The Schopenhauer Cure(104)
“Why not?”
“Come on, Rebecca, it’s obvious. Why are you putting me on the spot? If I keep talking like this, I can kiss my relationship with Pam good-bye.”
“You sure?” persisted Rebecca.
“What do you think? I figure her bringing it up at all in the group says it’s a done deal, that she’s made up her mind. It’s getting warm here—hot seat’s getting hot.”
Julius repeated his question to Pam about the timing of her affair with Tony, to which Pam was uncharacteristically tentative. “I can’t get perspective on it. I’m too close. I do know that there wasn’t any forethought, no planning—it was an impulsive act. We were having coffee after a meeting, just the two of us, because all you guys went off in your own direction. He invited me to get some dinner—he’s done that often, but this time I suggested he come to my place and have some homemade soup. He did, and things got out of hand. Why that day and not earlier? I can’t say. We’ve hung out together in the past: I’ve talked to Tony about literature, given him books to read, encouraged him to go back to school, and he’s taught me about woodwork and helped me build a TV stand, a small table. You’ve all known that. Why it got sexual now? I don’t know.”
“Are you okay about trying to find out? I know it’s not easy to talk about something so intimate in the presence of a lover,” said Julius.
“I’ve come here resolved to work today.”
“Good, here’s the question: think back to the group—what were the important things going on when this began?”
“Since I returned from India, two things have loomed large. Your health is number one. I once read a crackpot article stating that people pair in groups in the unconscious hope their offspring will provide a new leader, but that’s far out. Julius, I don’t know about how your illness might have prompted me to get more involved with Tony. Maybe the fear of the group ending caused me to seek a more personal permanent bond; maybe I irrationally thought this might keep the group continuing after the year. I’m guessing.”
“Groups,” said Julius, “are like people: they don’t want to die. Perhaps your relationship with Tony was a convoluted way to keep it alive. All therapy groups try to continue, to have regular reunions—but they rarely do so. Like I’ve said many times here, the group is not life; it’s a dress rehearsal for life. We’ve all got to find a way to transfer what we learn here to our life in the real world. End of lecture.
“But, Pam,” Julius continued, “you mentioned two things loom large: one was my health and the other was…”
“It’s Philip. I’ve been preoccupied with him. I hate that he’s here. You’ve said that his presence may ultimately be a boon to me, and I trust you, but so far he’s been nothing but a blight, with maybe one exception; I’m so caught up in my hatred for him that my preoccupation with Earl and John has vanished. And I don’t think it’s coming back.”
“So,” Julius persisted, “so Philip looms large. Is it possible that Philip’s presence plays some role in the timing of your affair with Tony?”
“Anything’s possible.”
“Any hunches?”
Pam shook her head. “I don’t see it. I’d vote for sheer horniness. I haven’t been with a man for months. That’s rare for me. I think it’s no more complicated than that.”
“Reactions?” Julius scanned the room.
Stuart jumped in, his keen, orderly mind clicking. “There’s more than conflict between Pam and Philip—there’s a lot of competition. Maybe I’m stretching it, but here’s my theory: Pam always had a key place, a central position, in the group—the professor, the erudite one, the one who took Tony in hand to educate him. So, what happens? She goes away for a few weeks and returns to find Philip squatting in her place. I think this was disorienting.” Stuart turned to Pam. “Whatever other grievances you had about him from fifteen years ago got compounded.”
“And the connection to Tony?” asked Julius.
“Well, that might have been one way of competing. If my recollections are right, it was around then that Pam and Philip both tried to give you comforting gifts. Philip passed out that story about the ship stopping at an island, and I remember Tony got really caught up in the discussion.” He turned to Pam. “Maybe that was threatening to you; maybe you didn’t want to lose your influence over Tony.”
“Thanks, Stuart, mighty enlightening,” shot back Pam. “Your point is that to compete with this zombie I have to fuck all the guys in the group! That’s your view of women’s abilities?”
“That’s going to encourage feedback,” said Gill, “and that zombie crack is out of line. I prefer Philip’s even-mindedness over hysterical name-calling any day! Pam, you are one angry lady. Can you be anything else but mad?”
“Those are strong feelings, Gill. What’s happening?” asked Julius.
“I think I see a lot of my wife in this new angry Pam, and I’m determined not to let any vicious stuff pass—from either of them.”
Then Gill added, “And there’s something else. I think I’m miffed at continuing to be so invisible to Pam.” He turned to her. “I’m being personal and upfront with you; I’ve let you know what I’m feeling about you, I tell you how I see you as the chief justice, but nothing registers—I still don’t matter. You only got eyes for Philip…and Tony. And I think I’m giving you important stuff—and here’s another piece: I think I know why your John bailed out: it wasn’t because he was a coward; it was because of your rage.”