JUNE BUG

The therapist (we’ll call her Bea) sits directly across from a tiny young woman whose wild hand gestures make her feel like she needs sheet music to follow. She has become lost and can’t seem to play along. The new patient (we’ll call her June) has been babbling non-stop for around thirty minutes about creepy crawlers and Bea, who hasn’t been completely tuned in, suddenly realizes this woman may have a bug phobia.

Bea wishes she were a bug so she could crawl under the door and out the building. She has been doing this for too long, listening to the ramblings of lost people. Last week, a patient noticed she’d tuned him out and suggested she listen to the voices in her head, run to the nearest dumpster, jump in, and wait for the garbage truck to pick her up. He was right; she wanted to run but hoped if she ever heard voices they’d tell her to sprint to the nearest island instead, one with lots of umbrella drinks.

“I shouldn’t have read that story,” June suddenly shouts.

“What story?” Bea doesn’t even realize she said the words out loud but she must have because June is out of her chair, making odd sounds and flapping about like she’s ready to take off, her bright colored scarf billowing about.

“Haven’t you been listening? The Metamorphosis!”

Bea hasn’t been listening, but she is familiar with the story by Franz Kafka, even read it back in college for some lit class. The main character, Gregor Samsa, wakes up one morning to find himself transformed into a giant insect.

“Are you afraid that could happen to you? That one day you’ll turn into an insect?” she asks June. It’s not an unreasonable question, as she has treated patients with stranger fears.

“Of course not!” June is most emphatic, as she curls up into her chair. “Wait, could that happen?”

Bea isn’t sure what could or couldn’t happen anymore. Her husband of twenty-one years just became a woman so why couldn’t someone become an insect. Her ex seems happy, the happiest she’s ever seen him, or she should say “her,” so what does she know? Not much, as she never saw that one coming.

She tells her patient it’s just a story, to buy some bug spray and she’ll see her next week and on that note she is done for the day.

The week goes along slowly. A patient drones on about her husband’s lack of hygiene and another about his compulsion for smelling feet. By the end of the week, after listening to someone who is convinced the world will soon be invaded by aliens, she is ready for the weekend and happily heads home.

She forgoes dinner. Instead, she sits on her porch sipping wine and staring at the empty chair alongside her, wondering what Darren, or rather Daria, is doing. Whatever it is, her ex has moved on so why can’t she? Gulping the last drop of cabernet, she notices that her ex-husband’s chair is no longer empty. Sitting beside her is a rather large hard shelled insect. Bea isn’t fond of bugs, but she doesn’t live in fear of them like her patient. She envisions that poor woman running for the hills, or not, since the hills could be filled with creepy crawlers.

The creature’s striped shell reminds her of the beat up wallpaper in her parent’s house, although there are some bright markings throughout. She is too tired to bring herself to kill it. Sadly, the insect feels like company and so she allows it to remain on the chair, breathing the same air she does until it’s time to call it a night.

The next morning, the insect is lounging on her brand new comforter. The one she paid way too much money for. She runs to get a tissue to remove it, but it scurries off the bed and onto the floor. The thing is like a marathon runner; she can’t keep up with it so she gives up.  The bug then follows her and watches while she brushes her teeth, brews her coffee, and munches on her toast. Bea finds this a bit weird and amusing all at the same time.

Throughout the next week, the creature becomes agitated, continuously making hissing noises, as if it’s demanding Bea’s attention. It has grown in size and doesn’t appear to be happy about it. It wails a bit when it moves.  Anyone else would have smashed it by now but Bea doesn’t have the heart to do so and can’t figure out why. She has a crazy thought: what if the creature is her patient June which would mean Kafka’s story has become a reality. Bea realizes she’s being ridiculous and has a good laugh out loud moment. After all, it’s summer and with summer comes bugs but something compels her to phone June. Of course, it goes straight to voicemail.

The beginning of the week drags. A longtime patient is still thinking of divorcing her husband since she first brought it up four years ago. “It’ll be happening soon,” she assures Bea.

On the morning of June’s appointment, Bea is more anxious than she has ever been. June is five minutes late, then ten. Bea phones and discovers her patient’s mailbox is now full. Then twenty minutes pass and when thirty comes around, she flings herself from her chair and hurries out the door. The address she has for June is not too far from her office.  When she knocks on her apartment door and gets no answer, she marches into the office explaining that she is June’s therapist and demands the manager open her door for she fears something drastic has happened.

“I hope she didn’t do what Mr. Crisley in 208 did. That was a mess to clean up,” the manager tells her.

“I think it could be worse than that,” is all Bea says when there is no sign of June.

She then calls the restaurant where June works the night shift. “We haven’t seen her or heard from her in  almost a week,” the owner tells her. “I’m done with her.”

Bea  phones June’s emergency contact but her father has no idea where she is. “We don’t really keep in touch,” he tells her. “June didn’t like it one bit when I brought my tarantula with me on my last visit. She has a terrible fear of insects. I always tell her she’ll probably come back as one.” Bea finds his laughter a tad creepy.

When Bea arrives home, the insect is in the family room watching The Real Housewives of Atlanta and lounging in the recliner, which looks like it’s about to collapse, as the creature keeps growing. She tries to get it to move but it just hisses at her. The only thing nearby to threaten it with is an overgrown zucchini on the kitchen counter, which her neighbor Lois insisted she have since she doesn’t believe Bea eats properly. She grabs the large vegetable and waves it at the insect who waves its spindly legs right back at her. Bea can’t help but notice that the specks of bright colors on its shell have gotten even brighter and appear to be the exact same colors of the scarf that June had been wearing at her appointment. She drops the zucchini and runs from the house, almost straight into the road. It’s the insect, now the size of a very large German Shepherd, who darts in front of Bea and blocks a Chevy pickup from hitting her. It then moves very slowly, a brownish gooey-like substance dripping from its hard shell, as it creeps back into the house. Bea quickly grabs her purse and races to her car.

“My patient has turned into a giant bug,” she tells her colleague Doctor Sadler, while trying to catch her breath after climbing the five flights of stairs to his office. “She may even be hurt. I don’t know what to do.”

Dr. Sadler knows what to do and gently tries to calm Bea down while writing a prescription for valium. She pleads with him to come to her house and witness the transformation himself. When they arrive, the front door is open and June is nowhere to be found. Bea is frantic as she searches every room, looking under furniture and opening cabinets.

“You see, all my crackers are gone,” she says, holding the empty box upside down. “I never even opened them. June has quite the appetite.”

“You’re imagining things,” Dr. Sadler says with a bit of trepidation. “You’ve been through so much lately with your marriage and Darren’s transition. It’s a lot to take in. We all know how hurt and angry you are.”

“It’s June that might be hurt or dead and this has nothing to do with my marriage. The only transition that is concerning to me is that my patient has turned into a bug.”

“No one can turn into a bug,” he says in an aggravated tone. Get this prescription filled and get some rest.” 

But Bea cannot rest. After Dr. Sadler leaves, she scours the house again to no avail. For all she knows, June could be dead from her injury. When the clock on the microwave reads 11:57pm, it’s time for a drink. She takes her glass of wine (filled to the brim this time) and plops onto the chaise on the porch. Perhaps she shouldn’t have threatened her with the zucchini. After all, she did end up saving her life. From what she can remember from the story by Kafka, Gregor Samsa’s family felt he became a burden after turning into an insect. They were selfish people who became upset that Gregor was no longer able to support them and ultimately ignored him until he starved to death. From the speed at which June is growing, she doesn’t appear to be on her way to fading away anytime soon, but maybe, especially as a therapist, she should have shown more empathy for her predicament.

It’s Lois’s damn rooster that wakes her when the sun comes up. It’s louder than normal, most likely because she’s still outside on the chaise, covered in what appears to be blood. After a few deep breaths, Bea realizes it’s spilled wine, but the glass is nowhere near. And then comes that hissing sound from the bushes. Bea jumps from the chaise and slowly makes her way off the porch and over to the shrubbery. Bending down, she sees two large eyes staring back at her. Backing up, she takes more deep breaths and it’s as if it’s a normal gesture when June pops out of the bushes and tries very gently to hand her the empty wine glass. She has grown overnight and is now almost the size of her two-hundred pound nephew Elliot, who plays quarterback for his high school football team but doesn’t quite have his dexterity. Bea wonders if the teenager in June the bug was tempted to imbibe in some of that wine. She grabs the glass before it shatters everywhere and finds herself actually smiling and a bit relieved when it appears June is as good as new scurrying into the house. They end up eating dinner together at the kitchen table, or what’s left of the kitchen table, after June decides the table is a much better seat than a chair. The after dinner clean up takes a lot longer than usual.

 Dr. Sadler stops by the office the next day to check on Bea. “I’ve been worried about you. Are you over believing your patient has turned into a bug?” 

“Oh, that,” Bea chuckles. “I’ve been watching too many horror movies.”

Lois keeps leaving zucchinis on the front porch. June is not at all fond of them. Lois phones Bea’s office one day to let her know that she was about to deliver some more vegetables but there appears to be a large creepy looking person making odd noises on her front porch.

 “I really can’t make out who it is through your trees, but I think I should call the police.”

“She’s a friend visiting from...New Jersey,” Bea finally says.

 “Well, that friend needs a makeover,” is all Lois can offer.

 That night, Bea tries to communicate to June that she needs to stay inside. It does not go well.

Bea hears from June’s father who wonders if she has been in touch. She puts him on speaker. “I only ask,” he says, “because she never forgets my birthday and, this time, she has. It’s the only time I hear from her. She usually sends a gift. So where’s my gift?” June can’t help but hiss.

On the evening news that night, right after The Real Housewives of New Jersey, there’s a young woman asking for help in finding her friend June who has been missing for  two weeks. She is accompanied by another friend who is holding up flyers with June’s smiling face. Bea wishes she could contact them and invite them over so they could see that June is alive (perhaps a little different looking), but that probably wouldn’t go over too well.  June crawls over to the TV and makes a bit of a wailing sound while hugging the screen, which soon has hundreds of tiny cracks across it. She needs to stop eating so much. Bea makes a mental note: no more Big Gulps or Big Macs or anything with the word Big in it to drink or eat.

And as the weeks pass, June appears to have stopped growing and so has Bea’s grocery bill. Thank God is all Bea can think. She can’t keep replacing furniture and appliances. June’s spirits seem to have calmed a bit after finding Bea’s audio tapes on meditation and getting a kick out of peeking through Lois’s windows, hearing her scream and then scurrying away.

“You’re imagining things,” Bea tells Lois every time she informs her of the large creature that peeks through her windows.

Dr. Sadler keeps stopping by the office every now and then to check on Bea. She finds this annoying and is tempted to invite him to dinner one evening to ask him if he thinks she is still imagining things.

Bea only works from her office two days a week now, until she can stop June from torturing poor Lois.  Some of her patients do not like the schedule change.

“There is less time for me now.” Her patient who is obsessed with aliens is practically in tears. “You know I don’t do Zoom.”

“It’ll all work out,” she assures him.

“I don’t know. The aliens might arrive any day now and turn me into one of them. That can’t happen can it? I mean, a human can’t turn into another species, right?”

Bea decides it’s best to remain mum on that one.