Help
As I walk away, I see what I least want to see right now: someone heading in our--no, in my--direction. I alter my course to make it more difficult for him to reach me, walking fast, but he presists. A minute later he is walking beside me.
"Are you one of the people who was in the Centre?" I sigh, then nod. Maybe if I don't look at him he'll go away. "Where are you headed?" he continues. I notice what my eyes hadn't yet taken in: I'm headed toward the water. I shrug, slowly changing my direction so that I am moving toward the trees, directly away from the Centre.
"Just enjoying the great outdoors?" Ugh. He is CLEARLY a psychiatrist, and I really don't want to deal with him right now. I come to a stop, and turn toward him.
"Look--" I stop for a moment to remove the anger from my voice. "I'd like some time to myself... If you really want to talk to someone, try that woman back there. It'd probably do her some good to talk to you." That finished, I turn and start walking again, faster this time.
To my unpleasant surprise, he's still next to me. I stop again, and this time I don't bother to control my anger. "What do you want?!"
His response is calm, quiet. "I think you could use someone to talk to right now... even if you don't think that's what you want."
Sighing heavily, I start walking again. Maybe I can tire him out. The Centre keeps me in pretty good shape. Kept.
He is silent for almost two minutes, then speaks again. "Are you trying to somewhere, or leave somewhere?"
"Does it make a difference?" I mutter irritatedly. For good judges of character psychiatrists can take a long time to take a hint.
"Yes--if you're trying to leave, you can't ever arrive."
"Maybe I have nowhere to arrive."
"Of course you do. There has to be something you want to do, somewhere you want to go."
"Not really."
"Or is it that you don't deserve to go anywhere?"
Okay, enough is enough. I halt again. "Look, I just found out that I have a five-year gap in my memory, courtesy of the only two people I've ever trusted in my life, and that I've spent basically my entire life thinking up things used to murder innocent people," I yell in his face. "Now can I PLEASE get rid of my personal psychiatrist, already??"
I start walking again, crossing my arms belligerently and hopping no one else chooses this moment to have a conversation with me.
I hear the sound of leaves crunching next to me. I look over. I don't believe it--he's STILL there.
"Just for future reference, telling a psychiatrist about your problems is not a good way to get rid of him."
"What about threatening him with violence?" I mutter darkly.
"I wouldn't suggest picking on someone bigger than you," he replies, amusement in his voice. I look over and see what I hadn't noticed before--he may be only 2-3 inches taller than me, but he's much bigger, and it's all muscle. Great.
"I take it that's in case your irritating presence doesn't get rid of all the sane clients."
"Actually, it's to protect me when my patients try other methods of shutting me up," he responds in a lightly amused voice.
Silence falls for the moment. Once again, he's the one to break it. "I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Dr. Parenti, but you can call me Max."
"Don't you think the doctor-patient relationship will be disrupted if we are on a first name basis?"
"I'm willing to take the risk, Jarod."
I sigh. So our meeting wasn't quite as 'accidental' as he made it appear. "I knew there had to be a reason you were stalking me."
"Hmm, I like that. 'Massimo Parenti, stalker.'"
"Sei italiano."
"Parli l'italiano."
"Parlo molte lingue."
"Tutte le lingue come fossero la tua madre lingua?"
"It's a talent." Silence. "So if threatening and yelling don't work, how DO I get rid of you?"
"Ah, the magic question. All you have to do is talk to me until I'm satisfied."
"Why do I get the feeling its going to be a while?" The response is sarcastic, but I'm surprised to find that the concept no longer makes me quite so angry.
"I hope not. I can't keep up with your wit much longer, and we're going to have to stop walking eventually."
"How about here?" We seem to be in the middle of a forest. A forest that seems vaguely familiar to me. I shake my head.
"How does that fallen tree look? I need to sit."
"How do you feel about wood rats?" I grin as he stops halfway over. "Let's try this stump instead." There was plenty of room for both of us, but not facing one another.
"Okay, smart aleck, you win."
"Smart aleck?" There was a phrase I'd never heard.
"Yeah, you know, someone who is smart and likes to show it off, at other's expense."
Interesting. "But then why don't you call me 'smart Jarod'?"
The psychiatrist laughs. "Maybe Alec was REALLY obnoxious."
"More than me?" I fake being offended.
"You're not so bad, except that hostility towards psychiatrists."
"Only psychiatrists who think they're funny." I pause. "Or when I'm angry," I admit.
"Angry at someone, or yourself?"
I sigh. "Mostly myself. And the situation."
"Isn't it at least nice to be out of the Centre?"
"It would be better if I hadn't been informed of what I was doing while I was in there." I feel a bit of the frustration coming back.
"And what was that?"
"Killing innocent people."
-------
More is coming eventually, I can only type so fast!
"I need to learn to write with my left hand." "Why?" "My right one tires too fast."
As I walk away, I see what I least want to see right now: someone heading in our--no, in my--direction. I alter my course to make it more difficult for him to reach me, walking fast, but he presists. A minute later he is walking beside me.
"Are you one of the people who was in the Centre?" I sigh, then nod. Maybe if I don't look at him he'll go away. "Where are you headed?" he continues. I notice what my eyes hadn't yet taken in: I'm headed toward the water. I shrug, slowly changing my direction so that I am moving toward the trees, directly away from the Centre.
"Just enjoying the great outdoors?" Ugh. He is CLEARLY a psychiatrist, and I really don't want to deal with him right now. I come to a stop, and turn toward him.
"Look--" I stop for a moment to remove the anger from my voice. "I'd like some time to myself... If you really want to talk to someone, try that woman back there. It'd probably do her some good to talk to you." That finished, I turn and start walking again, faster this time.
To my unpleasant surprise, he's still next to me. I stop again, and this time I don't bother to control my anger. "What do you want?!"
His response is calm, quiet. "I think you could use someone to talk to right now... even if you don't think that's what you want."
Sighing heavily, I start walking again. Maybe I can tire him out. The Centre keeps me in pretty good shape. Kept.
He is silent for almost two minutes, then speaks again. "Are you trying to somewhere, or leave somewhere?"
"Does it make a difference?" I mutter irritatedly. For good judges of character psychiatrists can take a long time to take a hint.
"Yes--if you're trying to leave, you can't ever arrive."
"Maybe I have nowhere to arrive."
"Of course you do. There has to be something you want to do, somewhere you want to go."
"Not really."
"Or is it that you don't deserve to go anywhere?"
Okay, enough is enough. I halt again. "Look, I just found out that I have a five-year gap in my memory, courtesy of the only two people I've ever trusted in my life, and that I've spent basically my entire life thinking up things used to murder innocent people," I yell in his face. "Now can I PLEASE get rid of my personal psychiatrist, already??"
I start walking again, crossing my arms belligerently and hopping no one else chooses this moment to have a conversation with me.
I hear the sound of leaves crunching next to me. I look over. I don't believe it--he's STILL there.
"Just for future reference, telling a psychiatrist about your problems is not a good way to get rid of him."
"What about threatening him with violence?" I mutter darkly.
"I wouldn't suggest picking on someone bigger than you," he replies, amusement in his voice. I look over and see what I hadn't noticed before--he may be only 2-3 inches taller than me, but he's much bigger, and it's all muscle. Great.
"I take it that's in case your irritating presence doesn't get rid of all the sane clients."
"Actually, it's to protect me when my patients try other methods of shutting me up," he responds in a lightly amused voice.
Silence falls for the moment. Once again, he's the one to break it. "I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Dr. Parenti, but you can call me Max."
"Don't you think the doctor-patient relationship will be disrupted if we are on a first name basis?"
"I'm willing to take the risk, Jarod."
I sigh. So our meeting wasn't quite as 'accidental' as he made it appear. "I knew there had to be a reason you were stalking me."
"Hmm, I like that. 'Massimo Parenti, stalker.'"
"Sei italiano."
"Parli l'italiano."
"Parlo molte lingue."
"Tutte le lingue come fossero la tua madre lingua?"
"It's a talent." Silence. "So if threatening and yelling don't work, how DO I get rid of you?"
"Ah, the magic question. All you have to do is talk to me until I'm satisfied."
"Why do I get the feeling its going to be a while?" The response is sarcastic, but I'm surprised to find that the concept no longer makes me quite so angry.
"I hope not. I can't keep up with your wit much longer, and we're going to have to stop walking eventually."
"How about here?" We seem to be in the middle of a forest. A forest that seems vaguely familiar to me. I shake my head.
"How does that fallen tree look? I need to sit."
"How do you feel about wood rats?" I grin as he stops halfway over. "Let's try this stump instead." There was plenty of room for both of us, but not facing one another.
"Okay, smart aleck, you win."
"Smart aleck?" There was a phrase I'd never heard.
"Yeah, you know, someone who is smart and likes to show it off, at other's expense."
Interesting. "But then why don't you call me 'smart Jarod'?"
The psychiatrist laughs. "Maybe Alec was REALLY obnoxious."
"More than me?" I fake being offended.
"You're not so bad, except that hostility towards psychiatrists."
"Only psychiatrists who think they're funny." I pause. "Or when I'm angry," I admit.
"Angry at someone, or yourself?"
I sigh. "Mostly myself. And the situation."
"Isn't it at least nice to be out of the Centre?"
"It would be better if I hadn't been informed of what I was doing while I was in there." I feel a bit of the frustration coming back.
"And what was that?"
"Killing innocent people."
-------
More is coming eventually, I can only type so fast!
"I need to learn to write with my left hand." "Why?" "My right one tires too fast."