If my words did glow like the gold of sunshine
and my tunes were played on a harp unstrung
would you hear my voice come through the music
would you hold it near as if it were your own?
Grateful Death: "Ripples"
Chet
I am in a room which I call the office although it's a bedroom, but with desks and chairs and a sofa for those of my clients who would like to lie down. The room also has a view to the sea, which is a view that has always had a calming effect on me. The walls are painted ruby red with thin golden vertical stripes. I painted it in this color on impulse and wasn't at all sure if this was the right color. I like it, but I don't know if my clients approve to it. I have asked them and they politely said that it was all right...
I was sitting in my swivel chair with my feet up on the desk, dozing off now and then. Late night yesterday and red wine to go with it...
"Too much, old man" I said to myself.
I was waiting for an early morning client while contemplating the last session with him; one of many and with no progress whatsoever.
I had given him many hints to try something else, but he wasn't very bright and couldn't take it in.
The door bell rang and I went to open the door. Jock was standing outside viewing the sea; his face purple due to his constant drinking.
"Oh, Doc", he said, "I had too many Heinekens yesterday and I am not quite sure if I can think straight today." I was hoping that this statement would lead to a second and more favorable one, but he looked at me and smiled; "still there are things I have to talk with you about , Doc." He insisted upon calling me Doc and I had given up trying to correct him.
"Right, Chet; come on in." "You look great and stylish as always, Chet". "Thank you Doc, it's mostly for the ladies, you know. There has to be some style to it, especially in my age."
He finally came up the two steps to my entrance door and went inside. Inside I could smell his perfume or maybe it was his after shave.
I went ahead and opened the door to my "office".
He climbed in and sat down in his usual chair; the deep ruby red one that had inspired me to paint the walls in the same color.
"So, Chet, you had something to tell me?" "Ah, I love this chair Doc!" was his answer.
"Something else to tell me?"
"Yes, sorry Doc, I always get distracted when I am here, but I feel it's doing me good, you know."
"In what way?"
"At first I am a wee bit nervous, you see, but then, after landing in this chair I just feel so relaxed."
"Ok, Chet, but what was it you had to tell me?" Finally he seems to get to the point, which hasn't got too much of a point
"You see, Doc, I had this telephone call last night from..."
"Lilly?" I said. "Yes, you know, Doc, I am so angry with this woman; she stole my money, you know..."
"Chet, how many times have you told me this story and when are you going to do something about it?"
He turned, if possible, even more purple now; his nose was shining like a beacon; "You know. Doc, I feel good when I come here to have these chats, but when you start cutting me off like this I actually get a little angry!" He had a stiff smile on his face all the time he was saying this.
"So you see these sessions as chats? That's amazing, Chet; as I see them as sessions of treatment where two people come together to help each other out; amazing".
"But surely, you know why I do it, don't you? Or have you forgotten?" He stared at me with the same smile on his face. "Doc, when I feel bad as I do now, our chats will not benefit me at all. I pay you to make me feel better, don't I?"
"Why do you have to bring this up every time you're here, Jock?"
"And how many times have we gone through this same routine?" "You haven't done a damn shit about your own situation. Not a single step towards finding the obvious solutions I have recommended for you to solve your frustration with women... What are you going to do about that?.."
"But, but, you are the doctor!"
"Relax Chet, how many times have we had this subject up for discussion?"
"Of course we have had it up, as you say, that's why I am here, right?!" He had risen out of the chair and came walking towards me. Angry now; he came up to my face with his fists clenched.
"Chet, anything stupid from you and I will report you to the police, we have talked about this too, many times, your anger takes over and you cannot control yourself."
He stops, turns as if to go back to his chair, but then turns back to stare at me again. "I'd like to see your diploma, Doc. Sometimes I wonder if you have any education at all!"
"Sometimes my clients aren't yet ready to face themselves; you are one of these clients. My diploma is hanging on the wall; you have seen it before." "Yes, but it's nothing worth, you know, Doc; if your sessions doesn't help me, I might as well find someone else who are really willing to help me out of this..."
" I have told you before; if you are dissatisfied with my treatment you are free to go wherever you want. Actually, I advice you to do it as you seem to turn into a state of anger every time I criticize your lack of faith in yourself and just walk away to the nearest bar in stead, for your precious Heineken."
He spun around and in one second he came up to me and hit me under the nose and then punched my chin; real hard.
I just sat there, bleeding from my nose and looked at him. He was still angry, but a little bewildered now. He was slow, but he seemed to realize what he had done...
I told him to leave and he turned on his heel and marched out of my office. I could hear the door slam when he left the house...
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