The Year for November and May

By Courtney Meyers

The Year for November and May is both a complex, serious read and a light, bubbly read filled with flawed, fascinating and fun characters and also with lots of romance. If the reader looks past the superficial, he or she will find a layered story filled with symbolism. As mentioned, it does have its serious moments; yet, the story manages to become buoyant and to rise up to the surface over and over again for a bit of fresh air and an enjoyable swim. I would liken the book as “Chick Lit with a Serious Twist” because the world of mental illness is not usually written in a light-hearted, romantic way.

The book takes the reader into the life of Carrie who becomes a paralegal for a prestigious, defense medical malpractice law firm. The downtown firm represents hospitals and doctors within the big city. Her boss, Mr. Jeffrey Davis, Esq. (Jeff), one of the main partners at the firm of Todaro, Weltman and Davis, is an absolute narcissistic rogue, and Carrie unwittingly thinks she has fallen in love with him. However, as a result of Jeff's lying, cheating and gaslighting ways, she comes close to suffering another breakdown and losing her beloved job.

Carrie longs to become a “normal,” but her craziness eventually comes to light, and she gets found out by her coworkers, her boss and Human Resources. In the end, however, she overcomes and finds true love and success.

The Year for November and May is an inspirational read for anyone who believes in true love and who believes good will always trump everything in the end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Courtney Meyers
• Release date: Apr 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310033810

Courtney Meyers

My hometown is Marysville, Ohio from which I now reside. Ever since I learned how to read at four years old (fav book, The Adventures of Winnie The Pooh and Christopher Robin), I knew I wanted to become a writer and write a book of my own someday. It's been a life-long dream, and my hope is to write more books.The Year for November and May is a light read; yet, it addresses the issue of mental illness, in particular, bipolar disorder. Thus, the title for the book. I hope you as the reader will find it enlightening and inspirational for anyone you may know who suffers from a mental illness or for yourself. The book also touches on the issue of homeless people, and please know ten percent (10%) of author proceeds will go to Help for the Homeless, a local charity to benefit the community of Marysville, Ohio.I studied English and Literature at Otterbein College, a liberal arts college here in Ohio. I'm very grateful for the instruction received there at their university.

Book preview

Chapter One

Carrie could go into the memories and recall in detail the tragedy of her upbringing, especially during her young childhood. The images involved cigarettes, burns and knives. The worse as they say are the words, how they do cut deeply and stay etched within a person’s being, within their core.

She had studied about the development of the human brain, how it is established during childhood and teenage years along with its complex network of nerves extending out to the skin’s surface, which is sensitive to both cold and light touch. She understood that herein lies the mystery of mental illness and saw it as a case of whether the chicken or the egg came first. She knew mental disorders are attributed to genetics or conditioning depending upon your stance in the history of psychiatric theory. She supposed it was a possibility hers was biological, because she was adopted. Yet, it could also be attributed to conditioning, because the years before her adoption took place had been filled with abuse at the hands of an unstable family. Again, the chicken and the egg dilemma.

Carrie was a pretty woman. From a distance, she looked normal, and at times, unknowing people would envy her. To strangers, she seemed affluent. She had thick, long, wavy blonde hair which could look wild sometimes. When she let it become wild, it made her appear as if she had just rolled out of bed. Her eyes were beautiful and unusual, almost exotic, and were blue-green in color. They mystified people. Men especially liked them. They would stare and would look into them with intensity as if trying to solve her mysteries, her secrets.

Now, at thirty years of age having recovered from a breakdown six months earlier, she was trying to maintain a level of normalcy which involved keeping people at a distance. She could not let people get too close, or they would figure it out - that she was crazy - and that would be the end of it; whatever it was at the time.

Because of her breakdown from six months ago, Carrie had lost her job at the time, and it took all of the six months before she was able to find another one. However, the wait had been worth it. She ended up scoring a coveted position as a paralegal at a law firm which specializes in medical malpractice. It was a defense law firm whose attorneys represented doctors and hospitals. Her college medical background and previous job experience in the legal field had helped, and then an instant connection, attraction, almost a love at first sight with her future boss had sealed the deal. She had had to go through a second interview with Mr. Jeffrey Davis, Esq., in order to score the position. Mr. Davis was one of the partners at Todaro, Weltman and Davis.

Carrie thought back to the memory. It had been a late spring day in May that morning, and the flowers were starting to bloom throughout the city. She had awoken excited, full of energy and hope. She was trying to decide what to wear to the interview. It was important to pick the right outfit and look well put together. However, she refused to sacrifice fashion for professionalism. Because it was cool outside, she chose a blazer and paired it with a flirty pendulum skirt which pleated out into small ruffles and fluttered with movement when she walked. She chose high-heeled, plum pumps, each with a ruffled flower on top, and completed the outfit with a simple top and a designer purse she had purchased at a local thrift store.

Their first meeting had taken place at Mr. Davis’s office. For the second interview, he had suggested they meet for a drink at the bar of the Southern Hotel located across from the state courthouse. It was a historical place possessing class filled with old polished wood and memorabilia from the city in its younger days. On the walls, there were old, black and white photographs of the hotel and the surrounding streets which showcased horse-drawn buggies.

Carrie was excited to see Mr. Davis again. The thought of him gave her butterflies. When she stepped into the bar, somewhat apprehensive, she saw him sitting in a tall-back mahogany booth with a big grin on his face. She walked over toward him as he rose to greet her.

Carrie, it’s really good to see you again.

They shook hands.

It’s really good to see you, too, Mr. Davis, she said with a smile matching his.

Let’s sit down and get a drink. What do you say?

She nodded her head and smiled once more.

First of all, right off the bat, I want you to call me Jeff.

She blushed and said, Okay… Jeff.

He laughed. That’s better, none of that formal stuff. You see, I’m looking for a partner to help me, someone to have fun with and share a laugh with. I believe work should be fun. You should wake up and want to go to work every day.

That sounds wonderful.

Just then the waiter walked by and asked them for their orders.

I’d like a Jack and Coke, Jeff ordered. What would you like, Carrie? It’s on me.

She ordered a glass of white wine, and the waiter turned and left them.

So, Jeff began, tell me some more about your experience. What can you offer our firm?

She went into an explanation of her work history and education. She also expressed her passion in dealing with both medical and legal work and how the combination fascinated her. When the waiter returned with their drinks, she asked Jeff about the company, his role within it, what types of clients they had and any information he could give about the position.

With pleasure, he replied, and he went on and gave the history of the firm and of his own partnership within the company. He even discussed the nature of a few cases with her.

Carrie, indeed, found it all fascinating, and her eyes opened up wide with disbelief when Jeff confided a bit of gossip about the court administrators and opposing counsel. He then changed the subject and told her about a recently settled case leaving out the names involved.

Here this guy is diabetic in his late sixties, and he wants to get a penile implant. He chuckled a little bit when he said this. He went to multiple doctors. They all turned him down, but finally he persuaded one of them to do the surgery anyway.

Oh my gosh, with diabetes, that’s really risky. Isn’t it?

Yes, it is. Poor guy, it didn’t take, and now he has an infection he can’t get rid of, which as you know is serious for a person with that type of condition.

She could not stop her curiosity. And his penile implant doesn’t work?

With bluntness, Jeff replied, Nope, he still can’t get it up.

Shocked, Carrie sucked in a deep breath of air and held it and then widened her eyes at him. Jeff looked into her eyes with mischief, and like two small children who had tried but could not behave, they burst into laughter.

When they settled down, she felt a pang of guilt and said, That’s terrible. We shouldn’t be laughing like this at him, the poor man.

Jeff straightened himself. Yes, yes, you’re right. We shouldn’t.

They sat in silence for a while taking in the bar and the few people around them.

Jeff turned his gaze toward her, and a small wistful smile passed over his face. He paused and then asked, Hey, do you want another drink?

She hesitated, Uh, no thanks, and added, I’m feeling a bit tipsy from this one.

Ah, he teased, a cheap date.

He began to laugh at the old joke. Carrie knew she should have been offended, but found herself laughing along with him. She could not help but like him, in spite of his cheekiness and his obvious rogue manner. She supposed it added to his allure, along with his good looks. He was in his early forties and had thick dark hair which swept across his forehead above his clear blue eyes. Because of his boyish looks, he had an innocence about him, which was probably what allowed him to get away with inappropriate comments.

Tell you what. I don’t need to think any more about it. The job’s yours if you want it. I’d like you to start this Monday if possible.

Yes, yes! I accept. Thank you. Thank you so much, Jeff.

They ended their meeting with plans for their first day working together. They shook hands with each other outside in front of the hotel before parting.

I’ll see you Monday, said Jeff.

She said goodbye to him, and they parted and walked in separate directions. Carrie tried to contain her euphoria and tried to keep a big grin from coming up all over her face. A small smile broke through, though, and it felt good.

Chapter Two

During the six months Carrie had been unemployed before her job offer came through from Attorney Davis, she had suffered from another bout of major depression. She had been listless and lethargic lacking motivation; the days gray, one following another with little hope. She had missed her friends from her previous job and her friends from before her breakdown who were a bad influence and who she gave up, the ones who got stoned and drank too much.

Carrie sat on her couch, cuddled up with a small throw, watching TV without really seeing it. The memories of her breakdown made a comeback and began to crowd out her other thoughts. Everything went out of her sight until all she could see were the memories. Images of the psychiatrists, the state mental hospital, the fallout from her friends, the drugs and the alcohol flooded her mind. She found herself looking back at the time she had spent with Doug, a dear close friend who had seemed more like a brother than a friend with whom she had lost contact. He felt like a long lost family member now.

Doug had insisted on taking her to see a psychiatrist, state-funded, as she was broke at the time. The appointment had taken place in the evening, and Doug had driven her and had waited outside in his car. The door to the office had been left open with the receptionist gone for the day, and Dr. Feldman, the psychiatrist, had been waiting for her arrival.

Ms. Douglas, Dr. Feldman said as he stepped out into the reception area.

Yes, she replied, and they shook hands. It’s nice to meet you, she added.

Nice to meet you as well. Please. He gestured toward his office.

She walked through the entrance, and he followed. They both sat down, he at his desk, she at one of the two chairs positioned in front of him.

Ms. Douglas, please tell me why is it you came to see me today?

She had decided she would confess and tell him the truth about everything, the memories, the flashbacks, the nightmares, the paranoia and the voices. Doug had directed her to do so, stating it was the only way for her to get help.

In a shaky voice, she began, Well, first it began with the insomnia being unable to sleep from having nightmares. Then, I was afraid to go to sleep, because they were scary, and then…

She paused, thinking. Then, the memories came, along with the nightmares, and…

He interrupted her. You said memories. What type of memories?

Well, um, they came from my childhood when I was a little girl before I was adopted.

You were adopted?

Yes.

Go on, please.

Well, I’d never had them before, the memories and the nightmares. Then, I couldn’t sleep, and now I’m scared all the time, shaking. See. She showed him by putting her hand out, palm down. It visibly shook. It’s been so long since I’ve had a good night’s sleep. I’m afraid all the time. It seems like of other people, what they might do to me, and then I began hearing voices, and my friend, Doug…

He interrupted her again. Wait, you heard voices during this time?

Yes, I think it was from the lack of sleep.

Are you still hearing the voices even now?

Yes, sometimes, not all the time and not very much now, though.

What do they say?

Um… She hesitated feeling unsure, trying to sense if she could trust him. Well, um, they say things like ‘watch out, he wants to hurt you,’ or ‘they’re coming to get you.’ I don’t know, she said, frustrated. It’s just nonstop sometimes, and I can’t stop thinking. My brain won’t stop thinking, and I can’t sleep. She then cried a little, feeling sorry for herself.

Dr. Feldman held out a tissue box for her, and Carrie took a tissue, grateful, and wiped her tears.

He then asked her, Have you suffered a lot of abuse, trauma?

Yes, as a child.

How old were you at the time of your adoption?

Seven years old.

Your adoptive family, did you have a good home life with them?

Oh, yes, I loved my new family. I was especially close to my new father. He took good care of me.

Please, go on and tell me what happened before then, before you went to live with your adoptive family.

Carrie went into a brief history of her earlier life, stressing the more traumatic events, and she also told him about the new memories, the flashbacks and the nightmares. When she was finished, she looked down at her hands, embarrassed, waiting for the doctor’s assessment.

Well, after hearing your story, first, I’d like to commend you on having been able to go forward with your life and become a productive adult. There are quite a few people who are unable to do so, and they become hospitalized or they become disabled, unable to work.

Dr. Feldman paused and took a breath as he held her gaze. He was a man who looked to be in his mid-fifties, tall with brown graying hair with a matching beard and mustache. Carrie imagined he must have been lanky in his youth.

His eyes penetrated her and took on a more sinister look. Repressed memories are quite common in women. A woman who has experienced a great amount of trauma can repress her memories for many, many years. Now, at this point in time, these memories or flashbacks seem real to you, and your body and mind respond as if they’re happening in the present because they do not know the difference. Because of this, I would say you’re suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.

She let out her breath in relief. She was glad to hear that she was not so nuts after all. She knew about PTSD after reading about war veterans who suffered from it.

So, it’s treatable, right?

Yes, yes, it will take some time, probably a combination of psychotherapy and medication.

Great, great! she enthused. I’m all for it.

Wait, there’s more.

She sensed the doctor was rather sadistic and put her defenses up once again.

I do believe you could have a form of paranoid schizophrenia or a schizoaffective disorder. I would have to talk more with you in order to determine which it is. If it’s schizoaffective in nature, it will pass within six months. However, if it persists, I would have to diagnose you with paranoid schizophrenia which, of course, is more serious. He said the last part almost with excitement.

Her heart sank. She knew she should not have told him about the voices and paranoia, but she needed to know. She wanted to cry, but could not. She felt defeated and with resignation asked the doctor to explain what could be done. She was then surprised to hear him go on into great detail about the study of Dr. Sigmund Freud and his theories about mental illness in relation to its effect on women.

Carrie became disgusted. She thought Freud was considered archaic in the practice of psychiatry. She abhorred Freud and had detested studying him in high school and in college. She had also studied a lot about psychiatrics on her own, more interested in other theories knowing her brain did not work right and wanting to find out what could be done. Even in high school and in her twenties, she knew she was far from the norm in her way of thinking. Yet, it had been easier to hide back then.

With arrogance, Dr. Feldman droned on about the famous psychiatrist, women and their sexuality. To her, Dr. Sigmund Freud had been a sexist man. She could not stand sexism. It was apparent to her this doctor’s beliefs were influenced by discrimination. At the injustice of the man’s prejudice, she found herself wanting to explode. I don’t care about any of that, she snapped, and she then declared, I don’t believe in him.

The psychiatrist nodded his head with smugness as if familiar with protests against the renowned doctor. I can assure you his theories are strong and well-studied, and his observations, assessments and treatments are valid and have been in practice for decades. While stating this, he looked at her with contempt, believing himself to be superior in