[Train of thoughts, phonecalls -- notes, anything that matters to Bennie's story. And to get her from one-mindset, into the next.]

Bennie was leaning against the desk of the CUPD, with the biggest arch in her spine, humanly possible. The office chair included wheels, a big enough distance to be fully outstreched, lazily and feline like. While elbows sought the desk in an attempt to rest her head on top of crossed wrists. Her hangover pounded her head in beat with the thumping of her own heartbeat. Any poor student walking in would be met with Bennie's hangover from hell. There was no doubt about that. Today, like many -- she would try and stick to desk-duty. Not able to face the heat, or the bustling chatter of Columtreal's finest. "Good god."  It was hard to remember events of last night. As nothing made sense to her, all was foggy and any images she could recall double visioned.
It didn't help she still felt lightly intoxicated. Or she thought she was.
Her phone buzzed on top of the desk, the vibration coursing through her like a chainsaw trying to cut through ferment and bones. When it kept buzzing she'd mutter a low grumble of "Alright... Alright." Moving her head sideways lifting an arm to the device as she'd slowly use the wheels of the chair in a motion so she could sit back upwards. The screen faced her, and she'd stare at the unidentified phone number. Curiosity always won and if she hadn't been curious enough, she'd likely would've let it gone to voice-mail. Instead her voice croaked. The many cigarettes making her already rasped voice, more hoarse. "Yeah, Hello?"

"Beneah... Good morning. I've listened to your voice-mail and I've called you with felt like great urgency." Urgency, after eleven AM -- because he could've already figured in what kind of state she would be in.

Bennie sighed at the voice of the white-male, sounding and knowing that he looked in the end of his fifties. White in the most traditional sense of white -- one that was finished with a PhD at some University and had hung his graduation thesis on his wall, along with his certificates of having studied psychology. The man was simple, and bland -- the way he liked his coffee, and his wife. He had a profound sound to his accent, that even through his device would smell of money and white-supremacy. Making her feel, like she was below him. And by his vision -- she was.
She remembered his features, clear as day, making Bennie wonder if his hand was to the side of his temple, index finger pressing sharply against the socket of his eye meeting a grew brow. While thumb would rest against his chiseled jawline. Even Bennie had to admit, he had been handsome once. Handsome still, if he had laughed more and had not taking himself and the world all that serious. But his lips had aged downwards, his sharp germanic nose upwards, like he needed to look over it, to look down at you. His once undoubtedly blonde full hairdo -- thinning, and by now a silver-grey, almost white. His white teeth aged by the preferable drink of neat scotch, and bland coffee. And all Bennie could do was sigh. She wondered if there were more lines on his features, how  this year would've weathered him even more. Picturing him the perfect picture of misery. To him -- She was. A train wreck. Never going to do anything good in her life lived in self-pity.

"Oh eh, Doctor Williams. Yeah.. I eh..." Before she could explain that she had accidentally called him whilst being drunk, and desperate he cut off the poor excuses of last night's phone call.

"You weren't planning to call? Such a shame, Beneah."
She hated being called Beneah. She hated him calling her Bennie too. Hell, she hated when  Williams called her anything at all. "You should consider taking your mental health more serious."  His long nose, scrunched up in judgement. For a psychiatrist you'd say he should be more open minded "Yeah." Defeat in Bennie's voice as they both knew this was a thing they had done many times before.

"Whilst I have you, Beneah. Why won't you tell me... what's on your mind?" He was too imagining Bennie and the way she liked to ridicule him, by mocking him silently mimicking his features, which she was doing on the other end of the line silently. This silence, confirmed this -- and he didn't need to see her, to know she was.
"I eh, just am fighting this terrible hangover, now would not be --"

"A good time?" He interrupted her, which made her sigh with annoyance like a teenager in the prime of puberty. "Yeah... aren't you like..--" She was looking for the words, her own hand gone to her forehead to press her palm in the middle of it. Like it would subdue the headache she was feeling. "--Tired of this thing we do?" She croaked out. The need to rasp her voice, as if her throat was just as dehydrated as the rest of her body was.
"I get paid to listen to you." he answered "Even by telephone."  Which made Bennie roll her eyes. Wishing she couldn't feel the eye-roll pressuring against the sockets of her eyes. "Yeah, and a whole lot, too and yet... you aren't really--"

"Beneah!" Like she was beneath him. A scold in his voice and his accent harsher -- that made him sound like he was born into money, and raised in private golf clubs. "I think it's a little bit early to start with the many uncreative insults you are ready to hurl at me, simply because it would make -you- feel better about yourself and the current spiralling of self-pity you find yourself in." He didn't give her time to answer.
"So, let me guess..."

For over two minutes he spoke, a crash-course over what seemed a life-time for Bennie, but was actually a year. Bennie kept the voice at a distance as he'd give her a grand speech she mocked. He reminded her she hadn't changed in the last twelve years he was her therapist, and that she by now -- was likely AGAIN out of money, into a relationship she had made toxic, in a place she loathed as much as she had loathed the last one she had resided at. A place she had been longer in than six months, but never longer than two years. He also reminded her that every time she COULD choose growth and character development she would call him -- before she was about to do something drastic. That should've change the human being she was. And that he expected the phone call on the minute -- and that every time she was doing worse than the last time. Bennie sputtered as the last time they had called she had attacked her own blond locks with a pair of scissors while being high on Oxy. A downfall. Even for Bennie. There was a reason you went to hairdressers, because no-one should want to live with the wild cut that did nothing to your features and did nothing for Bennie's at times already boy-ish looks. She had worn it combed back slickly, which had made her look like a budding lesbian instead of the pansexual polyamorous free-spirit she claimed to be.
"I was considering a buzz-cut this year." She joked. But honestly, she would likely draw more raging lesbians than the young guys she occasionally dated to make herself feel younger again.  The joke wasn't funny -- not for Williams at least. As he judged her for being a poor narrator of her own story. But he seemed to do much better, without needing regular bi-weekly or hell, bi monthly phonecalls.
"Oh wow." Bennie muttered. Perhaps she was -this- predicatable, or perhaps he was -that- good. But she seem to hate the fact she was at least impressed enough he had managed to give her a run-down and hit most nails on the head.

"I'm a cop now!" She snapped. Well. A rent-a-cop at a Univeristy campus in a small town that seemed to live off corruption and violence.
It was met with faltering laugh from the other end. A chuckle that wasn't fully permitted by the lips of the doctor.

"How's that going for you?"

Too quick of a response made her sound like she lied. "Great. I'm just great." She tugged her lips down "I'm trying to get promoted, you know?" A hint of hesitation there. She wasn't clear if she had any ambitions whatsoever to stay in Hathian, or to get promoted within the walls of the CUPD -- but she was desperate to make it sound like she in fact was doing things differently.

"Half of the boys in blue are alcoholics. Have you been drinking, a lot Bene-"

"No I haven't." She lied. "I haven't been drinking for like... weeeeks." She thickened her lie, poorly.

"You just told me you were combatting a hangover."

"Yesterday was an exception." She silently cursed under her breath.

"An exception where you got so drunk, you called your therapist you haven't spoken to in a year, hysterically in tears -- whilst slurring and rambling in riddles I'm not even sure I fully deciphered."

"Apparently so."

"At three in the morning?"

"Well..." She'd find her brain too slow to think of a quick witted response
and she took more than a couple of seconds to process it. "This hooker. or like, I don't know pornstar...  I've been trying to get to see, hasn't called me back yet. So.."

"A what?" He was confused, but didn't want to get into it, he was afraid to ask -- "Ben, just.. I'm getting paid by the minute, it's your money." he urged her.

"Yeah, it's my -father's- money.. so.. I know.. Like she's not like a streetwalker, I think.. more like, professional? "

"Beneah.. focus."

"Fiiiiine." She whined. "I'm not doing great.. doc. I eh, you know that van I traveled around with?"

"Yes, I recall your trust-worthy rust bucket." The hint of sarcasm evident.
"I'm actually surprised you made it all the way to New Jersey."

"I'm not in New Jersey, man.. I crashed it in this town close by New Orleans."

"New Orleans?"

"Yeah." She answered. "I can't stand the heat, or like the jazz music."

"How can you not like jazz music and live close by New Orleans?"

A pointless argument threatened to follow.

"I'm more into like, rock music.. and like blues, and electronic, and like...uh, new wave."

"New wave?"

"You lived through the eighties, dude. You're like a fucking fossil. You know what New Wave is."

"Beneah." He interrupted her "I'm not all that old.. besides.. We're getting of track here."

"Riiight, Jazz music."

"No Ben..." he finally sighed. His patience was evidently thinning, even if he'd strongly held on the thought that he made a lot of money from this call alone.

"You crashed your van somewhere close to New Orleans."

"Oh, yeah. So.. Yeah. I've been trying to get it fixed but like gave up on that, cause it was like driven off a pier. The water damaged all of my stuff and it's just not.. feasible to recover." She waited for him to repeat her last words, he silently wanted to echo 'You crashed your van off a pier?!' judgement there, but also a little bit of concern, but he didn't. He didn't want her to trail off any further. Which was easily done. As the woman did not only cope a personality disorder, but clearly had ADHD.

"So, I figured... like, this was a sign of the universe, or some other mumbo jumbo."

"God?" He asked.

"Nooo. Not god." She scoffed lowly.

"You don't believe in one." He recalled.

" I mean.."

"Beneah?"

"Yeah, Yeah. Anyways. I figured this might be my new thaaaang now. And perhaps I should, you know.. like.. swing my life around.."

"Settle down?"

"Settle down." Bennie nodded "Ish."

"Commit to something?"

"I can actually commit to -something-." He didn't need to say anything, she was already defensive as it was enough. She had never in fact, committed to anything.

"I.. I.. uh. Met a guy!"

"You met a guy?"

"Yeah!"  -- A longer pause. No satisfaction with her answer.

"And? Are you moving in together? Pregnant with your first child? Getting married?"

"Nooo.. no no, and definitely nope."

"So you're not committed to 'A guy'?"

"I'm committed to -that- guy. Ipso-Facto." She raised her finger, pointlessly. " I'm sooooo committed he can, like.. fuck me WITHOUT condoms!"

A loud sigh followed. She imagined him shaking his head in more judgement, or shame?

"Firstly, I don't really -want- to hear about your unstable and unsafe sex life, we've already came to terms that you are in fact highly promiscuous...Which is part of your personality disorder..  and secondly... Is that -really- your idea of commitment, Beneah?" He scolded holding back one more of his judgemental chuckles.

"No? I mean, disorder? Isn't it like, called different, these days...  but.. no.. like... I met his family, and shit. And like, at least one of his Aunt's liked me."

"Good for you Beneah, I can hear the wedding bells tolling."

"You.. don't?" She asked, missing the clear sarcasm.

"No." A chuckle escaped "I do not, no. I would not consider yourself the type of person that takes -anything- serious, especially committing to relationships."

"But I am."

Silence.

"I've been TRYING."  She snapped.  "Really. Okay?"

"So, you wanted to talk about your boy-troubles, and delve deeper into the father of your unborn children?"

"Don't you have like grandkids?"

"I do." He answered " I have three of them."

"Lucky you." Bennie said sarcastically.

"Lucky me." He said frustrated with Bennie.

"You met a guy?" Williams circled back "And you haven't been doing great?"

"But yeah, met a guy.. I mean, we've were doing okay, ish. Good. Too good? But like..He's cute, and dorky -- and I think he's struggling with a form of masculinity, but I kinda like find that extremely hot?"  Another sigh on the other end of the line "It's not like other guys I've ever -committed- to."

Doctor Williams was with his hands in his hair by now. "You've nev--"

"I did, yeah! I moved in with people, taken the next steps."

"BECAUSE --" He was losing his temper but quickly managed to correct himself  "You needed a place to stay."

"Well yeah, but.."

He couldn't cope with her useless arguments, any longer -- it was like talking to a brick wall."But you..--." He could only use profanity to level with the stubborn-mind that was Bennie " -- 'Fucked' it up?"

Silence.

She'd stare at the computer screen that requested a log-in code to access CUPD's desktop, but she wasn't a good multi-tasker.

"Bennie?" --

"Yeah. I fucked it up."

"So now you're spiralling out of control." He swallowed the 'Again' -- "And you're calling me to tell you what to do -- just so you can feel worse by doing exactly non of what I tell you?"

"Spot on, Doc. God you're good."

"You don't think I am." He'd smile gently. "But you're not doing great because you are what? Trying to break habits?"

"I'm predictable, I don't need to break habits."She stated

"Some things, you are. Others, you still surprise me each time you call, and sometimes it's good to get out of your comfort zone, Beneah. ." It wasn't a compliment but she took it as one, regardless.
"You have done this, though.. give or take, ten times before? What's different this time?"

"Ehhh.. four and a half." More silence -- it made her correct herself. "Six? Never Seven?"

A half smile coming from him , enough credibility there to have been interpreted as genuine.

"I don't know. I'm actually trying?" She answered.

But not getting the direct follow up of advice, she would talk over it.

"So, what should I do, Doc? Give me something like... sensible."

"What you should do, Beneah.. is to.. be a decent human being. You are scared of trying, because you're believing you are setting yourself up for disappointment, which is part of the process and growth, Ben. "

"Boom -- Done! I don't even litter anymore, these days, See. Character building right fucking there!" Corbin had rubbed off on her, she had been trying not to shoot her cigarettes off the streets. "I'm a changed woman, now. Thanks Williams.. Thank you for curing me and all my 'disorders' and wow, that over the telephone! You should get a fucking nobel price for mental -- what's the term? "

He'd bristle. "Beneah, 'nough of that.. You called me, remember?" but he continued with a last attempt to do what he was getting paid to do "Apologise, tell him why you resort into these repetitive fleeting habits. Tell him why you feel like the walls are caving in any time someone starts to care. And... tell him why you feel the strong desire to push him, and many others away."

"God. I don't want to talk about my daddy issues."

"You can't blame -everything- on your father. At one point in your life you're going to need to get over Jonathan and take a good look at yourself, Bennie."

"Did you just Bennie, me?"

"Beneah... I'm having another session in less than ten minutes."

"Oh." She'd look at her watch on her wrist.

"I'm going to hang up, now. Unless you're actually for once in your life listening to anything I'm saying. And follow through it."

"Nah. I don't see this conversation heading anywhere." He rolled her eyes at her, she didn't know.

"So why did you call?" A hint of intrigue there, every time she had her own reasons -- but it always turned into the same conversation. It lead nowhere. And yet. She always called. And he always called back.

"I don't remember."

"Did you want to vent? Talk about your feelings?"

"Eh." She rolled her shoulders.

"Right. Alright, Beneah. I'll talk to you in less than a year from now. I'll send your father the invoice."

"I'm not going to call you again..." She was convinced of this. He wasn't.

"Best of luck to you Bennie. Maybe write this down somewhere. It would be a whole lot cheaper, too."

Bennie chuckled A hoarse chuckle of thunder, a rumbling from her throat.
"Writing is for millenial hipsters that think they can rock haiku's and attend shitty open mic nights and leave as soon they read their shitty-prose."  He couldn't help it but give her a flicker of a laugh.

"Writing is for many things, Bennie. Some write to remember, others write to forget, or to.. make sense of things. I've suggested group therapy and AA meetings, but we've been over that before. Haven't we, Beneah?"

"I can't figure out if I like it better if you call me Bennie, or Beneah? Or if I hate both as equally."

"I know, Goodbye Ms. Pugh.. Go easy on yourself? And hydrate. It will help with your hangover." His voice softened -- she hadn't expected him to.

"That's even worse!"

He hanged up before she could thank him. For being so easily disliked -- but it did give her a sense of relief. Even if it hadn't led to groundbreaking new ways to analyse herself. Even if it didn't change anything.
It made her admire his patience, while she too loathed his judgement.

A sticky note was taken from the desk, and a pen with the CUPD Logo on it -- as she scribbled in all caps.

GET A NOTEBOOK 
BE LESS OF A CUNT
APOLOGISE

She'd stick it to the computer screen. Probably forgetting about it later.
A chance some of colleagues was going to find it and probably throw it in a bin. But Bennie did move from her desk, pocketing the phone away.
She needed more coffee, if she was going to survive this day.
Doing the exact opposite of hydrating.