Many
of the shrinks' questions had a déjà
vu
feel to them: Do you know why you're here, Jack? Do you like being
here, Jack? If you could be anywhere else, Jack, where might that be?
He
looked at their faces only to establish he wasn't afraid to look, to
make eye contact long enough to certify his “self-confidence” but
not enough to convey challenge. He did this at the start and end of
each session. During the sessions he kept his gaze steady, focusing
on the hand that held the pen that wrote on the yellow pad, and every
now and then darting up to the face for a quick reminder he was
“paying attention.”
There
were little fights.
“Please
do not address me as 'Doc'.”
“Why?
“I'm
your psychiatrist. There should be a formal distance.”
“What's
wrong with 'Doc'?”
“It's
too familiar.”
“You
call me 'Jack'.”
“What
would you prefer I call you?”
“Jack's
fine. You want me to be comfortable, right?” Asshole smiles coldly,
nods. (All the shrinks are assholes.)
“You
can be comfortable without being familiar.”
“Why?”
“It's
the preferred way.”
“Preferred
by whom?”
“Professional
standards.” Asshole clears throat, writes something on yellow pad.
“You
can't be flexible?”
“Of
course, but within professional boundaries.”
“Am
I making you nervous?”
“Of
course not, but I can't help you if you won't cooperate.”
“Who
said I need help?”
“Everyone
needs help.”
“Do
you?”
“That's
all for today.” Asshole leaves.
Exchanges
like this came intermittently, initially as each shrink strove to
test the dynamic, “establish a relationship.” Later incursions
were intended to surprise, discomfit. Always obvious, occasionally
evoking overt laughter.
This
was all pre-Aggie. She was there, he knew now, but not on his radar.
Once she was, the session evolved. After his radar had found her, he
felt more potent. Deleted the snark from the “Doc.” (Embarrassed
to seem so predictable.) The vigilance remained, of course, but
leavened with insouciance.
But...but
whenever Aggie was not immediately present, so he could witness her,
he forgot what she looked like.
