The Florencia Lozano Homepage - Fan Fiction
AFFLICTION
BY TROG |
CHAPTER
30 |
CHAPTER 30
Todd sat in his car in this strange driveway looking up at the large, comfortable colonial house in front of him--classic white with black shutters--traditional and yet, majestic with two tall, thick columns flanking the entrance. Ten minutes had passed and still he hadn’t summoned up the courage to go and knock at the door of Dr. Hadrian Woolf. Finally, inhaling deeply, he stepped out, closing his car door quietly and leaning back against it as he crossed his arms and looked around at the lake nearby and the beautiful gardens around him, finely tended and just beginning to bloom. He noticed a rose garden in the distance that reminded him of the gardens at Llanfair, the ones that Vicki cared for so devotedly. Gardening and nurturing...planting...watering...weeding...it all seemed connected. Gardeners. Nurturers. Shrinks.
Walking slowly up to the front door, his chest tight, his heart pounding, he lifted the heavy brass knocker and struck it three times. The door opened within a few seconds and a small, thin man in his mid sixties with a shock of unruly white hair, wearing a well-worn gray cardigan and brown, dusty corduroy pants was standing there. His clear, pleasant, blue eyes peered up at Todd through round, steel-framed glasses and he smiled warmly.
“Mr. Todd Manning I presume,” said Dr. Woolf, extending his hand to Todd.
Todd eyed his hand suspiciously, keeping his own hands deeply buried in his pockets, making no attempt to remove them.
“Yeah...that’s me.”
Dr. Woolf pulled his hand away and stepped back, inviting Todd to enter.
As Todd passed him and entered the foyer he was immediately struck by the number of books that filled the house. Stacks of them, dusty and disorderly, piled everywhere, even along the stairs in the foyer. He had expected the home of an eminent psychoanalyst to be more orderly--controlled and clinical--but instead chaos reigned and he wondered if this man was fit to treat anyone. And there was music coming from an inner room, strange music...hillbilly music...wining vocals, thumping washboards and staccato banjos. Todd stopped, listened, then rolled his eyes at Dr. Woolf.
“Please tell me that tolerating that music isn’t part of your therapy method,” said Todd.
Dr. Woolf laughed softly and shook his head.
“Rest assured...it’s not,” he said in a quiet voice, walking down the hallway into a corner room as Todd followed. Hadrian Woolf picked up a remote and quickly turned the music off as Todd looked around, a little more pleased with this room which faced the rose garden on the side of the house. Dr. Woolf’s office was much more orderly than the rest of the place, in fact there was only comfort and serenity here. Good, comfortable, wine-colored leather furniture...well worn but of top quality. The wall behind his desk was composed of four windows looking out on rows of finely pruned rosebushes and a perfect view of the lake at the end of the property. There were a couple of armchairs, a table with an antique lamp, and a sofa by the wall. There was only one small bookcase here, but all the books were neatly organized in fine, leather bindery...classic works in psychology...bound and stored like holy books. The ceiling was high and vaulted and gave the room a reverence...it felt like being in a chapel. It was the office of a spiritual academic...scholarly and sacred...but, also...the office of a devoted gardener who liked to keep a watchful eye on what he‘d cultivated. Gardening and shrinking....
“I spent some time in West Virginia and grew very fond of mountain blue grass music. It’s definitely an acquired taste. Please make yourself at home, Todd...may I call you Todd?”
Todd eyed him suspiciously and nodded, avoiding his eyes, afraid Dr. Woolf might read something in them. He looked around, not sure where to sit.
“I suppose you want me supine, on that couch, like a lab frog you can cut open and poke around in, right?” asked Todd with open hostility.
Dr. Woolf sat back and observed him. Not what he had expected at all...handsome, young, almost boyish in appearance accept for the disfiguring scar on his right cheek, but his anxiety level was high, his defenses tight and thick, his manner angry...and his eyes were full of fear.
“I just want you to be comfortable.”
“Well...in that case I think I’ll remain standing. What do I call you...Dr. Woolf? Hadrian? Wolfman?”
Dr. Woolf smiled.
“By referring to me as Dr. Woolf, you’d be acknowledging and respecting my profession and position, allowing me to take charge as the adult professional and sublimating yourself to my expertise and guidance thereby relinquishing all power to me . By calling me Hadrian you’d be establishing a peer intimacy, getting on the same level with me, sharing power. Calling me Wolfman is reducing me to the level of a monstrous, fictional character, thereby eliminating my legitimacy and credibility and giving you total control.”
“I think I’ll call you Wolfman,” said Todd defiantly, still standing.
“As you wish. Do you mind if I tape our sessions,” he said, removing a small tape recorder from his desk drawer.
“YES, I MIND!” yelled Todd, walking over quickly. “What the hell is this some sort of scam? Are you going to sell this to The National Inquirer or something?”
“Not at all. Everything that is said here is strictly confidential...between you and me. I would never use any of it without your written permission. In my old age I’ve developed arthritis in my hands and it is impossible for me to take notes any more. However, if it makes you uncomfortable...I don’t have to record our sessions...but then, I’ll have to rely completely on my memory and I’d rather not do that.”
Todd looked down at his wrinkled hands and noticed the swollen joints along the thin fingers.
“I guess it’s all right...let’s get this over with already,” said Todd, finally sitting down opposite Dr. Woolf.
Todd watched anxiously as Dr. Woolf reached over and turned on the tape-recorder, listening as its humming reels filled the little room.
“How’s your sex life?”
“What the fuck,” said Todd getting up indignantly. “What the hell kind of question is that? Are you a freaking Freud wannabe or something? Why is it all shrinks want to do is talk about sex?”
“Todd...you made it very clear that you didn’t want to waste any time with me. Now if you prefer we can waste precious time discussing sports...or hobbies...or look at inkblots...but I don’t think that’s what you want. You don’t want euphemisms and platitudes, not after the life you’ve lead...the abuse you’ve experienced and the crimes you’ve committed. I’m respecting and acknowledging your history and your life and your willingness to want to come to terms with it. I read the bio you faxed to me...all 180 pages...and sex seems to factor very prominently in your life...in your problems, that’s all.”
“I’m a rapist...what did you expect, that sex wouldn’t factor into my life?”
“I didn’t ask you about rape, Todd...I asked you about sex! Do you understand the difference?”
“YES! I know the difference,” shouted Todd without looking at him.
“You said you’ve only slept with your present wife twice in two years. Why only twice? Was it satisfying?”
Todd rung his hands with discomfort and walked over to the window. Hating this subject he closed his eyes and forced himself to speak.
“You mean...what...did I get hard? Did I come? Is that what you call satisfying? Then, yeah...I guess it was... satisfying,” said Todd.
“You can get those same results from using your hand, Todd. I mean was it good...did it bring you pleasure...did it make you happy...did it make you feel closer to...Blair, that’s her name, right?”
Todd stared out the window and said nothing for a while...the passing minutes becoming long and uncomfortable. The two sexual encounters with Blair had been awkward and what little pleasure they afforded was over in a matter of seconds for both of them.
“No. It wasn’t satisfying. I had sex with Blair because I needed to...for her...to show her I was committed to her...to our marriage. I wanted us to be a family...and I married her...I could hardly avoid having sex with her now could I?”
“Then why did you marry her three times?”
Todd walked back into the room and sat down on the sofa looking down at the floor.
“I...uh...I didn’t want to be alone. And she’s my kids’ mother...she accepts all the shit I give her. We just take each other’s crap...that’s all. Noone else puts up with me...Blair always does.”
“What’s she like?”
“She’s a cold-hearted bitch! A pathological liar. She doesn’t possess one ounce of compassion in her whole body. She’ll sell you for a buck...and she’s cruel...she’ll take your most painful secrets and whip them across your face...then she’ll laugh at your pain. She’s just like me...”
“But you hate yourself, Todd...why would you want to be with someone who has all the qualities you hate most in yourself!”
Todd shot up.
“Hey...I don’t want to be with her. I’m divorcing her...I told you that.”
“But you keep going back to her...knowing what she is...what she does to you. Why?”
“BECAUSE SHE’S MY FAMILY! SHE’S MY KID’S MOTHER...AREN’T YOU LISTENING TO ME? I’M STUCK WITH HER! WE HAVE CHILDREN...THAT MEANS I HAVE TO STICK AROUND.”
“Family isn’t just having children...any animal can procreate...blood and marriage and offspring...those are not what define a family, Todd. Family are the people you choose to include in your life...you allow yourself to love them and allow them to love you back.”
Todd sat down again.
“Yeah...well, sometimes, you can’t choose your family. Your stuck with them and with everything they do to you because you have nowhere else to go...the people who love you hurt you...then they leave...and you have to tolerate what‘s left.”
“What’s left. Are you talking about you and Blair...or you and your father?”
“THAT’S IT! I’m outta here,” said Todd heading for the door.
Dr. Woolf got up.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Todd stopped at the door and turned sharply, walking over to Dr. Woolf.
“I WAS TALKING ABOUT BLAIR! TEA LEFT ME AND BLAIR WAS THERE...SHE’S WHAT WAS LEFT!” shouted Todd.
“Yes...and your mother left you and your father was what was left...and you were forced to accept his punishments and the pain they caused...because that‘s what was left!”
Todd stared at him wild-eyed, raking his hand through his hair roughly.
“This is bullshit...psycho-babble...CRAP! What are you saying...I like abuse? I took up with Blair because I’m comfortable with torture...like it was with my father? Is that what your telling me? I’m some fucking masochist who likes pain? Ha? YOU THINK I LIKE WHAT MY OLD MAN DID TO ME?”
Dr. Woolf sat down calmly.
“No one likes pain and abuse, Todd. But...sometimes...when we grow up with it as children...we are forced to accept it...to tolerate it because we have nothing else and noone to help us. We shut down and learn to tolerate pain because we have to...we are dependent on those around us for love, for security even if they hurt us....and eventually we condition ourselves to ignore the pain...and the abuse becomes routine...a normal part of our existence. It’s only when we step out into the world, outside the abuse and observe others...when we see and experience love and kindness for ourselves...then we can look back and realize how abnormal and painful the other stuff truly was.”
Todd just stood there quietly.
“Todd...please...sit down. I’m not telling you anything. It is you telling me. I’m just here to try and makes sense of it...to help you make sense of it. I’m not judging you, I have no agenda here. You married a woman three times...a woman you are clearly not in love with...a woman who brings out the worst parts of you...who even causes you great pain at times...and I’m just trying to understand. And I think you’re trying to understand too.”
Finally, Todd sat down.
“I hated my father...but I had to put up with everything he did to me. I was too little...I had nowhere to go....” said Todd, looking away with embarrassment as his eyes misted over and the memories of the day his mother left him came flooding back to him.
“I know. I understand, Todd. But you were a child then...you’re an adult now. You have a choice in being with someone who hurts you and being with someone who loves you and cares for you. Why keep choosing the pain.”
“Cause I felt like I had no choice....cause it was...easy...familiar...comfortable...comfortable pain,” said Todd pensively, as if he were talking to himself.
“Comfortable pain?” asked Dr. Woolf, raising his eyebrow at the phrase.
“Yeah...you know...pain you can take. My old man was a master at inflicting pain...the Marquis De Sade of Chicago. And sometimes the pain was unbearable...like when he burned me with his lighter...or when he broke my ribs or belted me...but other times...it wasn’t so bad. He’d just push me around, humiliate me...lock me in a closet for a while...those were good days. That was comfortable pain.”
“And you equate being with Blair as comfortable pain? A certain level of discomfort that is tolerable?”
“Yeah. I mean she lies to me...and hurts me...but...I can handle it. I‘ve been treated worse.”
“Why would you want to? Handle it, I mean.”
“Hey...I have kids, you know? I can’t just think about what I want. I‘m not walking out on them the way my mother just split on me...I can handle a little discomfort...I can do that for my kids. WHY THE FUCK COULDN‘T SHE!” said Todd, tears rising to his eyes. Suddenly he got up.
“Perhaps...your mother wasn’t as strong as you. Maybe she never learned to tolerate the pain. Do you blame her for leaving you behind in the care of your father?”
“What do you think? What kind of woman would leave a seven-year-old kid in the hands of someone like Peter Manning?’
“You left your seven-year-old daughter...”
Todd rushed toward Dr. Hadrian.
“HEY! Blair isn’t a saint but she’d never hurt Starr like that! Peter Manning was a sick, depraved bastard...who did...horrible things to me. That’s not Blair!”
“You mean Blair is not physically abusive...like your father was.”
“Oh, man...this is bullshit! Blair’s a selfish witch...but she loves her kids. She wouldn’t hurt them like that...she couldn’t. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Wolfman.”
“In what way did your father hurt you?”
“I have to get out of here...enough for today...okay?”
“Fine,” said Dr. Woolf, getting up and walking Todd up to the front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
Todd stepped out quickly.
“I don’t know...” he said heading for his car.
Dr. Woolf stood and watched as the black Jaguar made a quick u-turn, sending gravel flying, and sped away.
“Yes, Todd...you’ll be back.”
to be continued...
2002 Copyright by Trog
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