Friday, May 22, 2015

A Novel Never to Be Published (Part 3): "Actions Speak Louder Than Words."

Continued from: "A Novel Never to Be Published (Part 2) : Dialogue Tells A Story: "Put a girl in a corner, suffer the girl gone mad."

*** This is pure fiction. A hypothetical couple's therapy session written nearly a decade ago to create a sense of closure where closure could not be found in any other way. *** 

Reading this back, (as the author and with much more years, and life experience) I see a girl so scared, angry, defensive and confused. It's funny,  I see myself and cringe, yet, at the very same instant I want to nurture her. So much projection and transferring here. It's fascinating. Even more fascinating to grow and not recognize any of the characters. 

Life goes on. 
Love remains.
Honesty and recognition of one's self gives permission to "have been" and "to let go." 
I'm grateful I wrote it and in doing so, I gave myself the above. (Not knowing it at the time.)  

Nick: Don’t go.

Dr. Hank: Nick, Do you have something to say?

Both Nick and Safina look to Dr. Hank like children at a teacher. Hope and needing him to guide them; to give them menial directions like “Stand here.” or “Hold hands.”  Something to move the moment away from the pulsating, audible screaming tension that is suffocating the room and both people pretending not to feel all that they are.

Safina: What? WHAT!? 

She yells, now crying completely and totally shocked by her own display of emotions she'd sworn to herself wouldn't surface. 

Safina:  Is this the part where you say: “I never loved you?” Only now you can’t do that, because I have bleed all over the carpet and to throw a paper towel down seems a little lacking?!

Nick shifts his weight. His head tilted slightly, chin down trying to fight the deep need to look away he maintains loose eye contact from under bright redding eyebrows and flushed face. 

Safina: But you saying something…. YOU SAYING something now?  Something to serve your greater purpose. That would seem inappropriate. 

Her satire is ferocious and biting. 

Safina:  Are you backing out now? Now? Don't be so predictable. Try, TRY to be the man you act like...Be accountable for your words your lies, and inactions. Once, just once! Try. 

Nick is furious, either at himself or her, she can't make it out and turns to leave. Just as she does, he opens his mouth to speak again. 

Nick: (to Dr. Hank) I can’t, it’s not right. Its just not the time, it’s not right.

His voice is a low almost whisper, no inflection, no emotion. Stating the circumstances in monotone.

Dr. Hank: Nick. You really want to abandon this?

Safina: Nice word!? Ten points!

She throws her hands in the air, over dramatizing the space between her fingers.  

Dr. Hank: All this work? You have come this far, I can guarantee we wont be in this situation again.

Safina: Me too! 

She screeches with the high-pitched perkiness of a cheerleader.

Nick: Safina. Listen, I want to hug you right now.

He looks down at her feet, unable to deal with her puffy eyes and the redness now elevating the skin between her nose and the top of her lip.

I, I… can’t do this. (He giggles nervously) It’s just not right. I know I keep saying the word (his head shaking side to side, one hand open-palm in the air) I can’t. It’s not right.

Turning her body to Dr. Hank like a cannon in his direction, slow and deliberate.

Safina:You, with all of these stamped names and certifications on the wall, you, with your fuzzy beard and eclectic, pensive observational merit, thought THIS was a good idea? That this would some how be beneficial for your client?

She turns to Nick.

Safina: Demand your money back. 

She starts to cry again, having not yet recovered from the emptiness and heaviness of Nick’s earlier retreat.

Safina: He called me, and his voice, his voice is so methodically capable of sending me.

Her voice cracks and she tries to breathe.

Safina:  He asked if I would do this, be a part of this, say the stuff needed to be said. Walk away from it all. I acted like I could do this, because I do love him. I do want him to be happy I do believe he should have all the things he dreams of. 

She stumbles through the words like walking through aftermath of a car wreck or hurricane.

Safina: I don’t, I don’t know what this was supposed to be, but I did it (more crying, less breathing) I did it for him. I tried to be the “bigger” person. And you can’t have thought this is how it would go? I am gob smacked. I am can't be conscious,  I'm sleeping, no? Please…

She giggles and snorts through the tears, motioning to the chair she first sat in with hopeful and apprehensive expectations. Pieces of her hair falling into her face, her left hip cocked, and her frail arm waving through air erratically.

Safina:  Tell her- that girl, when she wakes up… That this was a miserable, futile idea. 

She leaves. The door doesn’t close behind her.

Dr. Hank looks at Nick, who at this point has moved full coil over his knees, holding his forehead in hand. The tiny cilia-like hairs on his neck are standing at full attention, and his face is a deep red.

Nick: Well? That went well. 

He says half looking up at Dr. Hank, half looking away.

Dr. Hank: She is everything you said she would be, and I think we both know your intentions were pure.

Nick nods. Accepting this.

Dr. Hank: The outcome wasn’t something we could plan… but Nick, you see now, what you have always suspected….. You see that right? The likeness, the categorical issues you share. You have to find confidence in the decisions you have made. THIS, this very instance should give you confidence that you chose the best and most functional path for yourself. Do you see that? There is no fault in non-action. We have talked about this. It's your journey, at your pace.

Nick: I do. I guess I do.

His answer as non-resolute as his look. As is par for the course, he left nothing answered and everything "solved. " It is, ultimately, about survival, and survival trumps emotions in his world. 

So it goes.

The unsaid is unsaid, and the rest will fold away and decompose, flower petals on the ground, burnt by the sun, water-logged by the rain and breaking into organic matter to be absorbed again and leaving no trace of existence. 

It’s over now.
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