Tuesday, June 26, 2012
An Excerpt: Parts of Noah (no explanation)
I had a therapist once, but he killed himself. I’ve exhausted myself coming up with theories for what led to his end, how he decided to use a noose, what song he might’ve listened to during his final moments. I’ve come up with a hundred thoughts that could have been his last. I had only met him for three sessions before he offed himself, and I never once noticed a fading in his eyes or a weakness in his heart. I went in for the fourth session, his secretary in her sing-song sunshiney voice told me that his maid found him swinging from the stair-rail, all of his client’s files burned in the fireplace. It bothered me only for a moment that this man had never learned one true fact about me, but only for a moment. Those soul-less men in charge re-assigned me to another therapist, a smug clown lady that was probably a demon, and I spent five sessions in a row just entirely silent, staring at her throat. She gave up on me as everyone does. Why was I there? There’s no point in lying now, so I might as well tell you that I threatened to kill my mom. Your gut will tell you how to feel about that, I’m sure. Anyone would be pushed to my edge if they knew how she had laughed and laughed and laughed.