life. No time for anything else. No other topic of conversation. Our sex life is defunct.
Nothing. Forget it. A couple of weeks ago she asked me to phone her father—she won`t
talk to him herself—and invite him to come to her therapy session. She wanted me to
attend, too—for вЂprotection,` she said.
«So I phoned him. He agreed immediately. Yesterday he took a bus down from
Portland and appeared at the therapy session this morning carrying his beat–up suitcase
because he was going to head right back to the bus station after we met. The session was
a disaster. Absolute mayhem. Rose just unloaded on him and kept on unloading. Without
limits, without letup, without a word of acknowledgment that her old man had come
several hundred miles for her—for her ninety–minute therapy session. Accusing him of
everything, even of inviting his neighbors, his poker chums, his coworkers at the fire
department—he was a fireman back then—to have sex with her when she was a child.»
«What did the father do?» asked Rebecca, a tall, slender, forty–year–old woman of
exceptional beauty who had been leaning forward, listening intently to Gill.
«He behaved like a mensch. He`s a nice old man, about seventy years old, kindly,
sweet. This is the first time I met him. He was amazing—God, I wish I had a father like
that. Just sat there and took it and told Rose that, if she had all that anger, it was probably
best to let it out. He just kept gently denying all her crazy charges and took a guess—a
good one, I think—that what she is really angry about is his walking out on the family
when she was twelve. He said her anger was fertilized—his word, he`s a farmer—by her
mother, who had been poisoning her mind against him since she was a child. He told her
he had had to leave, that he had been depressed out of his gourd living with her mother
and would be dead now if he had stayed. And let me tell you, I know Rose`s mother, and
he`s got a point. A good one.
«So, at the end of the session he asked for a ride to the bus terminal, and before I
could answer, Rose said she wouldn`t feel safe in the same car with him. вЂGot it,` he said,
and walked away, lugging his suitcase.
«Well, ten minutes later Rose and I were driving down Market Street, and I see
him—a white–haired, stooped old man pulling his suitcase. It was starting to rain, and I
say to myself, вЂThis is the shits.` I lost it and told Rose, вЂHe comes here for you—for
your therapy session—he comes all the way from Portland, it`s raining, and goddamnit
I`m taking him to the bus station.` I pulled over to the curb and offered him a lift. Rose
stares daggers at me. вЂIf he gets in, I get out,` she says. I say, вЂBe my guest.` I point to
Starbucks on the street and tell her to wait there and I`ll come back in a few minutes. She
gets out and stalks off. That was about five hours ago. She never did show up at
Starbucks. I drove over to Golden Gate Park and been walking around since. I`m thinking
of never going home.»
With that, Gill flopped back in his chair, exhausted.
The members—Tony, Rebecca, Bonnie, and Stuart—broke out into a chorus of
approvaclass="underline" «Great, Gill.» «About time, Gill.» «Wow, you really did it.» «Whoa, good
move.» Tony said, «I can`t tell you how glad I am that you tore yourself loose from that
bitch.» «If you need a bed,” said Bonnie, nervously running her hands through her frizzy
brown hair and adjusting her goggle–shaped, yellow–tinted spectacles, «I`ve got a spare
room. Don`t worry, you`re safe,” she added with a giggle, «I`m far too old for you and
my daughter`s home.»
Julius, not happy with the pressure the group was applying (he had seen too many
members drop out of too many therapy groups because they were ashamed of
disappointing the group), made his first intervention, «Strong feedback you`re getting,
Gill. How do you feel about it?»
«Great. It feels great. Only I...I don`t want to disappoint everybody. This is
happening so fast—this all just happened this morning...I`m shaky and I`m fluid...don`t
know what I`m going to do.»
«You mean,” said Julius, «you don`t want to substitute your wife`s imperatives
with the group`s imperatives.»
«Yeah. I guess. Yeah, I see what you mean. Right. But it`s a mixed bag. I really
want, really really need this encouragement...grateful for it...I need guidance—this may
be a turning point in my life. Heard from everyone but you, Julius. And of course from
our new member. Philip, is it?»
Philip nodded.
«Philip, I know you don`t know about my situation, butyou do.» Gill turned to face
Julius. «What about it? What doyou think I should do?»
Julius involuntarily flinched and hoped it had not been visible. Like most
therapists, he hated that question—the «damned if you do, damned if you don`t» question.
He had seen it coming.
«Gill, you`re not going to like my answer. But here it is. I can`t tell you what to do:
that`s your job, your decision, not mine. One reason you`re here in this group is to learn
to trust your own judgment. Another reason is that everything I know about Rose and
your marriage has come to me through you. And you can`t avoid giving me biased
information. What I can do is help you focus on how you contribute to your life
predicament. We can`t understand or change Rose; it`syou —your feelings, your
behavior—that`s what counts here becausethat`s what you can change.»
The group fell silent. Julius was right; Gill did not like that answer. Neither did the
other members.
Rebecca, who had taken out two barrettes and was flouncing her long black hair
before replacing them, broke the silence by turning to Philip. «You`re new here and don`t
know the backstory that the rest of us know. But sometimes from the mouth of newborn
babes....»
Philip sat silent. It was unclear whether he had even heard Rebecca.
«Yeah, you have a take on this, Philip?» said Tony, in what was, for him, an
unusually gentle tone. Tony was a swarthy man with deep acne scars on his cheeks and a
lean, graceful athletic body exhibited to good advantage in his black San Francisco
Giants T–shirt and tight jeans.
«I have an observation and a piece of advice,” said Philip, hands folded, head tilted
back, and eyes fixed on the ceiling. «Nietzsche once wrote that a major difference
between man and the cow was that the cow knew how to exist, how to live without
angst—that is,fear —in the blessed now, unburdened by the past and unaware of the
terrors of the future. But we unfortunate humans are so haunted by the past and future
that we can only saunter briefly in the now. Do you know why we so yearn for the golden
days of childhood? Nietzsche tells us it`s because those childhood days were the carefree
days, daysfree of care, days before we were weighted down by leaden, painful memories,
by the debris of the past. Allow me to make one marginal note: I refer to a Nietzsche
essay, but this thought was not original—in this, as in so much else, he looted the works
of Schopenhauer.»
He paused. A loud silence rang out in the group. Julius squirmed in his chair,
thinking, Oh shit, I must have been out of my fucking mind to bring this guy here. This is
the goddamnedest, most bizarre way I`ve ever seen a patient come into a group.
Bonnie broke the silence. Turning her gaze squarely upon him, she said, «That`s
fascinating, Philip. I know I keep yearning for my childhood, but I never understood it
that way, that childhood feels free and golden because there`s no past to weigh you down.
Thanks, I`m going to remember that.»
«Me too. Interesting stuff,” said Gill. «But you said you had advice for me?»