The Schopenhauer Cure(62)

Philip opened his eyes and faced Julius. A rare locking of gazes. Was there gratitude in that gaze?

“It’s been known for a long time,” Philip said, “that the cells of the body age, die, and are replaced at regular intervals. Until a few years ago it was thought that it was only the brain cells that persisted all of one’s life—and, of course, in women, the ova. But research has now demonstrated that neural cells, too, die, and new neurons are continuously being generated, including the cells forming the architecture of my cerebral cortex, my mind. I think it can fairly be said that not one cell in me now existed in the man bearing my name fifteen years ago.”

“So, Judge, it wasn’t me,” Tony snarled. “Honest. Ah ain’t guilty; somebody else, some other brain cells, did the job before ah even got there.”

“Hey, that’s not fair, Tony,” said Rebecca. “All of us want to support Pam, but there’s got to be a better way than ‘let’s get Philip.’ What do you want him to do?”

“Shit, for starters how about a simple ‘I’m sorry.’” Tony turned to Philip. “How hard would that be? Would it break your cheeks to say that?”

“I got something to say to both of you,” said Stuart. “You first, Philip. I keep current on the latest in brain research, and I want to say your facts about cell regeneration are off. There is some recent research showing that bone marrow stem cells transplanted in another individual can end up as neurons in some select areas of the brain, for example, the hippocampus and the Purkinje cells of the cerebellum, but there is no evidence of new neurons forming in the cerebral cortex.”

“I stand corrected,” said Philip. “I’d appreciate some literature references, please. Could you e-mail them?” Philip drew a card out of his wallet and handed it to Stuart, who pocketed the card without examining it.

“And, Tony,” Stuart continued, “you know I’m not against you. I enjoy your no-bullshit directness and irreverence, but I agree with Rebecca: I think you’re being too rough—and a little unreal. When I first joined the group you were doing weekend jail equivalent time on the highway cleanup patrols for a sexual assault charge.”

“No, it was battery. The sexual assault charge was bullshit, and Lizzy dropped it. And the battery charge was phony, too. But your point?”

“My point was that I never heard you talk about being sorry, and no one here got on your case. In fact I saw the opposite—I saw lots of support. Hell, more than support; all the women, even you,” Stuart turned to Pam, “got turned on by your…your what? Your lawlessness! I remember Pam and Bonnie dropping off sandwiches for you once when you were doing trash pickup duty on Highway 101. I remember Gill and me talking about not being able to compete with your…your…what was it?”

“Jungle nature,” said Gill.

“Yeah.” Tony smirked. “Jungle creature. Primitive man. That was pretty cool.”

“So, how about giving Philip a break. Jungle man is okay for you but not for him. Let’s hear his side of it. I feel awful about what Pam went through, but let’s slow down, not rush to lynch. Fifteen years ago—that’s a long time.”

“Well,” said Tony, “I’m not into fifteen years ago; I’m into now.” Tony turned to Philip. “Like last week when you…Philip—damn, it’s hard to talk when you won’t make eye contact. Drives me fucking crazy! You claimed that it made no difference to you that Rebecca was interested in you—that she was uh…flirting…I can’t remember that goddamned word.”

“Preening!” said Bonnie.

Rebecca clutched her head in both hands. “I can’t believe this; I cannot believe we’re still talking about this. Isn’t there a statute of limitations to the ghastly grisly crime of taking my hair down? How long is this going to go on?”

“As long as it takes,” responded Tony, who turned back to Philip. “But what about my question, Philip? You put yourself forward as a monk, as someone beyond all this, too pure to be interested in women, even very attractive women…”

“Do you see now,” Philip addressed Julius, not Tony, “why I was reluctant to enter the group?”

“You anticipated this?”

“It is a true and tested equation,” replied Philip, “that the less I have to do with people, the happier I am. When I tried living in life, I was drawn into agitation. To stay out of life, to want nothing and to expect nothing, to keep myself engaged in elevated contemplative pursuits—that is the path, my only path, to peace.”

“Well and good, Philip,” responded Julius, “but, if you’re going to be in a group or lead groups or try to help clients work on their relationships with others, you absolutely cannot avoid entering into relationships with them.”

Julius noted Pam slowly shaking her head in bewilderment. “What’s happening here? This is crazy-making. Philip here? Rebecca flirting with him? Philip leading groups, seeing clients? What’s going on?”

“Fair enough; let’s fill Pam in,” said Julius.

“Stuart, that’s your cue,” said Bonnie.

“I’ll give it a crack,” said Stuart. “Well, in the two months you were away, Pam—”

Julius interrupted. “This time, why don’t you just get us started, Stuart. It’s unfair for us to ask you to do all the work.”