly. His usual attentive, conscientious demeanor was a bit absent - something even Jennifer, his patient had observed.
“Doctor, are you alright this morning? You seem a bit, should I say, detached?”
“Thanks for noticing, Jennifer. You are a very empathetic young woman,” Connor smiled.
“It’s alright, Doctor. We’ve all been under a lot of stress around here lately.”
The situation to which Jennifer refered was on the front of every newspaper in the country for the last week - a recent declaration of a partial evacuation of Southern California. After decades of crippling drought, even with the shrinking population of the region, the authorities were unable to provide enough clean water for everyone. Many families were being paid by the government to relocate to areas east of the Rocky Mountains where climate change had not begun to affect the availability of water.
“I’m not sure if my mother has told you or not, but my grandparents’ farm near Escondido is closing down next week. We don’t plan to move anytime soon, but if water prices keep going up…”
“I’m sorry to hear that Jennifer. I still think, even with all that is happening around here, you will have a bright future in California. We’ll need people with your scientific skills. Are you still planning to attend CalTech to study environmental engineering?”
“Unless things get even worse, I still plan to stay around through my schooling. Speaking of which, I need to leave right away to make an appointment with my guidance counselor.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Take care and I’ll see you at next week’s appointment.”
Yet, with such a heavy subject on Connor’s mind, it did not compare to the shock he received this morning. He began to become irritated with himself, not being able to shake the dark thoughts in his mind.
“You need to move on. You have a new patient this afternoon who deserves a blank slate with his new doctor. You have to do this. Get with it Stevens.”
11:28 AM
“The Briar House would like to welcome today’s featured speaker, Doctor Connor Stevens Adams-Foster. Connor started a practice in La Jolla nearly 25 years ago. He attended the University of California, San Diego, graduating with a master’s degree in secondary education. He went on to attend the University of Nevada, Las Vegas medical school, receiving his doctorate in psychology in 2028. Please welcome our distinguished speaker.”
The small audience gave a warm welcoming applause to the presenter’s announcement.
Connor stood up from his table near the window and walked to the lectern. He carried his notes with him on his tablet, absent mindedly dropping it onto the angled surface with a sharp thud. The microphone picked up the noise and amplified it, startling the audience.
“Excuse me ladies and gentlemen. I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s a good thing these devices are indestructible these days.”
The audience gave a polite laugh.
“I’m here today, as you know, to speak about social issues pertaining to the disappearance of heteronormative aphorisms in institutional environments.”
1:24 PM
The perceived pace of the lecture followed the same intrepidity of his morning appointment. It must be a Tuesday, the time always flies on Tuesdays.
Usually, Connor liked to be a few minutes early for new patients as it sets a good example and basis for expected punctuality between doctor and patient.
However, today, Connor needed to approach his new patient in a different manner. His internal emotional restraints were beginning to fortify themselves against the morning’s shock, until his phone rang.
“Hey dad. Are we still on for tonight?”
Cole, Connor’s son of thirty-two years old - who would be gaining a year’s age in two days - was truly a “chip off the old block” that was Connor.
Cole was athletic, good looking and highly educated. He recently graduated from a psychology doctorate program as well, and was looking forward to joining his father in his practice soon.
“Of course, Cole. We have a lot to plan, and I really hope you’re as excited as I am.”
“You know you don’t have to keep asking that, dad.”
“Yeah, I know. I think it’s kind of been our dream for a while now.”
Cole didn’t speak for a couple of seconds. “Dad would have loved to see what we’re about to do.”
Connor’s emotional bastions began to crumble once again.
After a noticeable pause, Connor spoke, with a sentimental tongue, “Yes, he would have. Look, I have to go, I have an appointment with a new patient here in a few.”
“Okay, dad. Let’s talk about where to meet sometime around 5-ish?”
“Sounds good.”
1:32 PM
“Doctor, the new patient is waiting in your office. I need to run a couple of errands. Will you be alright without me for the rest of the afternoon,” said Susan, his overly attentive, yet easy-to-work-with office manager.
“Not a problem with me. I’ll call you if I need anything.”
Game time. Putting on a kind, yet professional face, Connor quickly picked up his tablet and opened the door to his office.
Sitting on the couch across from the picture window was his new patient, David.
He looked like your average thirteen year old. Casual clothing, still trying to find his personal style. Skinny arms and legs, nature taking its time filling out his frame. David’s dark hair sat tufted upon his head, reminding Connor of hairdos that were common when he was David’s age.
“Hello, David. I’m Dr. Stevens Adams-Foster, but I do prefer it if my patients call me Connor.”
David looked at Connor with a warm, silent expression. Deep, dark brown eyes, looking around the office.
“You know that you don’t have to say anything today. Don’t feel any pressure. If you want to communicate with me, you can use whatever method you’d like.”
A small smile poked up from one corner of David’s mouth. Connor knew his first attempt at reaching David had obviously been a success. The groundwork was being laid for a successful treatment.
“I’ve worked with many people who can’t verbally express themselves all of the time. It’s kind of a specialty with my practice. I saw on your records that your parents are concerned that you haven’t spoken for three days now.”
David looked at Connor with an anxious expression. His brow began to furrow.
“Don’t think that you’re in my office because of something bad that you’ve done. You have no need to feel lousy about yourself when you’re in my office. This is a safe place, and anything you tell me, either verbally or otherwise stays between us.”
David’s expression eased a bit.
“You know, David, when I was your age, I had a friend who didn’t speak for a whole week.”
David pulled his legs up under himself, looking like he was getting ready to listen to a story around a campfire. Connor knew that his approach was working.
“It’s true. You know, there’s usually a reason things like this happen. Some people who have a hard time verbally communicating with others had a past trauma, like a death in the family, or abuse.”
David shook his head. It was obvious to Connor that this was not a deep-seated psychological issue.
“It’s good to know that you didn’t have any of those situations, David.”
“Are you having problems at school?”
David sat motionless, his expression froze completely.
“The reason I ask is that a lot of LGBT students, even today find it difficult when they first articulate their sexual orientation to friends and family.”
David nodded with a slow, telling motion.
“When I came out to my father, about 50 years ago, things were much different. I didn’t have much of a support system to rely upon, except for my boyfriend and his family. Do you have a friend, or friends that you feel comfortable talking with about being gay?”
Again, David nodded in the same fashion.
“It’s good that you’ve identified people who can morally support you. I still, to this day rely upon friends to help me get through life, and I’m glad that you’ve made that effort. It will help you make your transitions through the stages of life much easier.”
David smiled while looking away from Connor, gazing towards the floor. His body language made it obvious that he was thinking about someone - perhaps the one who had reached out to help him. David’s mind was obviously in another place at this moment.
Connor had seen this same expression before.
These same dark eyes. The upturned corner of his mouth when he smiled.
The inability to vocalize his thoughts.
His sentiment about David wasn’t being triggered by his professional experience, but rather his past. Connor was sure how he was reading David’s psyche wasn’t written in any textbook.
“David, I think we’ve made good progress here today. I’d like to talk with your parents and see if you can stop by three times per week for a while.”
David nodded with the clear, unmistakable movement that felt as though he was crying out for relief. He got up and walked to the office door. As he began to turn the knob, he looked at Connor, raised his bottom lip a bit, and smiled. His eyes squinted a bit and then relaxed. He left the office and walked out to his mother’s car.
Connor knew, when he looked at the troubled consciousness of his new patient, something was… different. Something… nostalgic, perhaps.
He didn’t believe in serendipitous moments. The universe wasn’t that organized towards feeding our emotions. That big ball of electrochemicals sitting on top of his body wasn’t influenced in the slightest by anything outside of his limits of control.
Routine was out the window, although today was a Tuesday. Obviously a Tuesday. Connor was pretty sure.
“Get with it Stevens.”