Dr. Tarin Adler

001://Rare Vinyls

It had been years since Tarin visited Montreal, and even on that excursion, he chose not to see his father. Now, that he was back, that decision was another regret, especially after walking through the deserted townhouse the old man had owned and left to him. It laid abandoned for several months after his passing before Tarin finally ventured inside. Cobwebs filled every corner with a veil of dust resting on the personal possessions, turning black piano keys grey with it and aging framed photographs beyond their years. Everything seemed vintage, but one object in particular actually was: a stereo from the early fifties.

The bed is filled with all the things we haven’t said to each other.

“I was a marketing major. I figured that if I could convince a panel of judges that I was Miss Teen USA material, I could convince anyone to buy anything,” she said, smiling. When Dr. Adler began to tell her that she hadn’t done anything wrong, she had to refrain from rolling her eyes. That sort of thing was easy for people to say, but it wasn’t true. She had her public persona to think about; she was supposed to be a wholesome southern beauty queen, not just another slutty college girl. “I think people think I’m stupid. People have thought so my whole life, but I never believed them until all this happened. It just seems like if I were as smart as I’d always thought I was, I should’a seen it comin’. But I trusted him with everything in me. Like an idiot would do. It sort’a makes me feel like everyone’s right about me bein’ nothing more than a pretty face, you know?”

A quiet chuckle fell from his lips. "It's a beneficial skill to have. I suppose we all market ourselves in some way.--Did you not have a chance to pursue a career in marketing, though?" His fingers interlaced with the hands folding in front of him, as he attentively listened. By the end, his body shrugged before offering a counter-argument. "You're too young to remember, but during the eighties, there was a situation that was similar to yours. The Miss America winner at the time had consented to taking nude photos, and somehow Penthouse magazine was going to publish them /without/ her consent. With pressure, she resigned, but she pursued other things. People eventually forgot the incident, and they respected her. They saw her as an actress and a business woman, not as an idiot for trusting someone. Vanessa Williams is only one example, my dear. Everyone has been taken advantage of, but we can never let it bury us."

“Unfortunately so. Perhaps after I retire, I can learn how… save some other ambitious young soul from overexerting their self.” She let a soft, fleeting smile flicker across her lips. The idea of retirement was so delicious, so tempting. With the trust from her parents, she could have retired at eighteen – and so could her children – but she wanted desperately to build something of her. “No, it’s not. My mother… when she was sober, she was amazing. But she was rarely sober, and my siblings were always too wild to share the burden with me.” She ducked her head then, letting a soft laugh leave her lips. Vera had always been self-reflective, always aware of her faults, but could never admit to them… Well, until now. “That’s an accurate description, yes. I have trouble falling asleep sometimes because I’m planning out the next day, week, month… year even.” His next question gave her pause. She took a deep breath, using the time to think about how she was going to answer that question. With anyone else, it would be a blanket statement about general happiness despite the lack of time… but she needed to tell the truth right now. “It’s, um… it’s not as difficult as when we do interact, honestly. That’s much harder than not speaking to him at all.” And as she spoke, said those words out loud for the first time, it was like a weight was lifted off her chest.

"If I'm being honest, it sounds as though it might be quite successful, if you do ever consider it." Although, to think of her retiring, in spite of only knowing Vera for a matter of hours, was a task in itself to imagine properly. He could understand it, though, especially given her earlier circumstances. "You seemed to have turned the situation into something much more positive. I can't honestly say that any family is perfect. We all have to make the best of what's dealt to us, and you certainly have." A soft smile was given to her, nodding while he listened to her; however, he refrained from following it up immediately by her pause. Not wanting to interrupt the moment she was taking for herself, he waited patiently for her to speak again. When she did, the reason for their session was clearer than it had been. "I'm sorry for that," he started. "How long has your marriage been like this?"

They tried to think it over, just how long it had been since they didn’t have something pumping through their body, and how long was the longest they’d been without Klonopin, or Oxy, or anything else they liked. They’d given themself some slack prior, that it wasn’t some addiction if they didn’t take one certain drug each day, even if it was something else. “A couple of days? I don’t know to be honest. I don’t really keep track of much.” They kept their place clean enough for guests, but it was hardly immaculate, just a crappy apartment. At his question, they looked Tarin over, shrugging. “Aren’t informants supposed to look normal? —But, yeah, okay. Is this like a surprise visit at a random time, or something?” They didn’t like not having details. Edie liked knowing what was going on as much as they could. “Yeah. I have a lot of bad junk up there,” they said, pointing to their head, as if to refer to their mind. “It makes good trips few and far between. But as long as I know that I’m going to be tripping, I can try and keep it as positive as possible.”

In response to her vague answer, Tarin reached over to the side table, next to where he was sitting. Pulling out the drawer, his hand took out a notebook that was the perfect size to slip into a pocket, something portable and convenient for the every-day. "This might just be a better solution for both of us," he said, handing it to her. "Carry this with you. When you take a drug, write it down. I'd recommend not using the actual name of the drug, naturally for privacy reasons, but think of a key to it that'll do the same trick." To her comment about his lack of normality, he gave her a look. "I'll consider that a compliment, my dear. When you're off from work, I can stop by when it's convenient for you, but within the week. I don't believe I need to use a blitz attack. I'm not the type to knock down doors." Their conversation had mostly been about the chemical side of her condition, outweighing the psychological side, but they went hand-in-hand, creating a vicious cycle. If one portion could be eliminated, there was a better way to navigate the cause. "What do you think about when you're trying to turn them positive?"

@drtarinadler

Tarin had been a psychiatrist for nearly two decades. No matter how much that stung his vanity, the scales could balance from the amount of experience they brought with them. What he had learned was that there was a different type of dynamic when he sat down with someone that he knew rather than a complete stranger. Ironically, the strangers were sometimes easier than those he had previous encounters with. From the way Kenny held himself, he had an idea that this might be one of those cases.

Danielle knew that she was being unreasonable. The rational part of her knew that it wasn’t her fault that Spencer had been assaulted – but there was a part of her that still blamed herself for not being there for the other soldier, before and after the event. Since she and Spencer were basically family, the other woman didn’t have anywhere to turn when Danielle ignored her calls, which probably had its hand in why she was in rehab now. The blonde didn’t say anything to the doctor, however, as she knew he’d just throw another retort at her. Instead though, he then mentioned that he would be asking a personal question, and Danielle’s spine stiffened. This had all been personal – but Dani liked to divulge at her own pace. Still, she listened, and when he was finished, Danielle bit the inside of her cheek. 

Unfortunately, he couldn't guarantee that Danielle would ever come to terms with fully letting go of her responsibility in the horrific situation with Spencer. It was something that was a natural reaction, and overriding those feelings was much like rewriting the human genome. It was a sense that was engraved in humanity. It was, however, his responsibility to lessen her self-blame as much as possible, and that was one of the challenges he would have to face. To get there, it would take getting to the root, wherever that was.

“Of course Tokyo would be, but that’s why it should be here. Where better to test a realistic robot, than in an unexpected location? It’d be absolutely mental to even imagine that. I mean, if people told you there was a hyper-realistic robot in a cafe in Montreal, would you really believe them? Probably not.” Monty reasoned, chuckling softly. “There’s nothing wrong with colds terms. I like analyzing people as well. It doesn’t make me a cold person. It simply means I’m a people watcher.” Monty argued, shrugging to the man. When the other’s hand extended, Monty took it and shook it softly. “It’s the moment where they have to put down the dog. It really screws with me.”

Tarin's shoulders shrugged. "Probably not," he agreed, echoing the other's words. "A better experiment, to me, would be if you did tell a group of individuals that one of them within the group was an android, and see how they would react, even though there's no android at all. I'd imagine everyone would be looking for signs, over-analyzing each other. It'd be terribly amusing, in a morbid way." Casually, he took a sip of his tea as he listened. He could gorge himself on different perspectives. "In my experience, people believe they're merely subjects instead of human beings when they know they're being 'analyzed.'--What do you do for a living?" His lips eventually formed a soft frown at the answer behind the tears, nodding with understanding. "Do you happen to have a dog of your own?"

Monty smiled and wiped his tears with the napkins before placing them back on the table and shaking his head. “With how fast science is progressing, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had created perfectly human-like skin.” Monty shrugged, chuckling to himself. “Ah. So you must love analyzing people then?” Monty asked, a smile growing on his lips once more. “A little, yeah. I’m uh… My name is Monty. Sorry for the somewhat awkward intro.”

Tarin shrugged casually, as if being introduced to a man crying before talking about robotics was everyday. He had seen weirder circumstances, to be fair. "Artificial intelligence is more of an idle interest than anything I know too much about, but I could imagine the same. Tokyo might be a more appropriate place to see that than a cafe in Montreal, though." He gave a breath of a laugh, somewhat amused and somewhat empty, in between the two. "I love figuring people out, let's say. Analyzing is a cold term." With a matching smile to the other, his hand was extended. "It's a pleasure meeting someone in an unexpected way. I'm Tarin. Nothing to be concerned about with showing a bit of emotion. What was the moment in the book that brought this all on, by the way?"

Vera snorted, her lips quirking upward in a hint of amusement. “I think you’re right. Unless, of course, I master cloning in the next few weeks and I’m able to be in more than one place at a time.” That was a dream of hers, actually. If she could have more time, or clone of herself, she could get so much more done. “Oh, um… thank you. That’s really nice to hear.” It wasn’t often that she was appreciated, even by a relative stranger, for all that she did. “From what I can remember, yes. My parents weren’t… reliable, to put it lightly – my father was always gone and my mother was always inebriated. I kept things together in their absence. That compulsion for control and order led to determination and drive as I aged.” Vera shrugged her shoulders, almost unsure of how to respond. “We’re both very career oriented, and his law firm keeps him busy. Most of the time, we don’t even sleep together… or see each other away from the children, really.”

"That might take more than an online course..." he lightly teased with a matching smile. His head bowed vaguely in response to her thanks. From the pause in it, it gave him the impression that it wasn't a typical occurrence, or it paired well with the type of modesty Tarin believed she had when it came to her own accomplishments. If he had to assume, she wasn't the kind to stop and take appreciative look at what she was able to achieve. "You should be quite proud. It's not an easy task to pick up the reins on an entire household, especially so young." His lips twisted in a grin while his brow furrowed, listening to her self-assessment. "It sounds as though you're doing part of my job for me, my dear. Although, I can't find fault in it. Does it feel sometimes that you can't switch it off? For example, when you do try to take time to relax, are you still thinking of the next thing?" Tarin nodded just a few times as she added pieces about her life to the chart in his mind. "Is that difficult? That you don't interact very much these days?"

Edie was never a good judge of themself. Really, though, who was? They could give the most negative feedback on something positive they did while giving a neutral, disinterested view of real issues. “I wouldn’t call it a habit. I just like the high every once in a while. Plus, when I’m achy from work, it’s a nice relief.” At the prospect of the doctor coming to their apartment, they blanched. Even if they didn’t have more shit they couldn’t remember, it was a strange thought of someone actually being able to see the internal mess projected into a 450 square foot shit hole. “Um… yeah. It might be smarter. You’re not going to like… report me or something, right?” They tried to trace through their apartment, try to remember where any bottles, or baggies, or any stray pills may have been left in their own stupors. “Shit, okay.” They paused, taking in his reaction and question. It was definitely something they didn’t expect, surprise clear on their own face. “Um, it’s not that. I like it from time to time, but I like to know when I’m going to trip. I don’t like when my stuff is laced unless I specifically do it myself.”

From a medical standpoint, it wasn't the type of answer that was of much help to him. Usually when people were dependent on something, they didn't see it as much of a habit until they didn't have it anymore. "What's the longest period of time you've gone without it, would you say?" he asked while he gave them a moment to process another idea: the prospect of meeting them at their home. He wasn't expecting the place to be a model used in Home and Garden. Honestly, he had the idea that it would be just some room to sleep without much else attached to it. At their question, he gave a small smile. "Do I look like an informant?--Jail would be counter-productive, in my opinion. I'll only be a visitor." Tarin continued to look over at them, seeing the unexpected expression on their face. He had to admit there was a small amount of pride in causing it. At least he hadn't completely succumbed to the power of being glued to the safe, office habitat. "Fair enough. I've never taken them, personally. It's different to read about the effects than it is experiencing them. I'd imagine you've had at least one bad trip?"

She thought about the kind of job she’d like. “I don’t really know. I think I just wanna do something that feels useful,” she said. Her face twisted in pain at his question. “Actually, I don’t think most people like me.” She sighed. She hated telling this story; she hated having to relive it, and most of all, she hated the way other people’s opinions changed about her as soon as they heard it. “After my reality show got cancelled, I was in college for a while, and I really loved it. I was datin’ this boy, and we were in love, you know? It was the real deal. But he graduated before me, and we decided maybe it’d be best if we took a break while I finished school. But then, the next thing I knew, he’d sent all my pictures – personal pictures – to gossip sites. Some people get a lot of sympathy when that happens, but I didn’t. People called me the most horrible things you could imagine. And they were all right.” She frowned. “That’s why I don’t go to America very often anymore.” She ran a hand through her hair as she looked down in her lap, avoiding eye contact with him.

"That's a good start," he smiled at her, following with the idea of her future. "When you were in school, what were you studying specifically?" Sutton was probably known in the public eye as someone to simply ogle, someone that wasn't given credit for being an actual human being. She did have insecurities, hidden dreams, potential. It felt unfortunate for her to be seen in just one shade. "I'm sorry that happened to you because it shouldn't have. Despite what some people might say, it's actually not immoral to send something you think will please your partner. Its your trust that was violated, and there’s no reason to feel ashamed of it.--Why do you think they were right?" he asked, brows knitting with sympathy and curiosity.

“Really, really. Perfect, maybe. But not a saint.” She grinned, letting out a soft laugh. “But I am particularly likable, I’ll agree with that.” Smirking, Hadley crossed one leg over the other as she thanked the bartender as they brought over the two drinks, picking up the glass and taking a sip before speaking again. “Ah yes, I hear that might be where it got its name.” She smiled with a shrug, “You think that’s where home is? I’m sorry doc but… how do you not know where home is?” An eyebrow raised in curiosity as she asked the question. “My whole life, actually. Minus a few spare years in Vancouver for school.”

"Saints are hardly perfect, anyways. It's fitting. I'd rather know a devil that makes no bones about what they are than a saint that doesn't even try." Lazily, Tarin swirled the straw already in his drink, letting the cubes swim around the glass. He laughed quietly at the consensus before turning his head back to face her. "I'm not too sure, to be honest. What's your definition of home? Where you lived the longest? Where you grew up? Where family is? Or something completely different?" Finally, the glass was picked up, taking an experimental sip before another, setting down by the time she finished speaking. "Always Canada?" he asked, subtly astounded somehow. "I have the strangest urge to start Never Have I Ever after hearing that."

Danielle took in the doctor’s words, but for someone as stubborn as she was, Dani didn’t believe him. Not when the answer to his last question was, “Yeah.” Danielle spoke quietly, her words heavy. “But she had the right to. I understand where she was coming from.” The complexity of their relationship wasn’t something that she could get into right now, and explain it to its fullest. It was ten years worth of ups and downs, after all – trying to condense it was difficult. “After I was discharged, I moved here… kind of started over with my family and everything.” She paused. “And then I ran into an ex and we started seeing each other again.” Looking back up at the doctor, Danielle grit her teeth, hating to divulge all of this to a relative stranger. Therapy was odd. “Spencer had been there for me before I ever met this person the first time, during it, and then after when they broke my heart.” Taking deep breaths through her nose as she spoke, Dani found it easier to concentrate if she settled the swirling rush of emotions in her chest, so she leaned forward to grab the mini-rake and start drawing in the zen garden again. “We were more than best friends – you know, when I wasn’t with the other person. But when I got here, I kind of cut contact with her and focused all my energy into the person i’m with now. But, uh… she kept calling…” Trailing off, Danielle’s heart began to hurt. “And that’s when it happened.” Alluding to the kidnapping, rape, and torture, Danielle unconsciously stabbed the rake into the sand in frustration. “I wasn’t there for her when she needed me most – as her best friend. Instead, I was touching someone else while some son of a bitch was putting his hands on her. And I didn’t even know; because I didn’t care.” Finishing, Danielle stabbed the sand again with the rake and then knocked it over so that it rested lifeless against the garden. “So, yeah, I get why she blames me. I blame me too.” 

Tarin was silent the entire time she spoke. It wouldn't do any good to interrupt her, even if it was in an attempt to immediately sway her opinion of her own judgement against herself. He would be spoiling the opportunity he had to gather information to help her and do his job effectively if he altered the path she was laying out. The most he could do was offer encouraging glances while he listened to every word wrenched from her soul. He watched as the emotions were splayed across her face with pain underlying all of them. "I'm sorry for what happened to Spencer," he spoke sincerely, "but you're taking responsibility for something that wasn't within your control, and I wish saying that alone could help you understand how truthful it is." He moved to the edge of his seat, thinking over everything that was said. "This is a personal question, but they're all going to be like that, I'm afraid.--Was there a particular reason why you and Spencer weren't a permanent couple? Was it because the person you're with now reappeared when they did?"