Chapter 17
It took another four weeks, and when Darren seemed to even out—after another, milder version of his kitchen rampage and another retreat to the boxing gym—the doctor cut out the fluoxetine entirely. From there, Jayden couldn’t really see any difference: Darren was quiet, moody, quick to offend, and still suffered from the erectile dysfunction and the violent veering between insomnia and near-narcolepsy. He wasn’t Darren, not really, and Jayden sorely missed him.
As spring bloomed properly, and the bitter cold of winter eased its grip, Dr. Zielinski called them back into his little office to prescribe a new pill—for anxiety. “I suspect,” he said at that appointment, “that judging by Darren’s reactions to SSRIs in general, prescribing him another medication from that group isn’t
