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Chapter 1
There’s a sign just off of Highway 50 that invites the good people of America into the friendly town of Dunston, Iowa. The sign is surprisingly big, considering almost everything else in Dunston is small. There’s a crimson sun rising above a golden cornfield. And beneath the sun, in dark purple letters reads: Welcome to Dunston, the middle of Middle America. Dunston prides itself on anonymity. It’s the kind of town that people only discover exists when they drive cross-country and have to take a leak. Like a thousand other little towns across the nation, Dunston limits itself to providing all the bare necessities for human existence: food, gas, and liquor. And that’s exactly what motorists see once they make it past the cheery sign. On two of the corners are filling stations, a Texaco and an Amoco, providing man with the ultimate choice: which station to purchase gas. On another corner is a cheap diner with a neon sign spelling “-AT,” the “E” long since been burned-out. And on the last corner is a dingy little liquor store, always offering the same beer specials. Dunston, Iowa. America. A good place to dream yourself out of. And a place where I’ve long since been chained in by my shoulder blades.
The blinds were closed and the air was heavy. Gina Whitehall sat in the black pleather couch, her knees touching, her feet spread apart. Her hands were in her lap fiddling nervously with her pleated skirt. I watched her, my face serious, my heart sneering.
Gina was an attractive young woman in a street-walker sort of way. She had coal-black hair and eyes dark enough to hide her pupils. She was what I call top-heavy. I don’t think she wore a bra. Not that I noticed those kinds of things.
“So tell me, Gina,” I said in a fatherly voice. “What should we talk about today?”
She just shook her head and looked at the floor. Feigning innocence and such.
“Still feeling down, Gina? Like the whole world is closing in on you?”
She didn’t answer for a moment. Then she looked up and nodded slowly, carefully. “I…I just can’t stop feeling sad. Hopeless. I’ve got problems nobody understands…”
I wanted to laugh and slap her face. I didn’t. I was a professional. It was my job, what I got paid for. Talking to people about their problems and reassuring them that everything would be okay. Feeding them lies. Better than the truth.
“When did this sadness begin?” I asked. Important for me to know. My duty as a psychologist.
“I don’t know. Seems like forever. I mean I suppose I can remember feeling happy at some point, but not since…I guess not since I was a real little girl.”
I nodded and scribbled some gibberish in my notebook. Then I cut to the chase. “How old are you, Gina?”
“How old? I’m 18…well I will be 18 tomorrow.”
I grinned, flashing my perfectly chiseled teeth. “Happy birthday. You look older than 18. More mature. And I mean that in a positive sense.”
She looked down at her feet again so that her hair hid her face. I glanced at her sleek legs then looked back at my notes. She seemed taken off guard by my question about her age, so I quickly returned to the task at hand. “Do you have any ideas, Gina, why you’ve felt sad for so long?”
She shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure.”
“Let me tell you something, Gina,” I said. “Usually, deep down, we know what is wrong, we just need somebody to help us pry it out a bit, to unclog our insides. That’s what I’m here for. I’m going to be your soul plumber.” Gina looked up at me and smiled meekly. She had a crooked little smile with perfectly imperfect teeth. “So here’s what we’ll do. We’ll start with your present and work our way back. The last time I spoke to you, you were applying for some jobs waiting tables. Did anything come up?”
“No. I stopped looking. I decided I don’t want to be here. I just want to get out of this town.”
“You don’t like being in the middle of middle America?”
She shook her head. “This town’s not for me. I don’t want to work here and marry here and die here. But sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever really escape. I look at my mother and…well, I don’t know. Somehow these small towns seem to trap you. But I would love to go far, far away, and leave this stupid little town.”
She caught her breath and looked at me, surprised at her own mini-outburst. Of course, I couldn’t blame her. Dunston, Iowa was no place for a beautiful girl like her.
“You’ve talked about painful memories,” I said quietly. “We haven’t talked about your parents yet. Do you get along with them?”
She jumped a little and shook her head. I knew I had hit the proverbial nail on the head. And it wasn’t much of a reach. Parents screw up a lot of lives. She bit her lip and shifted in her chair, uncomfortably.
“I just live with my mom. My father doesn’t live with us anymore. He left a few years ago.”
“Why did he leave? Did your parents get a divorce?”
That crooked smile crept back up on Gina’s lips. “No…no not exactly,” she said her voice beginning to shake noticeably.
I could sense that I was close to cracking something, so I kept pushing, kept trying to reach the source. A shrink’s orgasm.
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