The Schopenhauer Cure(68)

“Hey, I know that book—John Gardner’s Grendel,” interrupted Pam. “It was Grendel, the demon, who sought out the wise man.”

“Endless interconnections here,” said Julius. “Pam first introduced me to that novel when I was seeing her for a few months about the same time. So, Rebecca, if that comment was helpful, you owe thanks to Pam.”

Rebecca, flashed Pam a big thank-you smile. “You were giving me indirect therapy. I pasted a note with that phrase on my mirror: Alternatives exclude. It explained my block in saying yes to Jack even though I believed he was the right man.” Then, to Julius: “I remember your saying that to grow old gracefully I had to accept the limiting of possibilities.”

“Long before Gardner,” Philip interjected, “Heidegger,” he turned to Tony, “an important German philosopher in the first half of last century…”

“An important Nazi, too,” Pam interjected.

Philip ignored Pam’s comment. “Heidegger spoke of confronting the limiting of possibility. In fact he linked it to the fear of death. Death, he suggested, was the impossibility of further possibility.”

“Death as the impossibility of further possibility,” Julius repeated, “a powerful thought. Maybe I’ll paste that on my mirror. Thanks, Philip. There’re so many things to look at here, including your feelings, Pam, but first, one more comment to you, Rebecca. This episode in Las Vegas must have happened while you and I were meeting, and you never mentioned it to me. That tells me how much shame you must have felt.”

Rebecca nodded. “Yep, I decided to deep-six the whole episode.” After pausing and considering whether to say anything else, she added, “There’s more, Julius. I was ashamed, but even more…this feels risky…I felt even more shame when I fantasized about it afterward: it was a fantastic high—not a sexual high, no that’s not right, not just a sexual high, but the excitement of being outside the law, of being primitive. And you know,” Rebecca turned toward Tony, “that’s always been part of my attraction to you, Tony—your jail time, your bar fights, your flaunting of the rules. But just now you went over the top; that stunt of pulling out your money was offensive.”

Before Tony could reply, Stuart jumped in. “You’ve got a lot of guts, Rebecca. I admire you. And you’ve liberated me to reveal something I’ve never talked about—not with Julius or my previous shrink, not with anyone.” He hesitated, looked in the eyes of each member. “Just checking out the safety factor here. This is high-risk stuff. I feel safe with everyone here with the exception of you, Philip, because I don’t know you well yet. I’m sure Julius has talked to you about group confidentiality?”

Silence.

“Philip, your silence jams me up. I’m asking you something,” said Stuart, who turned and faced Philip more directly. “What’s going on? Why don’t you answer?”

Philip looked up. “I didn’t know an answer was required.”

“I said I was sure that Julius told you about confidentiality, and then I raised my voice at the end of the sentence. That connotes a question—right? And also, didn’t the context about trust signify that I needed an answer from you?”

“I understand,” said Philip. “Yes, Julius told me about confidentiality, and, yes, I made a commitment to honor all the group basic ground rules, including confidentiality.”

“Good,” said Stuart. “You know, Philip, I’m beginning to change my mind—I used to think of you as arrogant, but now I’m beginning to think that you’re just not house-broken or people-broken. And that does not require an answer—it’s optional.”

“Hey, Stuart—good!” said Tony, smirking. “You’re showing up, man. I like it.”

Stuart nodded. “I didn’t mean that negatively, Philip, but I’ve got a story to tell and I need to make sure it’s entirely safe here. So,” he took a deep breath, “let’s go. About thirteen or fourteen years ago—it was when I was just finishing my residency and was about to enter practice—I went to a pediatrics convention in Jamaica. The purpose of such conventions is to keep up with the latest in medical research, but you know many physicians go for other reasons: to look for a practice opportunity or an academic job…or just to have a good time and get laid. I struck out on all counts, and then, to make things worse, my plane back to Miami was late and I missed my connection to California. I had to spend the night in the airport hotel and was in a miserable mood.”

There was rapt attention from the group members—this was a new side of Stuart.

“I checked into the hotel around eleven-thirty at night, took the elevator up to the seventh floor—funny how clear the details are—and was walking down a long silent corridor to my room when suddenly a door opened and a distraught, disheveled woman in a nightgown stepped out into the hallway—attractive, great body, about ten or fifteen years older than me. She grabbed my arm—her breath reeked of alcohol—and asked whether I had just seen anyone in the hall.

“‘No one, why?’ I answered. Then she told me a long, rambling story about a delivery man who had just swindled her out of six thousand dollars. I suggested she call the front desk or the police, but she seemed strangely uninterested in taking any action. Then she motioned me to come into her room. We talked, and I tried to calm her about her belief—obviously a delusion—that she had been robbed. One thing led to another, and we soon ended up in bed. I asked several times whether she wanted me there, whether she wanted me to make love to her. She did, and we did, and an hour or two later while she was sleeping I went to my room, got a few hours’ sleep, and caught an early morning flight. Just before I got on the plane I made an anonymous phone call to the hotel telling them that they had a guest in room seven-twelve who might need medical attention.”