Play It as She Lays

Lucille is lying complacent, fat, and happy in a hospital bed. She has been 51/50′d. For those not the know, this is when they come after you with tranquilizers. A forced rest, perfect for her head.

The doctor says she’s in for a full recovery.

The other night, Harry had broken up with Lucille. Actually, they had broken up in January. Lucille had merely run into him outside a bar in downtown San Francisco (what are the odds!), and their reunion was punctuated with bourbon and memories, and what fun to see him!

But this of course did not last, and Lucille knew that upon waking up in his bed the next morning. There’s nothing like the morning after, when it’s clear they won’t call you. After a brief goodbye, it was over (again) and Lucille went home and layed into the wine like she was going for a prize.

Lucille had come to San Francisco by way of New York City. There had a been a Harry there, too. And a Roger, and a Philip, and countless other one night stands she could name on infinite hands. And there had been long drives to the Berkshires, arriving at quaint New England brunch places and getting drunk on mimosas, alone, at 9am. She just couldn’t get away with that behavior in New York.

And so Lucille had had her New York City nervous breakdown. And then flew to San Francisco. The plane ride had been turbulent, physically and emotionally. She hadn’t saved any of the men’s numbers into her phone. With no one to call, she arrived in a new city with a Craigslist apartment and a Tinder bio that was probably passed around many bars with many laughs.

After her San Francisco nervous breakdown, Lucille is languishing in the psychiatric ward when she glances over at her chart. It reads her diagnosis as: Nervous Depressive Neurosis.

But let’s take this with a grain of salt. Lucille is just fine, thank you very much.

She will, afterall, make a full recovery.