Side Effects Include...

Sides Effects Include...

A frothy little tale of renewal and redemption for the end of winter.

Copyright © 2022 to the author.

**

Jackie Shaffer squirmed on the examining table, uncomfortably aware of the air-conditioned draft on her exposed bottom and wishing she had postponed this appointment. Plucking at the scanty cotton gown, she tried to adjust it to cover her backside, but after five increasingly unsuccessful attempts, she admitted defeat.

"Probably an extra-small," she grumbled to herself. "Half the women in America are larger than a size fourteen, but whoever does the ordering here didn't get the memo. Idiots."

Sighing, she glanced around her for the twentieth time, looking for some sort of diversion while she waited for the doctor. The thin gown meant she could hardly go fetch her cell phone from her car, or even slip out to the waiting room and grab the latest People. True, a month-old copy of the Journal of the American Medical Association sat in the magazine rack, but Jackie had no delusions about her ability to comprehend it. Plus, she could see its theme for the month was obesity. Jackie snorted. She had no interest in that!

When the light knock at the door finally came, she jumped. Wriggling in the inadequate gown, Jackie glumly regarded Dr. Stine and Nurse Napolitano, the sprightly young women responsible for her medical care. Her former doctor had been an avuncular old dear; Dr. Stine's lean competence and rapid-fire remarks made her feel defective.

"Jackie!" the doctor said warmly. "It's good to see you. How have you been?"

"All right," she answered, her tone curt.

Not appearing to notice, Dr. Stine's eyes flicked to the tablet in her hand. "Well, let's get down to business, shall we? Your blood work results aren't bad for a woman of your age, but your triglycerides are still on the high side, as they've been for a few years now, and your body mass index is getting dangerously high. We need to work on both of those. There are drug therapies..."

"No statins," Jackie interrupted.

"...and there is always diet," the doctor continued, imperturbable as usual.

"I'm not going to starve myself," Jackie announced. "Been there, done that. Never again."

Laying the tablet on the counter, the doctor folded her arms across her chest and gave Jackie a long, level look. Nostrils flaring, arms crossed over her chest, Jackie met her assessing gaze and returned it with defiance.

"Are you happy?" the doctor finally asked.

Blinking, Jackie sat back. What kind of medical question was that?

"I fail to see what that has to do with anything," she finally answered, sounding bitchy even to herself.

A tight little smile flashed over Dr. Stine's lean face. "Really? I would think that would matter more than almost anything. If you're happy, you can handle almost anything life throws at you. If you're not -- well, everything's harder. You seem out of sorts today, so I thought I'd ask."

Unconsciously hunching her shoulders, Jackie thought for a moment, ignoring the waiting doctor and nurse with their identical sympathetic expressions. She thought back to breakfast that morning, and the argument she had picked with her husband. She considered the stiff, brief phone calls that her children, Benny and Janie, always ended too soon. A vision of her chattering colleagues falling silent when she walked into the room capped off this line of thought.

Her shoulders sagged. "No," she finally admitted. "I'm not happy. I can't even remember the last time I was."

"Ah," Dr. Stine said. "Then let's start with that."

Jackie stared at her, incredulous. "What, are you gonna give me happy pills?"

The doctor's laugh filled the examining room. "No such things, Jackie, and if there were, I'd be a billionaire. No, there's a little work involved for you, but I think you'll find it worthwhile."

Despite herself, Jackie felt the stirrings of interest. "What do I have to do?"

Cocking her head, Dr. Stine regarded her patient. "There's really just two things -- you have to change your diet, and I'd like you to try a new drug that's just come on the market. Urgenta. It's not a statin -- it targets cravings. I think it would be a good fit for you."

"It targets cravings?"

The doctor and nurse both nodded. "Yes. It pinpoints and reroutes those neural pathways in your brain. It's a complex chemical reaction, but I'd be happy to explain it if you like."

Jackie shook her head. Chemistry had been her worst subject in high school, and she had closed the book on it with relief.

"Nah, that would just go over my head -- so to speak," she said, her sense of humor reasserting itself. The nurse laughed encouragingly.

"I'm mostly worried about safety," Jackie confessed. "I don't like the thought of anything messing around in my brain. It won't hurt me, will it?"

"No," Dr. Stine assured her. "In the trials, a few people reported a mild sense of euphoria as a side effect, that's all." She paused. "It's not instantaneous, mind you. It'll take a few days to build up in your system and really kick in. I'd recommend starting the drug a few days before you start the diet, just to be safe."

Mild euphoria sounded perfect to Jackie, and she tuned out the doctor's instructions as she considered it. She hated hurting all the time, hated acting crabby all the time. Even the mere idea of feeling good, the way she had when she and Pete had married, was enough to bring a tear to her eye.

The doctor and nurse exchanged a private glance and gave a slight nod.

"I'll send the prescription to your pharmacy," Dr. Stine said, "and Nurse Napolitano will go over the specifics of the diet with you. She will also send you regular texts to make sure you're all right as you make the transition. I want to see you again in thirty days to run your blood work again and generally check in."

Unable to speak for the lump in her throat, Jackie nodded.

"You're a good person inside, Jackie," the doctor said, her hand on the doorknob. "It's time you looked and felt that way on the outside too."

**

Three days later, Jackie growled at her reflection in the mirror. Cutting out all sugar had nearly defeated her; not only did she have intense cravings and borderline withdrawal, she had to contend with habits too. Not an introspective person, Jackie had never considered how set in her ways she had become. Cutting the sugary mooring lines of treats and snacks formed over the years had left her feeling anxious and unsettled. For heaven's sake, how did normal people live without dessert?

Her phone's text alert sounded and she looked down. Nurse Napolitano again. Her lip curled.

"Congratulations! Today's the day most people report their cravings cease and their mood improves, so that's something to look forward to! Keep putting one foot in front of the other. Let me know how it goes."

Jackie couldn't decide whether to throw the phone through the window or simply slit her wrists. In the end, though, she trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen where Pete already sat at the table, drinking coffee and perusing the news on his phone, just as he always did.

He did not look up at her. "Morning," he said, his tone clipped under his graying mustache.

"Hey," she answered with equal verve, placing a new k-cup in the coffeemaker and hitting the start button. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah. You?"

"OK."

Glaring at the coffee machine, she willed it to go faster, but its gurgling and hissing proceeded as usual, and she sighed.

"So," Pete said, still eyeing his phone. "Day four. This is where the magic happens, right?"

While Jackie's weight had seesawed throughout her adult life, Pete Shaffer could still squeeze into his dress whites. Jackie shot him a resentful look. He didn't understand her struggle; no matter what he ate, his weight never varied by more than five pounds.

"That's what they tell me." The machine stopped spurting coffee into her mug, and she grabbed it gratefully, almost dancing in her eagerness for that first life-giving sip.

"Something to look forward to," he remarked, unconsciously echoing Nurse Napolitano. "I hope this works for you."

"It better," she said grimly. "It's my last hope."

He looked up, surprised. "I didn't know you felt that way."

Taking a second gulp of coffee, she met his gaze. "You think I like being a prize bitch? I hate it. But I feel so bad all the time, I just can't help myself, and I take it out on everyone around me. You worst of all." Placing her mug on the counter, she rubbed a coffee cup-warmed hand over her face. "I hate it. I hate who I am. And I hate the thought of being this way forever. So yeah -- this is my last hope."

Jackie hadn't said anything that honest to Pete in years, and he sat back, watching his wife. Not a bad-looking woman -- she still had that striking bone structure that had attracted him in the first place, with glorious dark eyes, almost almond shaped, that gave her a piquant quality. But time and temperament had carved deep lines of anger and disappointment into her face, and he had stopped really seeing her years ago, needing to protect himself and the kids from her anger.

She looked a little different today, he thought -- softer, perhaps. Even a tiny bit vulnerable.

"You can do it, Jacks," he finally said. "There's nobody that can touch you when you put your mind to a thing, and that's a fact."

Normally, Jackie would have derided his remark as a cliché, but today, halfway through her coffee, she found herself wanting to believe she could change; wanting to believe him, and wanting him to believe in her.

She gave a small smile over the rim of her coffee mug. "What a nice thing to say. Thank you."

Pete wanted to ask her who she was and what she done with his wife. Instead, he gave her a pleasant "you're welcome" and fled from the room before she returned to her senses.

**

The change caught her unawares, during the afternoon-long mandatory budget meeting she led every quarter. One second she was suffering through it like everyone else and thinking about chocolate-iced cake doughnuts; the next, a sense of wellbeing suffused her, one so powerful that she looked around, wondering if anyone else felt it too. From the bored expressions on her colleagues' faces, they were having no such luck.

Sitting up straight, Jackie inhaled deeply, feeling oxygen bathe every cell in her body. She smiled suddenly, causing the presenter to stop in confusion.

"You have something to add, Jackie?" he asked, his brown eyes wary.

"Oh, no," she answered, grinning at him. "Just thought of something, that's all. You're doing great, Marcus. Carry on."

Sitting back in her seat, she gave him such a pleasant look that he stumbled again, unsettled by this substitute Jackie.

"All this is in the email anyway," he finished. "I won't take any more of your time."

"Thanks, Marcus, and good job, as always," she said smoothly. "Now, I see we have an hour left, and this quarter's findings could just go in an email like Marcus just said. So how about we wrap this up early and all go outside for a sunshine break? It's practically springtime out there, and I sure could use some sun!"

As one, the group gawped at her. They could count on Jackie Shaffer to purse her lips with annoyance and make sarcastic remarks when someone screwed up, for instance, but ending meetings early and suggesting mental health activities weren't on her list of habitual activities.

"In fact," she continued, "how about we head over to Gracie and Polly's? My treat."

No one moved until the new intern, a college student from out of state, spoke up.

"I heard Gracie and Polly's makes wonderful ice cream," Becca said. "I'm in!"

On a normal day, the scraping of chairs on the floor would have irritated her, but she ignored it, instead cheerfully jumping up to get the door for the group.

"Meet in the lobby in five," she told the group. "I'll just get my purse!"

**

Over a satisfying supper of steak and spinach sautéed with garlic -- delicious! -- she regaled Pete with the story, chortling over the surprised looks and grateful thanks she had received at the ice cream parlor.

"You'd think no one had ever treated them well," she remarked. "It was kind of sad."

His mustache twitched, and she couldn't tell if he was amused or exasperated. He pushed his empty plate away from him as his tongue quickly ran over his thin lips. Buying time, she thought, familiar with his thought processes after so many years together.

"Um, not to be a bucket of cold water here, but when have you ever done anything like that for your staff?"

Steeling himself for a verbal barb, Pete instead saw his wife's face soften.

"You know, you're right, honey," she replied, her tone wistful. "I have been kind of a bitch. It's funny how clearly I see it now -- and sad how blind I've been."

Reeling from being called "honey," Pete ventured another observation. "They probably don't know what to make of it all."

Still thoughtful, she focused her gaze on her husband.

"And you? Do you know what to make of it all?"

Snorting, Pete shook his head and rose from his chair, suddenly uncomfortable with all this honesty after so many years of lies and evasions. "Nah. To be honest, I'm just grateful."

"I've been a crap wife for a long time," she admitted. "I'm sorry."

He stood abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair, and grabbed the dirty dishes before turning away. "I'll just put these in the sink."

She regarded his tense back as he turned on the faucet. She felt good today, for the first time in years, and she wanted the same for her husband. Nodding to herself, she made up her mind. She had a lot of work to do.

With a quick wipe of his hands on the dishtowel, Pete made his escape. Stepping out of the room so she couldn't see his glistening eyes, Pete shouted a good night over his shoulder as he headed to the guest room he had slept in for the last decade. Shaken, he closed the door and felt the tears stream down his cheeks. Funny how it was kindness, not cruelty, that brought them on, he reflected. He wiped them away as they welled up, then reached for his phone.

**

The next morning, Jackie awoke with the sun, smiling at the cheerful chatter of the birds outside her window. A walk, she thought. A little exercise would do her a world of good. Shrugging into a jacket and sweatpants against the cold morning, she grabbed her phone and trotted outside.

For once, her knees didn't hurt, she noted as she strode down the sidewalk, and the sense of wellbeing from yesterday seemed to have increased, if anything. An old show tune flitted through her brain and she sang it softly. Her neighbors getting their morning exercise greeted her guardedly, and she surprised herself, and them, by remembering all of their names.

Reaching her hands to heaven, she paused to feel the stretch. It felt so good to move her body, to be active! Movement was a human's birthright, a necessity. Why had she sulked inside for so many years when she could have been communing with nature and neighbors instead? So many wasted years. She shook her head sadly, but a wagging, panting dog ran up to her, diverting her from these somber reflections.

Dogs had the right idea, Jackie thought, stroking the furry golden head. Live in the moment, experience joy as you find it, and when someone won't love you, pet you, and give you treats, find someone who will.

Megan King ran up, full of apologies for her unleashed retriever.

"I was trying to put the leash on him when Emma opened the door and Buddy here just took off," she said, blue eyes wide with stress as she grabbed the dog's collar. "I am so sorry. I know you don't like dogs."

Recognizing the opportunity to build a bridge, Jackie smiled. "It's not that I don't like dogs. I just haven't spent much time around them since I was a kid."

"Oh! I could have sworn..." Megan's voice trailed off as her face reddened, thinking of the neighborhood gossip about Jackie-the-Jackhole.

Jackie's smile deepened. "That's OK. I haven't been easy to get to know. But I'm turning over a new leaf. Hopefully, we can get to know each other a little better."

Administering a final caress to Buddy as she said goodbye to Megan, she continued on her walk, her thoughts turning to Pete, poor dear man. He should have found someone else to love him long ago, but he had stuck it out with her. Well, starting today, she planned to love him as he deserved to be loved.

Turning, she started back to the house. She'd have to go carefully with everyone, she realized with a pang of insight. Outside of fiction, people's characters didn't just U-turn. People would suspect her of having some devious ulterior motive. Hmm. She'd have to ponder this.

At home, the kitchen remained dark, and she dug out Pete's favorite morning coffee variety and started the machine, content to wait for her own cup today. Once it finished brewing, she added the sugar she knew he liked, and walked it upstairs to his room.

Still lying in bed, Pete stirred as his wife opened the door, then sat up, startled.

"Your coffee, sir," she said, placing the cup on his nightstand with a flourish. "I woke up early and thought you might like to have coffee in bed."

Smoothing down his wild hair, Pete stared at her.

"Jacks? What did that doctor really say to you?"

Brow furrowed, she sat beside him. "What are you talking about?"

Lower lip trembling, he looked away. "You're scaring me. Do you have cancer or something? Are you dying?"

Restraining an urge to laugh, she instead shook her head. "No. I'm living, for the first time in years."

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"It's weird," he finally said. "I don't know what to make of it."

"Do you want to me to go back to my old ways?" she asked, not sure what he would say to that.

"I don't know. You being in such a good mood is like a dream come true, but I keep thinking I'll wake up. You've hurt me before, a lot of times and in a lot of ways. I've got to protect myself."

Nodding, she stood up, anxiety quivering under her ribs. "I get that. I'd feel the same way."

Walking to the door, she turned to look at him once more.

"I love you, you know. Always have. And I'm so sorry I've hurt you and the kids. I can't take back the things I've said and done, but maybe I could do better from now on."

He gave her an assessing sort of look and she sighed and left the room, closing the door behind her.

**

The next several weeks passed in a happy haze. Jackie couldn't believe how well she felt, and how cheerful. Every aspect of her life, even the frustrating bits, seemed easier to cope with. She said a secret prayer for whoever had developed Urgenta -- it had changed her life!

After a couple of weeks, her colleagues had accepted the new Jackie, the long-timers with a certain reserve, the newer ones with enthusiasm. She thought of a couple of challenging projects to assign Becca, the college intern, and was gratified to see how the young woman took her concepts and made them better.

"You're doing great things, and I'm having a ball watching you learn and grow," she told Becca one day. "I hope you'll consider applying with us once you graduate."

The girl's face shone. "Absolutely! I love it here." She leaned forward and her voice took on a confidential tone. "You know, everyone's talking about the new Jackie. They're wondering what happened in your life."

Jackie-the-Jackhole would have taken offense at the statement, but today, she merely chuckled.

"Nothing earth-shattering -- just a kick in the pants I really needed." She eyed Becca and grinned. "You're looking at living proof that people can actually change if they want to, even after fifty."