Mom called Saturday
morning, the day after the school was out. She asked me if I had finished my
finals and that Grandma left at 11:15 local time. “Don’t worry,” she added, “we
are going to bring the ash back, and put it right next to Grandpa’s.”
“Ok, Mom.” I hung up
the phone and crawled back to bed. We shut off the phone and lit a candle.
I never thought that
I wouldn’t be around when it happens.
We shut out the world
to mourn. Then we realized, it’d be Grandma’s wish that we go out and live. It
has always been.
Monday, I followed
the routine and showed up in this office. “The doctor will see you now.”
The secretary led me
into the office, where a picture of human anatomy hangs on the wall.
“Come in. How are we
doing today? Oh have you read this?” he handed me an article in the newspaper,
stating that medical doctors are part of the richest professions in this
country. “Can you believe it? And me? I am also a doctor. But I am not making
as much as they do! I am barely making half of what they make! (We are talking about 8000 euros a month! So
around 4000 euros a month is not enough for you?!) The system is not fair
towards psychologists I am telling you… anyway… how are we doing today?”
“Grandma left last
Saturday.”
“Oh…”
Let me guess, you didn’t say anything contained the
word “condolence” because patients are supposed to be only subjects for you? Is
that how you define “professional”? Did I hear you correctly, your reaction
upon my news, had been, solely, “OH”?!
“You know I am glad
that you signed up for that class I suggested.”
“I didn’t sign up.” (Do you ever look at your own notes or listen
to your patients?)
“Oh. Eh… why?”
“Like I said last
week, the schedule for the coming semester is not online yet, and I need to see
when I have time outside of school, for other things.”
He stood up from the
desk, and I said to myself: “if you are going to show me your fucking
certificate again, for the 100th time, I am going to take that piece
of paper and slap it you across your face with it.”
“See? Here is my
certificate,” I wondered if he was suffering from Alzheimer. “I did a course
and it cost me more than 300 euros!”
I am not a violent
person, but I really wanted to slap him with it. I am bringing you around 90 euros an hour, and you are pushing it for
twice a week. I am not doing it, because I have a life, and more than ever, I
need to go out and live, not sitting here and counting your useless
certificates and listening to you bitch about how much money you would like to
make! Let me out! Let me out!
“We did some great
exercises during the seminar, in order to obtain the certificate. For example,
we spent 15 minutes with a grape. First of all, you don’t touch it, just look
at it; then you touch it a bit, with one finger, afterwards with two, or three;
before you put it between your teeth…”
My mind went blank
after 30 seconds, while he went on and on and on about this fucking great grape
that he had been in love with.
“So, how does it
improve my life?” I asked, noticing that he has stopped talking.
“It made everything
slower. For example, when you cook, don’t talk to anyone, but concentrate on
the things in your hand…”
“Listen, I do not
cook; secondly, when WE cook together, we talk to each other, because that’s
what people do when they are in a loving and satisfying relationship. People
TALK to each other! Even when he is cooking for me, I am in the kitchen too,
talking to him… because we are happy together!”
“It always surprises
me that you have a functional relationship. But yeah, take that 6-week class I
suggested. If this class were not good, that Institute wouldn’t have offered
it.” The Doc. uttered.
Well, it always surprises me that you are working
here, or the fact that being employed anywhere at all.
“I just lost the most
important woman in my life, facing financial and career crises, and all you can
offer is a 6-week class from a new age-y institute with the argument that
BECAUSE the course is from that institute, it can’t be wrong. Do I look stupid
to you? Do you think I am 5 years old? You might as well tell me something is
true because it says so in the Bible! I am gonna need a better argument than
that!”
Pause. Probably more uncomfortable
for him than for me.
“So, when can you
come twice a week?”
“I don’t know.” I don’t
even know if I want to be here at all, “I am waiting for the semester schedule
to be put online. I will let you know though. I don’t have the luxury to make
everything slower or to spend half an hour staring at two grapes every day. It
takes me 3 hours every time I come here, and 6 hours a week isn’t anything I can
afford in the near future.”
“But write to the institute
and ask about that class!”
Has this become a religion for you? Do you have doubts
in your own belief? If not, why would you try so desperately hard to convince
others? If others said yes, it’d confirm your conviction isn’t it? You are not
at peace either with yourself, so stop showing me your 300-euro certificate
every time I come.
“I am taking a break
from all this next week. So we will see each other in 2 weeks. OK?” I stood up,
as the session came to an end.
It hasn’t stopped
snowing for almost a week now. Grandma would have loved the snow. She told me
that I had been born in the coldest winter of the century. It was the first
time she had to go downstairs, filled buckets with snow, than melted it near
fire to get water, for the pipes were completely frozen. She said that children
survived the hardest winter were to be the strong ones; she said that she was
never afraid of winter because she always knew where her heart would be.
