The Schopenhauer Cure(44)

“To quote the old sage, Saint Julius, a question ain’t a question if you know the answer,” interrupted Tony.

“Why don’t you let Bonnie speak for herself, Tony?” said Rebecca, her eyes icy.

Tony was unfazed. “It’s obvious. Philip enters the group, and you change—you change into a male…ah…what’s the right word?…you’re coming on to him. Do I got it right, Bonnie?”

Bonnie nodded.

Rebecca reached in her purse for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes, carefully protecting the mascara. “That’s really fucking insulting.”

“This is exactly where I don’t want it to go,” pleaded Bonnie. “This is not about you, Rebecca—I keep saying that. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“That doesn’t wash with me—making an en passant nasty accusation about my behavior and then saying it’s not about me doesn’t make it less nasty.”

“En passant?” asked Tony.

“En passant means,” interjected Philip, “in passing—a common term in chess used when the pawn takes two squares in its opening move and passes an opposing pawn.”

“Philip, you’re a show-off—you know that?” said Tony.

“You threw out a question. I answered it,” said Philip, entirely unaffected by Tony’s confrontation. “Unless your question ain’t a question.”

“Ouch, you got me there.” Tony scanned the rest of the group and said, “I must be gettin’ dumber. I feel more out of it. Am I imagining it, or are there more big words getting thrown out here? Maybe having Philip here is getting to others, too—not just Rebecca.”

Julius intervened by using the group therapist’s most common and most effective tactic—he switched the focus from content to process, that is, away from the words being spoken to the nature of the relationship of the interacting parties. “Lots going on here today. Maybe we can step back a minute and try to understand what’s happening. Let me first put out this question to all of you: what do you see going on in the relationship between Bonnie and Rebecca?”

“It’s a tough call,” said Stuart, who was always the first to respond to questions thrown out by Julius. Using his professional/medical voice, he said, “I really cannot tell if Bonnie has one agenda or two.”

“Meaning?” asked Bonnie.

“Meaning, what’s your agenda? Do you wish to talk about issues with men and your competition with women? Or, do you wish to take a swipe at Rebecca?”

“I see it from both points of view,” said Gill. “I can see how this dredges up Bonnie’s old bad memories. And then I can also see why Rebecca is upset—I mean she may have not known she was fixing her hair—and personally I don’t think that’s such a big issue.”

“You’re tactful, Gill, “said Stuart. “As usual you try to placate all parties, especially the ladies. But you know if you get so deep into understanding the female point of view, you’re never going to speak out in your own voice. That’s what Philip said to you last week.”

“I resent these sexist comments, Stuart,” said Rebecca. “Frankly, a doctor should know better. This ‘female point of view’ talk is ridiculous.”

Bonnie held up her hands and made a T. “I’ve got to call ‘time out’—I just cannot go on. This is important stuff, but it’s surreal; I cannot go on with it. How can we go on with business as usual when Julius has just announced last week he is dying? This is my fault: I should never have started this topic today about me and Rebecca—it’s too trivial. Everything’s trivial in comparison.”

Silence. Everyone looked down. Bonnie broke the silence.

“I want to back up. The way I should have started this meeting was to describe a dream, a nightmare, I had after the last group. I think it involves you, Julius.”

“Go,” urged Julius.

“It was night. I was in a dark train station—”

Julius interrupted, “Try using the present tense, Bonnie.”

“I should know that by now. Okay—it’s night. I’m in a dark train station. I’m trying to catch a train that’s just beginning to move. I walk faster to get on. I see the dining car pass by filled with well-dressed people eating and sipping wine. I’m not sure where to board. Now the train starts to move faster, and the last cars get shabbier and shabbier, with their windows boarded up. The final car, the caboose, is just a skeleton car, all falling apart, and I see it pull away from me and I hear the train whistle so loud it wakes me about four A.M. My heart was pounding, I was soaked with sweat, and I never did get back to sleep last night.”

“Do you still see that train?” asked Julius.

“Clear as can be. Moving away down the track. The dream is still scary. Eerie.”

“You know what I think?” said Tony. “I think the train’s the group and that Julius’s illness will make it fall apart.”

“Right on,” said Stuart, “the train’s the group—it takes you somewhere, and it feeds you along the way—you know, the folks in the dining car.”

“Yeah, but why couldn’t you get on? Did you run?” asked Rebecca.

“I didn’t run; it was like I knew I couldn’t board.”