Short Story: Joey Fairbanks Flashback to 1987
“The most important thing you have to determine is what you feel passionate about” She said with an arrogant smile as if what she was doing at that very moment, giving me advice was her passion.
“What If ones passions don’t lie within the social norms and ethics of society” I asked inquisitively hoping to trip her up on her verbal crusade of justified ethical superiority.
“That’s a good question” she pondered out loud. “Can you be more specific?”
“I can but a specific would lead to commentary on the specific and not really answer my question” I quipped, matching her arrogance.
“True, well if one pursues something outside of a social and ethical norm one has to be prepared for the consequences”
“Consequences?” I chimed
“Yes, preconceived notions of behavior and responsibility that are not fulfilled often lead to castration and isolation” She answered in a clinical tone.
It was then I realized that she was playing a game. The game that all psychologists play when they have patients who are not emotionally tied into their actions. I was young, I was only 17 and at first perhaps she thought I would be the standard simplistic case of a quick diagnosis and months of talks on shallow subject matter.
On the contrary, it was clear at this point that I had been able to rationalize a fair amount of reality in terms of situational socialization. The concept being that those of us who were knowledgeable of self could adapt to several social situations without compromising the core.
“I understand” I said softly
“So let’s create a supposed scenario you tell me what you think”
“Okay” She said, leaning forward and squinting at me
“Suppose I decided that there was a 54 year old psychologist that had offended my sense of intelligence and integrity as a human. Let’s suppose that, in my own warped sense of Justice I had decided to put her in a situation of either being raped violently or murdered execution style. What do you think the consequences would be?” My voice was calm, yet I retained that arrogant smile.
“That’s not funny” she said as she sat back in her chair.
“Can we be serious now” she inquired, matching my arrogance, attempting to assert control.
It was then that I sprung from my chair, I tackled her and I came to rest on her. I quickly placed my left forearm over her throat and pressed down, my body pressing against her violently like an animal ready to feed on its prey. She struggled but she was no match for me I was younger, stronger superior…..
“Well, which will it be? Rape or execution death? Snapping your neck would be the method by the way” I chimed in.
She struggled again and my right hand rose up and I slapped her across the face knocking her glasses off. It was after 6pm her office was quiet no one else was there just her and I.
“Rape” She said in a quiet voice
My hand ripped her blouse off and my left arm rose from her chest and moved to her throat as I began to choke her. Yes she was old, some would say a hag but it was all about the power…. The exchange is what made it so vibrant.
The session lasted for 45 minutes, she billed the insurance company for the full hour. She remained my doctor for another 5 years until she died of ovarian cancer. I never went to see her in the hospital, curiously in all of our sessions she always chose rape, despite black and blue, the blood and the complete violation I enacted upon her.
I often wonder “was it love?”
“What If ones passions don’t lie within the social norms and ethics of society” I asked inquisitively hoping to trip her up on her verbal crusade of justified ethical superiority.
“That’s a good question” she pondered out loud. “Can you be more specific?”
“I can but a specific would lead to commentary on the specific and not really answer my question” I quipped, matching her arrogance.
“True, well if one pursues something outside of a social and ethical norm one has to be prepared for the consequences”
“Consequences?” I chimed
“Yes, preconceived notions of behavior and responsibility that are not fulfilled often lead to castration and isolation” She answered in a clinical tone.
It was then I realized that she was playing a game. The game that all psychologists play when they have patients who are not emotionally tied into their actions. I was young, I was only 17 and at first perhaps she thought I would be the standard simplistic case of a quick diagnosis and months of talks on shallow subject matter.
On the contrary, it was clear at this point that I had been able to rationalize a fair amount of reality in terms of situational socialization. The concept being that those of us who were knowledgeable of self could adapt to several social situations without compromising the core.
“I understand” I said softly
“So let’s create a supposed scenario you tell me what you think”
“Okay” She said, leaning forward and squinting at me
“Suppose I decided that there was a 54 year old psychologist that had offended my sense of intelligence and integrity as a human. Let’s suppose that, in my own warped sense of Justice I had decided to put her in a situation of either being raped violently or murdered execution style. What do you think the consequences would be?” My voice was calm, yet I retained that arrogant smile.
“That’s not funny” she said as she sat back in her chair.
“Can we be serious now” she inquired, matching my arrogance, attempting to assert control.
It was then that I sprung from my chair, I tackled her and I came to rest on her. I quickly placed my left forearm over her throat and pressed down, my body pressing against her violently like an animal ready to feed on its prey. She struggled but she was no match for me I was younger, stronger superior…..
“Well, which will it be? Rape or execution death? Snapping your neck would be the method by the way” I chimed in.
She struggled again and my right hand rose up and I slapped her across the face knocking her glasses off. It was after 6pm her office was quiet no one else was there just her and I.
“Rape” She said in a quiet voice
My hand ripped her blouse off and my left arm rose from her chest and moved to her throat as I began to choke her. Yes she was old, some would say a hag but it was all about the power…. The exchange is what made it so vibrant.
The session lasted for 45 minutes, she billed the insurance company for the full hour. She remained my doctor for another 5 years until she died of ovarian cancer. I never went to see her in the hospital, curiously in all of our sessions she always chose rape, despite black and blue, the blood and the complete violation I enacted upon her.
I often wonder “was it love?”