The reception was highly unexpected. As the twin Victorian doors gradually open, and the first verse of Etta James 1960’s classic “At Last” poured over me, I was greeted by a pair of staring eyes with seemingly mixed intent. As the moments of nostalgia, supported by song, further entwined our gaze, details surrounding the outside world quickly became an impossibility to interpret as all else crumbled under the weight of the gravitational pull between us.
Now imprisoned within her eyes, every muscle and tendon and piece of living tissue down to the smallest particulate matter that was a part of me suddenly began to reject and feel repulsed by the sight of his proclaimed masterpiece. With a sudden shortness of breath, I stood with both hands pressed hard against my face so as to shield me from all external surroundings. But the torture, as it has always been, remained deeply embedded into the core stonewalls of my very existence. With the outer world falling away to blackness, my fingers pressed inwards, all in the attempts to reach inside and destroy once and for all those haunting calls of agony draped in a crimson of death.
With extremities disabled within the swirling dark vortex of fear, the gradual release to light found me in a damp confusion. With the broken identity of my former self exposed, Frank, the owner and renter of the property, aided me into the dim confines of the kitchen and with a large trembling hand, graciously offered up a much needed glass of water. With the softening of breath and the settling of nerves, I chanced a quick glance into his heavy, steely eyes while passing my open palm across the cold wet surface of my face.
“Didn’t mean to scare you with my art work, it usually doesn’t have that kind of an affect on people”.
Meeting his concerned eyes again, Frank stood uncomfortably close, staring down and observing the fine details of my face. Showered under the weight of his intimidating gaze, I lurched away from under his captivity while shrugging off the incident with a vulnerable laugh.
“No, no… it’s just a migraine that gets to me periodically. I am already feeling better”.
Draining the last of the cool water down into my unsettled self, I pressed on through the entryway leading to the well-kept but outdated living room. Still feeling dazed and not the least bit interested in the details one usually mulls over before signing a rental agreement, all I wanted was to be outside and to be breathing some fresh air but to my surprise, Frank hurriedly lumbered his heavy frame across the room and circled back into me before offering me the open door.
“So like I said over the phone, there are others interested in the place but if you think you might like it, I can hold off till tomorrow to have you sign the lease agreement”?
Hearing his words while looking over and beyond him, I fixated my eyes across the room onto Franks painting on the wall that he so eloquently called “The Reminder.” The large gaudy frame of gold complemented that of a single lady staring out from under the rim of her red umbrella. Her haunting big dark eyes seemed of witness to a horror that she was forever a capture of. It was those familiar eyes that were in subtle contradiction to her wide smiling painted lips of red, and only her eyes that stirred widely the emotional collision of love and hate deep within me.
Dropping my head for a moment then scanning out onto the portion of the well kept living space of a lightly furnished two-bed room lower unit; I shook the discomfort from my mind. After all, aside from needing something immediately, it was a great deal for a place in Sacramento’s posh neighborhood of Granite bay. Waving off the fear while again sensing Frank’s over bearing presence, I looked up and meeting with his eager eyes of a child, eyes that were begging me to accept, I relinquished a brief smile and secured the deal.
TWO WEEKS LATER
The transition from winter to summer seemed to have taken all of but a week. Tomorrow’s forecast was a high of ninety-eight degrees and with a week and half of April still with us, it was apparent that the dog days of summer had decided on an early arrival. I was indifferent to the heat, after all most of my time was now spent working indoors at a privately run clinic for the mentally ill. While my years involved in psychotherapy were now getting close to ten, I still never seemed to tire of the challenge it presented in trying to unlock and free those imprisoned by experiences of the past. What started out as an academic search for understanding my-self quickly turned into a full budding career.
With out looking to check the time of day, the now familiar streak of sun light cutting across the far wall, gave indication that I was again beyond my ten hours. Long workdays became a habit I picked up years ago after going separate ways with a girl I almost married. The routine filled the void of an absent social life that followed the breakup.
With the day’s patient files tucked away, I stood fixated for moment staring down at the bustle on 10th and H Street. Pedestrians of both workers and people getting in the days exercise, moved and merged in the late heat of the evening’s traffic. A light tap on the employee kitchen door suddenly broke me from my quiet moment.
“How’d the day go”?
Peering around the corner of the doorway was head director of the clinic Tom Haskins. His tall physical figure was imbued by an invisible clear, clean and welcoming presence, a field of energy that helped make the otherwise demanding work environment, a pleasure to be part of.
“Good…good, I am just getting ready to call it a day”.
Moving to join me in the kitchen, Tom settled his six-foot plus frame against the counter while his hands found the comforts of his trouser pockets.
“Got favor to ask, it seems our Sharon is yet the next in line to throw in the towel as far dealing with one of her patients. She has been at longer than anyone but she had asked me if you could take some of the pressure off her heavy work load”?
Tom reference was directed towards a long-term patient that all staff members through the years had at one point or another spent time with. His kind refused to open up at all and seemed to take on defiance for the help provided. Instead, this patient preferred to hold his ground in silence, always cut off and remained away and out of reach.
Nodding in acceptance, I felt I was ready for more of challenge than what was being offered thus far.
“Sure Tom, I’ll see what I can make of him or what he makes of me”.
Leaning up, Tom folded his wiry arms over his chest while politely clearing his throat.
“Look Pete, I know your abilities by now and I admire the motivation you have towards your work. You have more than proven being benefit to the clinic here, I just don’t want you to over extend yourself. If this offer is going to be too much for you take on right now…I can ask someone else”?
“No, no it will be ok. Just let me know when you want me to take over”?
A moment of awkward silence set in and sensing the sudden discomfort of the air in, Tom shed a large smile while landing an open hand to my shoulder.
“Well hey, new surroundings, new people, its not my tennis game is it”?
Apparently good at redefining the moment, Tom’s reference to our mismatch on the court was a timely break from the conversation that was at its end. I assured him I was fine and thanked him for the opportunity.
Although my professional abilities were without question, my self-assurance was oscillating, shifting well away from my confident center of self, and obviously becoming exposed to those around me. This being the case, I felt now was not the time to bring my own personal life issues out into the open to be shared with people of whom I was just getting to know. Grabbing at my carrying case, we both made our way out side and agreed on getting together next Sunday for another round of tennis.
The drive back to the house was a blur and I had not been on the route long enough for me to remain oblivious to the details of it. But my mind had drifted off in asking myself again as to whether Tom was picking up on my emotional discontentment. For how ever contained I had imagined it was, my increased sensitivities involving my emotional welfare was obviously surfacing to the light of others awareness.