Discussion of Treatment
It's after he leaves Eddie, after breakfast, that Harvey finally realises that he missed his medication last night. And this morning.
That's not good.
(Or is it?)
Of course it isn't. Last time, last time after I went off it, I --
(You were fair. Balanced. You listened.)
...but I don't want to. Not anymore.
(No? Really?)
No. Really.
(You sound so sure.)
I am.
(You are?)
Yes.
(Completely sure?)
I --
(Not completely. Nonono. Never completely.)
More than half.
(But half is all you need.)
But I don't...
(Go on, Harvey. Be fair about it.)
But I don't want to do this anymore.
(It isn't about what you want. It's about what's fair.)
He digs the coin out of his pocket, feeling a strength of repulsion at the feel of warm silver in his palm that surprises even him. He doesn't want to do this, and he hates -- yes, hates -- that he has to, anyway.
The coin sings out, uncaring, unfeeling, as he throws it in the air. It comes up clean. (No!) And now all Harvey has to do is figure out how to get the medication.
He could call someone. (Or he could hold up a drugstore.)
He flips again. It comes up burnt, this time. And he starts making plans to go out tonight.
-----
The robbery itself goes off without much difficulty. Much. Choosing a smaller place, Uptown, and calling ahead to be sure they had what he needed, that had helped. He's still racing sirens for blocks, bag full of boxes of pills rattling in his pockets, but he loses them eventually.
And that night, he takes his medication.
...after tiredly flipping for it, first.
That's not good.
(Or is it?)
Of course it isn't. Last time, last time after I went off it, I --
(You were fair. Balanced. You listened.)
...but I don't want to. Not anymore.
(No? Really?)
No. Really.
(You sound so sure.)
I am.
(You are?)
Yes.
(Completely sure?)
I --
(Not completely. Nonono. Never completely.)
More than half.
(But half is all you need.)
But I don't...
(Go on, Harvey. Be fair about it.)
But I don't want to do this anymore.
(It isn't about what you want. It's about what's fair.)
He digs the coin out of his pocket, feeling a strength of repulsion at the feel of warm silver in his palm that surprises even him. He doesn't want to do this, and he hates -- yes, hates -- that he has to, anyway.
The coin sings out, uncaring, unfeeling, as he throws it in the air. It comes up clean. (No!) And now all Harvey has to do is figure out how to get the medication.
He could call someone. (Or he could hold up a drugstore.)
He flips again. It comes up burnt, this time. And he starts making plans to go out tonight.
-----
The robbery itself goes off without much difficulty. Much. Choosing a smaller place, Uptown, and calling ahead to be sure they had what he needed, that had helped. He's still racing sirens for blocks, bag full of boxes of pills rattling in his pockets, but he loses them eventually.
And that night, he takes his medication.
...after tiredly flipping for it, first.