Tuesday, March 15, 2011
beware the ides of March
I am so sorry that I've been late with this entry. The weirdest thing happened to me this morning. I thought everything was going so well. I was on time for work and found a place to park and was walking up the stairs to my office not even aware of having unlocked the door and unsetting the alarm. Well, I supposed there were others that had gotten there before me. I couldn't remember who my first client was but I checked my book and it was someone new so I was glad I was early.
His name was Mort Thanatoid which I thought an unusual name but hey. He was on time and was in my room before I quite realized it. I thought my door was locked but I guess I'd released the latch without thinking about it.
He was dressed from head to toe in the worst suit I've ever seen. Don Cherry is the epitome of fashion compared to this dude. Perhaps his problems were related to his sartorial malfunctions. The suit was wool, dark with a fuzzy sort of grey line through it and he had on a grey shirt and a string tie. On his feet he wore black keds. I know this could be considered cool and even fetching but him - no. He looked hot and itchy in the suit and I felt myself remembering the clothes of my youth - all too short or too itchy or too something. I gestured to a chair but he took the one I usually sit in. I was going to ask him to grab another but I felt oddly compelled to keep quiet.
I sat across from him and asked him what he desired from the session.
He smiled and said nothing.
Ah, I thought, a social misfit of a certain type. I smiled back at him and said nothing.
This continued for forty minutes. I kept my composure throughout and so did he. Sometimes new clients need to prove something and I was willing for him to let it play out.
I say it was forty minutes but when I looked at the clock I saw that the hands had fallen off and lay in the bottom resting against the glass front. Ah well, I'd bought it as a cheap retro knock-off and I supposed it had served me well enough. I checked my wrist and realized I didn't have my watch on. Darn it! Ah well, at about the forty minute mark (when you've been in this line of work for over twenty years believe me when I tell you - you know your hour) he gestured to the door almost as if I were the client and he the therapist.
I suppose by then I'd had enough.
"Mr. Thanatoid - if you'd like something from this session you will have to speak."
He smiled in that infuriating way once again.
Then he spoke.
He opened his mouth and I saw the stairway down to hell. He whispered and the trees outside my window fell down, my ear drums burst, all the paintings and photos on my walls tumbled down, and I felt myself turn to ice. Although I couldn't hear him, not properly, I knew what it was he said.
He said "Now."
And I needed no further explanation.
So, as I said - I'm late.