OCD: The Visitor
Created | Updated Aug 26, 2018
Read more about Obsessive Compulsive Disorder in the Edited Guide.
OCD: The Visitor
| Just when he thought it was safe, Jack had a visitor... 'Don't sit there, that's my seat!' His friend jumped back up automatically. 'Keep your hair on, old son,' said Rich, alarmed and amused almost simultaneously. 'Sorry, sorry Richard. I don't get many visitors nowadays. Sit over there,' he said, motioning to the 'guest' couch. 'How long has it been?' Rich asked, remembering the time they'd been together. 'Two years at least.' 'What have you been doing with yourself, all this time?' 'Oh nothing much. You, yourself?' 'America mostly. Company sent me abroad. Me and Sally eventually tied the knot...two kids...blah, blah.' Jack's mind remembered the initial ring of the door. The question that shot through his head was who could it be? Not the postman – too late in the day. Hopefully not that old busy body from next door, calling to see if he was alright. 'Now your parents are dead, it must be lonely all on your own.' (No, it was wonderful to be alone and not bugged by other making demands on your time, he thought to himself but didn't say). Thankfully it was Richard. Old school friend and drinking buddy, from the time after that. 'Jack, after all these years!' A hand reached out to shake his. He didn't grab it, so Richard lunged forward to hug him. 'How are you mate?' Jack had refused to grasp the hand – it might have been sweaty, dirty or germ infested. The hug took him completely by surprise too. The smell of body odour, cheap deodorant and women's perfume, assailed his sensitive nostrils. Revolting! No wonder he'd shut himself off from human contact as much as possible, over the years. As Richard let go of his hold, the smell of bad breath and stale alcohol, wafted into those sensitive nostrils again. Instinctively Jack held his breath, to keep the worst excesses out. 'I'm not too bad. You heard about the accident and my parents being killed?' (He tried to keep his composure, given the situation but it was hard to put up with this attack upon his senses: Now he knew how Gulliver felt in the land of the giants. Disgusting!). 'Yes, Lolly told me about it or was it Ian?' So that was how the exchange had gone at the door and now they were in the living room. 'Do you see much of the old crowd?' his friend asked. 'Excuse me, I'm forgetting my manners. Tea? Coffee?' 'Tea please.' As he sauntered out of the room, he answered Richard's question in retrospect. 'No, not any of them – at least not recently.' Within a few minutes he was back with a tray, on which resided two cups and a plate of biscuits. 'Don't touch that! That's my cup!' Jack blurted out, almost irately. 'Sorry. I'm just so used to my own company nowadays and things being done in a certain way.' (Like Frank Sinatra, it had to be done his way or no way, down each and every highway). They talked for ages and then Jack got up, took the tray back into the kitchen and ritually cleaned every item. He rinsed everything first. Then he washed them in boiling hot, soapy water. Finally he rinsed them again – only this time in cold water, so he wouldn't taste the dish washing liquid, next time he ate or drunk from the vessels. As soon as his friend was gone, he knew he'd have to clean all the door handles and wash his own hands too, to remove the greasy fingermarks and kill the germs that human skin carried. 'Well, I'll be off', And before Jack could move his hand, it had been grasped and shaken, though still wet, in the dangerous manner that all bug infested skin, passed on its disease laden layer of death! (Bath time tonight and serious scrubbing of his palm, once his guest was gone. This was the definite order of the day, his panic filled mind shouted). 'Why can't people leave you alone, to live in peace,' he thought. 'Thank God he hadn't asked – ' 'Oh, can I use your loo before I go?' 'Is the man telepathic?' he thought again. Jack motioned to the door in the entrance hall. Somehow he controlled himself, though his natural instinct was to shout 'No!' in a loud and annoyed (frightened) voice. He listened to the sounds coming from the toilet, tortured by the fear it wasn't just a wee he wanted. The tinkling of liquid hitting the porcelain, greeted his ears. Thank God for that but there was still the chance he'd accidentally peed on the floor. This was never a worry with female guests, should he ever have any, but that was that and Richard had gone. Blissfully alone again. Totally king of his own beautifully scrubbed castle, once more – germs and dirt outside, him inside! |  |
