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Summary
Ilya was not sick. His head was fine, maybe just a little uncontrollable sometimes. So, when Galina called him a half-hour after his appointment, recommending he contact a psychiatrist, he was perplexed. He only wanted to talk, have someone disconnected from him to understand him and his language. He would not let Shane bear his dead weight, so he would reach out to the psychiatrist's office. If not for Ilya, for his husband.
Ilya stands in their kitchen, while Shane shifts nervously on his feet. Ilya knows he would never say it out loud, but Shane’s trepidation is palpable, like the pill in his palm is real.
“What did she say to do?”
Ilya snorts. “Is just medicine, Shane. I think I can figure it out.”Or, Ilya's antidepressants cause trouble in, and outside, of the bedroom.