Peace

THE INNER WILD WITHIN US

“f**k me.”

 The clock strikes Monday and rising from my bed, the hangover settles in a bit as blood rushes to back of my skull. That feeling, it gives me a bit of excitement for a second. It was peculiar. It felt good. Having experienced plenty of hangovers, nine times out of ten I hated every moment of them. A few seconds ago? Nearly meditative. The only thing is, I have not had a drink since Saturday.

 A splash of cold water snaps me out of it a little as I get my day going. Looking into the mirror, a difference is there. An alteration as far as my overall nature had been made. Only, pinpointing this exact alteration was proving to be impossible. The reasonable response is that I feel “different.”

 On Mondays the center liked to have a morning meeting. Doctor Wilson Hillenberg, our chief if you will. An easy-going guy. He studied at Harvard in the late 60s and then left psychology. He then became a beatnik in the early seventies. Then he discovered mindfulness meditation. From there he began traveling across the middle east and southeast Asia, learning from several highly regarded spiritual teachers. He was an interesting. Extremely Zen. Yet, he is able to express himself fully. He is no soft spiritual type. In essence, he is still a cool dude.

“Doctor Anders.” Doctor Hillenberg called out. “Heard about the accident.

Glad you’re in. You okay?”

“Yeah, I feel fine.”

“Good, good. Sometimes, we get ourselves into these crazy situations in the name of a good me. And then something goes wrong and, well, you know.”

“Thank you for your concern sir.”

“Always.”

 Doctor Lagasse filed in along with Doctor Xavier Bell. Doctor Enrique Gonzalez and Doctor Rebecca Yui. Doctor Bell has been here for two years and is the type that wanted to jump his way up the professional ladder but does not have it in him. Doctor Gonzalez is a seasoned veteran. He has been at the practice for six years. But had his own office for four years prior to joining. Doctor Yui is wunderkind. She graduated high school at 15. College at 18. Got her master’s at 19. And of course, earned her P.H in Psychology the day of her 21st birthday. She is my age, but already someone who was to be reckoned with in the world of psychology.

 Every Monday, Doctor Hillenberg had us all sit in a circle, group therapy style. It is something that is new for me. However, it does make for unusual dynamics that will in turn be able to help the center’s growth. At least that is one way of looking at it. Doctor Hillenberg did what he wanted to do. I will leave it at that.

“Good morning everyone.” Doctor Hillenberg started, smiling from ear to eye with his natural brightness. He has been like this every day since I joined the practice. I do not see how he can keep it up. “Trust that everyone, well, everyone else had a safe weekend?”

“Anders, what exactly happened to you?” Doctor Bell asked.

“I’m sure you have some awareness.” I snapped back.

“It was just a little “whoa” you know what I mean? Did a tether break? You didn’t have everything worked out already?”

“Bell, did you sit down on the ground when you were a baby as your mom cooked in the kitchen?”

“Yeah, didn’t you?”

“No. And that is why I do not have a feet fetish.”

 Bell begins to have thought, blankly looking on his feet as he then started to retreat a bit with his body language. These were the games that we played.  Who could call out who on some little inconsistency that they possessed. In a world where Doctor of Medicine and the mind are expected to be the avengers, it is a nice reminder of one’s humanity.

“I believe we’ve all touched upon what happened to Doctor Anders.” Doctor Hillenberg interjected, redirecting the flow once again. “I can safely assume that everyone here is glad that you are okay.”

“Yeah, for sure…” I begin as something within me twitches. Smells of freshly wounded human flesh filled my nostrils, intoxicating me like a hit off the c***k pipe. Everyone is looking at me, as though this pause was meaningful.  Meanwhile, I am trying all my might to not let this out.

 Doctor Lagasse is across from me, slightly to my right. She is the face that I feel the most comfortable with. Whatever separate paths we have, it created aN ease within our present moments when we engage with one another. I focus on her to get rid of the desire. To center myself. To stop this craving that is lower than filth.

“Doctor Anders?” Doctor Hillenberg started. “What is going on?”

“From where I’m sitting, he has an attraction towards Doctor Lagasse.” Doctor

Rebecca stated.

“Can’t blame the young man.” Doctor Gonzalez added. “He is at that age.”

 Staring into her eyes, Doctor Lagasse is silent. This is not at all what anyone thinks it is. I am simply trying not to dig into someone’s open wound. Of course, I am into her. But this is not the way that I had imagined or planned expressing my feelings for her. Sad how things turn out in reality versus your expectations.

“Am I missing something?”

“Excuse me.” I said, getting out of there and heading right out. I take a deep breath in to get rid of the sensations that I was feeling. Kneeling onto the grass, I put myself in child’s position yoga style and breathe deeply in and out. The crazed feeling inside of me was beginning to let go of its grip.

“Doctor Anders.” Doctor Lagasse called out, catching up to me. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, no worries.” I said, making sure that I wasn’t going to throw up.

“Then you’ve been wanting to make sure of that ever since we left the hospital.”

 Coming to my side, Doctor Lagasse helps me up. Ever since that night she has been sweet to me. Perhaps it is guilt, but she has been all over me. On one end it is a bit annoying. Yet, I cannot help but enjoy the attention. Especially from someone who is normally the one that people desire to get to.

“You know as well as I do that physiological shifts can affect your mental health.” Doctor Lagasse pointed out.

“You want to psychoanalyze me Doctor Lagasse?” I used to retort.

“Tell me Richard.” Doctor Lagasse said, catching me off guard by addressing me by my first name. “What’s your hang up with me? Why will you not hear me out?” Is it because I’m a woman? It’s okay, I’m not a hardcore feminist.”

 This feels like a trap to me. Everything that has gone down has influenced her. Emotionally more so than psychologically. And now she needs somewhere to dump it all. Someway to resolve it. Me being of course, be the easiest way to do. It feels so desperate to me.

“This has nothing to do with you Doctor Lagasse.” I replied. “Believe me.”

“Please, Zoey.”

“What is Zoey short for anyway?”

“I don’t know. Zoetrope?”

“I see why you wouldn’t want to go by that.”

“Ha, you’re a lot more fun when you’re like this.”

 It looks like the focus and drive on me devouring human flesh and drink the blood as if it were wine and then me doing my hardest not to act upon those said desires was making me looser when it came to Zoey. I am not showing too much modesty as my intentions with her were currently on the back burner.

“We should hang out again.” Zoey suggested. “This time, lower key.”

“Make me dinner.” I said, no blurted out.

“Oh, well, sure.” Zoey said. “Why not?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

 A police car pulls up and parks right in front of us as a detective comes out. He is wearing brown pants, black dress shoes, a grey button up and a red tie. He is an Indian American and he has a super and I mean super fake tough guy look to him.

“Doctor Richard Anders?” The Detective inquired.

  Inside my office I get the detective a glass of water. His name is Detective Hamza Sabri. He has been with the L.A.P.D for fifteen years now. Has cracked a ton of cases that I have heard about briefly on the 11pm news. With that comes this smug presence one presents when they feel a little bit too good about their egoic selves.

“Doctor Anders, how are you feeling?”

“Surprised to see you here.”

“I would imagine.”

“So, detective Sabri, what is this?”

“I’m sure that you’re aware of the recent spread of the creatures called Demons. Sounds like something straight from Steven Pressfield, but hey, I ain’t f*****g with them. Anyhow, they are a thing and your reaction when you left the hospital Saturday morning according to the medical staff is in fact on the spectrum. “

“Is that so?”

“I’m afraid to say it, but it is indeed so.”

“I don’t know what to say detective. I feel fine.”

“Sure, you feel fine now. But when you are drinking the blood out of some nice young thing’s neck that you just ripped off while they were on a date with their high school boyfriend you’ll plead not guilty due to insanity.”

“Probably would.”

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Detective, what do you want me to do here?”

“I want to know that if it does turn out that you were in fact infected that you would turn yourself in.”

“I wouldn’t have any other choice, would I?”

“No, I suppose you would not.”

“Are we done here? I have patients to see.”

“For sure. Quick recovery. I heard something about these Demons. They can heal at rapid rates.”

“If all of my years of paying tens of thousands of dollars a year for and education taught me one thing, that the power of the body, mind and spirit working together is second to none.”

 Smirking, detective Sabri walks out of my office. I promise you; my life is nowhere near as eventful as the last few days have shown. I am a normal member of the rat race, just like everyone else. Now I have all these things that I must deal with all at once.

BUZZ!

 Here is Robin, right on time. Less timid than our initial session. She is wearing a green wool beanie. Her jeans, no longer ripped. She is decking a polo and her hair is dyed jet black. I begin to faintly here Zoey’s words of advice in my head as Robin comes towards me.

“What’s up doc?” She asked as I began to twitch.

“Please, have a seat.” I said, motioning her to her seat as I turned away.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I said, beginning to shake. “Just.”

 The impulses that rage inside of me are ceasing to control themselves. This desire to tear into some human flesh and dig in. Robin, just standing there, young, short, and fit.  She is just wanting my attention. She, way too easy of a target.

 Jumping towards her I pin Robin right onto the ground. As I make my way to her neck and plant my lips squarely on her left side, I feel her soft hand patting the back of my head. The calming effect is enough to end my crazed cravings. Stopping me from going after her. I then begin to rest on her body as she pats me with grace.

“It’s okay.” Robin said, her voice’s vibrations funneling straight into my ear.

 I get up and look directly at her body laying on the ground. You already know how bad this looks. Everyone is in their office, so they did not see a thing. I got away with it. Robin does not seem to mind it at all. Outside of this situation, that indifference that she holds alone created my intrigue as a physician working with her.

“To say the least that was completely and totally out of line.” I began.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Why be?” Robin said, getting herself off the ground. “It was kind of cool how you couldn’t control yourself. Guys tend to hold back for so long.”

“No, it’s not that…”

“I have an idea of what it is.”

 Robin stands there, smiling at like as though she has one up on me. Guess it is obvious to her that I have been infected. Is she insinuating wanting to turn me in? Her intentions are more than a bit hazy right now. Patients tend to like to get the better of their doctors, but she is going at it with a very calculated attitude.

“I had an accident on Saturday night and…”

“You don’t have to fill me in on your adventures. I’m on the clock, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, just making sure.”

“Moving on, how have you been feeling since Friday?”

“Better. I haven’t been as suicidal as usual. So, there’s that.”

“That is serious progress. I mean it.”

“I guess.”

“By how much are your suicidal thoughts down?”

 Robin begins to ponder silently, twisting her body in all kinds of direction. I have really stumbled upon a truly unique patient to observe. In a lot of ways, Robin appears to be healthy. Witty, resilient, resourceful, and brave. On the spiral dynamics scale, she shows signs of green and yellow. The problem? That her processing skills are stuck in red.  

“I’m not really suicidal in the morning.”

“How many times a day are you suicidal?”

“Now? By noon, then lunch, then dinner time, after dinner time and right

before bed.”

“There will be a slow erosion of those tendencies as well. Robin, have you ever done any kind of body work?”

“Body work?”

“Yoga, Pilates, deep stretching.”

“Oh. No, not really. I do run on the treadmill and work the machines.”

“That is a start. However, I would like for you to try some yoga to you know, feel through your emotions.”

“How can Yoga help me with that?”

“Emotions. Simply energy in motion. All that energy is trapped inside the body. And the body always keeps score.”

“Intense.”

“It really is. There is a friend of mine, she runs a small yoga studio…”

“An ex?”

“Anyway, I’ll give her your contact info and you can get started. Don’t worry about the membership.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.”

“Of course.

“So, Doctor Anders, want to hang out sometime?”

 I keep silent just to make sure that I my hearing is not failing me. Did a patient just ask me out? I’ve heard of patients becoming romantically interested in their psychologists before, but this is nowhere near where Robin’s head needs to be right now. I suppose because of recent events, this cannot be helped.

“Do you think that you need to see another psychologist?”

“No! Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m sure you’re aware of how compromising your request would be.”

“What? Two people going to Starbucks and getting some iced coffee?”

“I’m a juice person.”

“We can fix that.”

“There will be no fixing of anything because we’re not going to be hanging out.”

“What if I said I could help you?”

“Help me with what?”

“With your affliction. I could be of assistance.”

“And what would you be able to do?”

“You got to give me a chance to show what I got. Don’t you?”

“Robin, can we get back to your session?”

 Robin sits there, staring at me. Her eyes, as cool as an icicle in an Antarctic cave. The entertainment that she is gleaning from this must have be immense for her to plow through my rejections like that. I have to say though, what if she could help me? Thus far, she has been heads up about it and has remained calm. Though, it is hard to say whether that’s emotional maturity or apathy and emptiness.  

“We can get ice cream sometime.” I folded.

“Sounds great. Text me the time and which one later alright?”

 We finish our session as I walk Robin out once again. The wrongness of my dealing with her begins to fill my blood. While yes, she is directing this situation in a lot of ways, because of my own selfish reasons I a, allowing for it to self-actualize. And for that, I am feeling like scum.

 Robin, just like last time, gets on her board and goes off. And, just like last time, Zoey is there. Only this time, she is not coming down on me with my behavior towards Robin. Instead, she stands right next to me, watching Robin board away.

“She’s something else huh?” Zoey commented.

“Yeah, really.”

“Want to hang out tonight?”

“Is this déjà vu?”

“Thought I’d get it right this time around.”

“I don’t know Zoey, it’s Monday night.”

“So what?”

“I like to be distraction free during the week.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Then what way did you mean it?”

“It’s all about energy. It is limited. For all of us. I need to make sure that my energy is spent the proper way. Now, the way that I see it, I have two options. I could put my energy into s*x, drugs, and alcohol, which are fun as hell. But then they suck all my energy. Or I could put my energy into my work and actually have a positive return.”

“Hmm.”

“You see what I’m saying?”

“Sounds like a copout. But okay. In this case, it isn’t about what is right.

It’s about what feels good.”

“I don’t know what to say. I’ve been shedding my ego.”

“It’s ain’t all gone.”

“Look, want to get a drink at Barney’s or something?”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Okay then, let’s go. I’ll give you directions.”

 Not too far from the office, just down in West Hollywood is Barney’s Beanery. I like to consider Barney’s to be a toned-down Dave and Busters. Has an extended menu of the same type of food, more expensive drinks, way less games, and more of that burp beer smell.

“Karaoke night!” Zoey exclaims as I groan. That was most definitely one activity that I am not in the mood for.

 We got a booth as the waitress came to takeout orders. Her name was Welcy. I think it sounded unique. Anyway, I order a Jack and Coke, make sure to put the lime on the side please. Zoey orders an old fashioned. The character surprises keep on revealing themselves.

“What song are you singing?” Zoey asked me.

“I choose nothing. You?”

“Uptown girl. And why not?”

“You are a why person aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you?”

“My preference is to see to see how things worked.”

“Then don’t you suppose that you go ahead and choose a song?”

“I know how karaoke works.”

“Just do it!”

“I don’t know…”

“Should be your tagline.”

“Look, I just don’t like to…”

“Put yourself out there?”

“Why do you keep finishing my sentences?”

“Richard, the real question is, how do I know what you’re going to say?”

“Clairvoyance?”

“My third eye? Been opened.”

 After smiling, Zoey gets up, grabs me and next thing you know, we are signing up for karaoke. Having no choice, I jump in headfirst and sign up. I decide to go ahead and go be a man from Disney’ Mulan. Something about that song that resonates. 

 Our drinks have arrived as we cheer each other. The night is certainly going a lot smoother than last Saturday. This is…nice. Just hanging out here with Zoey. She is chill and likes to drink. With specs like those, perhaps there is room for her somewhere.

“Zoey Lagasse!” The karaoke booth guy called out. “You’re up!”

 Taking one nice long chug, Zoey slams the remains of her old fashioned, strutting towards the karaoke stage.  Grabbing the mic, flipping her hair out of her face, the game face: engaged. As the song begins, her hips begin to move. Once the lyrics pop onto the screen, she dives into full force. Another part of her activates. She not only has the pipes to carry the tunes, but she has the dance moves to add something interesting to it. During the start of the chorus, she directly looks at me in the eyes, throwing me a wink and a kiss.

Electrifying.

 Once the song ends, everyone rises to their feet giving a standing ovation. Sheesh. There was no way that I was going to be able to follow that. There must have been a bit of premeditation going on here. Perhaps Zoey enjoys watching her men squirm.

 Going up to the stage to grab the mic from Zoey, I cannot help but notice this guy looking over her. Of course, there would be eyes on her, I am not that needy. But this guy has some strong intent bubbling in his eyes. He is about to become that wolf that goes nuts in those old Tex Avery Cartoons.

 As Zoey grabs a seat the guy makes his move. Even though it is my turn, I am unable but to help and observe his actions. He proceeds to hit on Zoey as she turns him down. Yet, he persists. It is possible that he sees her resistance as playing hard to get. Either way, this annoys me.

“Uh bro.” The karaoke started. “You going to sing or what?

“Sure, I’ll sing.”

 I start to sing be a man as this man drives to town macking on Zoey. I observe his poor attempts as she continues to back further and further away from him as I sing my heart out on the stage. As the song comes to a close, he slowly puts his arm around her and I throw away that mic like it is expired milk with a rotten egg mixed in.

“Everything okay?” I asked as soon as I arrived at the table.”

“What’s up brah?” The man, we’ll just call him douchebag, asked.

“We’re on a date here, brah.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, so, leave.”

“Why should I leave?”

“Because I don’t think that she is interested.”

‘Well, how do you know that? You were singing brah.”

‘I could see you two from the stage, this whole time.”

“He’s right.” Zoey said, coming closer towards me. “I’m not interested.”

“Peace.” I said as Zoey and I got our drinks and walked away.”

“Cunt.” The douchebag uttered under his breath.

 When one calls your date an unflattering name, there are a multitude of ways that you can respond. You can do what I would advise my patients to do, take a deep breath and walk away. It is for sure, the more mature approach. Right about now after drinking half of that Jack and Coke and a little “Demon” in me the “the mature” approach does not intrigue.

“What did you just call her?” I commanded to know as I walked back towards

him.”

“Richard, it’s not that big of a deal.” Zoey commented. “There’s another booth

right there.”

“You heard me.” The douchebag said. “A cunt.”

  Looking into the douchebag’s eyes, I can see a world of pain that resides deeply within him. My assumption off our brief interaction is that he is a kind of pick up artist. Plays the numbers game and goes for the low hanging fruit. But his inability to create a strong bond with these women leaves them cold and they end up leaving him. Sounds harsh? Well, that is a lot of guys in a world

where you either feel trapped or loveless.

 Feeling into his distressed being, I just decide to walk away. Then, this urge floods me. Not to eat human flesh. But a crazier version of fight or flight. It is as though the douchebag is being registered as a severe threat and my primitive mind made the move to take over the reins.

 Turning back, I deck the dude right in the jaw. He is knocked into the wall right behind him. The music stops as everyone is now looking over to this corner of the bar. Looking over to see Zoey’s reaction, she stares at me as though I have transformed into the incredible hulk. I inspect my fists, wondering just what the hell is going on.

 Just what the hell has gotten into me?