"If I have the gift of prophesy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge,
and if I have a faith that can move mountains,
but have not love, I am nothing."
1 Corinthians 13:2
Her phone began to play her classical ringtone. Pamela Isley's green eyes strayed from the road in front of her to her purse in the passenger's seat. Thankfully, a she was almost to a red light. As she braked, she dug around in her purse before pulling out her cell phone. Flipping it open, she said, "Hello?"
"Pam! Do you want to get coffee? We could go over the results findings." Dr. Jason Woodrue's voice loud, raucous voice blared through her phone. She held it slightly away from her ear. He had a bad habit of yelling into receivers.
"That sounds good," she said noncommittally.
"Great! We can meet at the coffee shop off Harding Street."
"Okay."
He hung up without any more words. Pamela tossed her phone back into her purse and hit the gas just as the light changed. Crossing over the bridge into the Narrows, she finally realized where she was. As she tapped her thumbs against the steering wheel, it occurred to her that in three blocks she would pass Arkham Asylum. It was almost evening –near quitting time for workers. On the spur of the moment, she flipped on her turn signal and changed lanes. It was always more fun to get together with more people.
The receptionist at the doors of the Asylum directed her to the floor of Dr. Crane's office. She wondered if this was a bad idea; it was rather spur of the moment idea to invite him to coffee. Was it too forward? She smoothed her skirt over her hips as she exited the elevator. They were only acquaintances; she knew more about his work than about the man. He was an expert on the emotion of fear, and had gone into psychology and psychopharmacology to better understand the way the mind worked. However, she had no idea what his favorite television show was (assuming he had one), a favorite book, or a favorite food.
Well, maybe this will be a get-to-know-you sort of coffee, she thought to herself as she walked up to his open office door. She could see him writing something in a file, with his hair in his eyes. Her mouth opened without consent from her brain and asked the question she had been wondering.
"What is your fascination with fear?" a voice asked him. Jonathan looked up from his desk at Arkham where he was going over a patient's case file. There in the doorway was Dr. Isley in a brown top and green gypsy skirt that matched her eyes. Her cheeks began to turn a light shade of pink.
"Why do you ask?" he inquired, regaining his voice. He was curious to see her here, and wondered if she had sought him out on purpose.
"You wrote two research papers and a dissertation on the subject, and your work is centered around it," she replied, moving to sit in a chair on the other side of the desk. "What is the motivation for such an attraction?"
"Fear is the great motivator, Dr. Isley." He leaned back and observed her relaxed pose.
"Or paralyzer," she put in. "Aren't psychiatrists supposed to combat fear?"
"Of course. But fear is a very complex emotion."
"Really? I find it very simple." When he raised his eyebrows behind his glasses, she continued, "It stems from lack of understanding. If humans do not understand something, they either strive to gain understanding, or fear the strange thing. And soon, the fear turns to hate, because we hate the thing we fear because we do not understand it. Circular logic." She crossed her right leg over the other in a satisfied way.
"So you would argue that it is really fear that is the opposite of love, and not hate?" Crane inquired, leaning forward.
"No," she said, blinking. "It wasn't a converse* statement."
"Why not?"
"Well, you can hate a person, but you might not necessarily be afraid of them," she said. "It could be, but it isn't always true."
"Then couldn't fear becoming hate only be sometimes true?" Jonathan countered.
She thought about this. "It would have to be a very weak-minded person or a very forgiving person who could prove me wrong. In general, say, a person who was abused as a child would be afraid of their abuser, but sooner or later would begin to hate their antagonist for making them feel fearful and weak."
He acknowledged this might be possible, and filed it away in his mind for further study.
"However, I didn't come here to debate with you," she said, biting her blower lip in an embarrassed fashion. "I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee with me and a colleague of mine, Dr. Jason Woodrue."
He might have said yes, but became very still when she mentioned her colleague's name. "Does he know you've invited me?" he asked.
"No," she said, a little puzzled. "Does it matter?"
"He and I …do not see eye-to-eye," Crane said. It wasn't nearly the whole tale, but he would let it go for now. It took too long to tell. "I'm afraid I must decline for now."
"I'm sorry. Care to take a rain check?" she asked, getting up. The ends of her red locks curled around her shoulders.
"Yes, please," he said, gathering his papers.
"Another time, then," she said, smiling gently and making for the door.
"Dr. Isley." She stopped and turned back at the sound of his voice. "You're right."
"About what?" She asked.
"A man could hate another man but not fear him at all." His blue eyes were level, steady.
She considered his words, and their meaning. "Thank you. Good night, Dr. Crane."
"Good night, Dr. Isley."
The door clicked softly behind her as she slipped away. He turned the pen he was holding around in his hands as he thought about this dilemma. Jason Woodrue was Dr. Isley's colleague. She obviously had no problems with him if she didn't mind having coffee with him. He felt like trying to snap his pen from some violent emotion that had suddenly overtaken him –jealousy. What was there to be jealous about, besides the fact that a man he detested was an acquaintance with a lovely young doctor that he happened to have an acquaintance with also? Absolutely nothing, he told himself as he filed away the patient's case until tomorrow. Absolutely nothing.
* Converse - In geometry, a statement that is true both ways. Example: if a conditional statement is 'if p, then q', then its converse is 'if q, then p.' Pam meant that her statement was true one way, but not true the reverse direction. This doesn't make her wrong, though.
Also, I am only theorizing about what would happen in the abuser situation. I don't actually know. Please don't harp on this point. It was only an example.
:) Reviews are welcome.
