segunda-feira, 9 de abril de 2012

The Shrink

It was her first time. She didn't even know why she was doing this. She didn't even know who this guy was. She just knew that someone had told her to go, and she went. She had never had prejudice about that. She always said 'It is a shrink, why do I have to bother? Isn't it just like talking to my old man about the weather or even talk to the taxi driver about my last disappointment?'.

But she also knew that what kept her toes curling and her nose iching wasn't that certainty of the good shrink's work. It was her fear of talking about it. Of talking about that specific thing that gave her so much pleasure. Since 15. Since 12. Since 5. Since she was born, actually. Her mother said she used to play it since 2.

Wow, that was quite an age, wasn't it?

But ok. A shrink. A completely stranger. Someone else in the mixed crowd of professionals. And she was paying for this, for God's sake! It was not like... a crime or something. It was just... a thing.

Everybody did this. What the hell was wrong if she talked and did it since she knew herself?
It turns out that 'it' was who she thought she was.

She crossed her legs - left one above the right one - e lighted a cigarrette. It was a place to be comfortable, right?

She looked at him.

He seemed a bit tired, a bit worried, a bit bored.

But he looked good, no doubt.

His legs were crossed too. But crossed in the 'masculine' way. One arm was on the armchair as the other was supported by the elbow, leaving the fingers tapping on his temper. He seemed serious. Like he was expecting her to talk.

- Do I have to talk first? - she asked, with a thick thread of voice.

He said nothing.

Maybe he was expecting her to say her complete name. Age. Address. Something.
Bullshit! She had seen this before. On movies and shit. She had to do the talking, like some freaking old lady to her husband after twenty-fucking-years of marriage.

Ok, she was paying for this. She did worse in her life.

Oh, fuck.

- I mean... Why do I have to be polite about this? - she began, the voice stronger but still calm. - Is that some tricky way to decide people's lives? Is that right ou is that wrong? And why is IT inside of this?

The man didn't move a single finger. (Except for those ones which were tapping the temper).

She breathed again. And continued.

- I like society. I like the rules. I play by them. With no rules there's no fun. No pain. No victory. - she said, and the conviction of the setence made her feel more confident.

She smoked and let the burning smokes fly all over the place.

She paused. And then continued.

- I like tradition. I like culture. I think that makes us who we are, you know? Like... I like when someone tells me what to do because easy ways are just... easy.

He lifted an eyebrow and then stared again.

- You know... these... prohibitions that they make don't hurt me. - she admitted, nodding. - Used to get me questioning, but now... I know they play their roll. I play mine.

He moved.

He uncrossed his legs and breathed.

And talked.

- And which is it? - he asked, barely moving his jaws.

Instead of looking surprised - as she was inside - she considered it for a moment. Smoke again.

- I think... - she stalled the answer because she knew the answer itself wouldn't be as dramatic as the tone of her voice. - I think mine is the lost and found girl part.

- Lost and found? - he asked again, voice low.

- Yeah. - she answered. - Sometimes I think I'm lost when I am just found. Do you know what I mean?

She was sincerely hoping he was getting it. She didn't want to speak that again. It was one of those 'one time only' things.

- Sort of. - he said, with honesty in his voice.

And got to his initial position.

She breathed again, this time heavily. It was a bit exhaustive. But it was ok.

- I think I am lost because of these things and then again I feel found because I know He loves me by who I am. I don't feel guilty and all that shit. It is just like... human stuff. Sometines, when I was young, I used to picture them... beside me. Inside me. It was fun and it was nice.

She felt the tears but didn't dropped them.

- But then.. later.. I realized I really needed them. Alive.

Her voice cracked like a broken mirror. She continued.

- I need them alive. And yes, it is more than one. I don't need just John. I need Elvis. I need Bruce. I need Carl. I need Paul. I need all of them. Separated and together, if they will. I need the girls, too. Carmen, Elisa, Julia, all of them.

One tear just slipped. She didn't wiped it.

- I need one or many. I don't know. I just need. And it's that needing of someone else to be complete that kills me! It kills me!

She started to cry now. It was no doubt of it. No masks. No pretending.

- I just.... - she started again, almost moaning. - I just wanna be complete with myself. I... I don't wanna end up alone. I...

She cried and cried. He just watched.

As her heart was living a horse race, she was blind by tears. Her cigarrette fell on the floor and she was almost numb by sorrow. She almost didn't feel a thing. Tears, sweat, breath, hair, everything was heavy. Her own body was way too much for her to carry. Her soul was restless.

Her mind was a ticking bomb clock.

- Someone said that living alone was like living a nightmare without the waking-up part. - she said, between tears. - I do believe that. I am in one.

He let her cry and said nothing for a few more moments. Her problem wasn't inside her. It was really on the outside. But she didn't know it. Wouldn't know it.

Unless she wanted to.

- Why don't you? - he asked, now with a sharp tone.

She bumped on her seat and looked straight to him.

- Why I don't what? - she said, obviously confused.

He stared back.

- Why don't you wake up?

She blanked.

- What? What do you expect me to do? Do you expect me to give up? Do you expect me to... to... not wait for it? Do you expect me to screw my life up? To just... let go?

He didn't answer.

She kept quiet for an instance. Her brain was fuzzy and she was absolutely baffled.

- I can't... I just can't.

Her voice was thin again. Like the freaking old lady on the beginning of the story.

He breathed deep and crossed his legs again. But this time, the gesture wasn't so displicent. He licked his lips and blinked twice slowly. Her heart was still in a race but her eyes were flat.


He cleared his throat. And said:

- Your problem can be solved. But only if or when you find a partner.

She nearly smiled with that one.