Shrinking Violet

 

“Why does this hurt so much?” I closed my eyes and laid down on the couch. He sat still in his armchair, quietly jotting notes with his gold pen.

“I don’t know, Violet. Why do you think it hurts so much?” he replied. 

All these sessions seem to be the same. I ask questions and I get questions for answers. Just once, I’d like to hear him say something different. 

“Let’s look at this issue from a different perspective.”

“Okay I’m game,” I said. 

“Let’s suppose you were a flower in an open field. You were a wildflower and there were dozens like you all around. Would you feel different than you do right now?”

I knew what he was getting at and so I found this question easy to answer. “Yes,” I said. “All my sisters would be near me. They would understand.”

“Okay,” he said. “Now suppose a storm came through and destroyed half of the wildflowers. Would you still feel the same way?”

 “Yes, I would. Because my situation has not changed. Not only that, but now some of my sisters have been taken away from me. It’s loss upon loss. Wouldn’t you feel that way too?”

He closed his eyes in thought, rubbing his hands over his beard. “Probably not.”

“This is why I don’t go to male therapists,” I said. “I just don’t think you understand.” I got up out of my seat and left the room. I didn’t want to come back. Ten seconds later, I knocked on the door. He opened the door slowly. “Yes?”

“I left my car keys on the couch.” I walked back in and briskly grabbed them, shoving them into my pocket. 

He gave me a pensive look. “I’m beginning to see the reason why this arrangement isn’t working out.”

I tilted my head to the right. “What do you mean?”

“I saw the way you treated those keys.”

I looked at him, and raised my right eyebrow. “This is an inanimate object. Why does that even matter?” I asked.

“You can’t tell me it doesn’t matter.” He walked with me out to the lobby, and sat down on the couch next to the receptionist desk. Her window was closed, as she happily typed away, oblivious to our conversation. 

“I never fail to understand women these days. They think they can treat men a certain way and then they demand respect in return.”

“This doesn’t make sense to me,” I said, sitting down across from him. “What do you know about how I treat men?”

“I think you treat men the way you treated those keys. You forget about them easily and to you, they only serve a utilitarian purpose.”

 I took my keys out of my pocket and looked at them, running my finger along the jagged edge of each one. I looked at him, considering the heaviness of what he just said. “So…what’s the solution?” I said.

He smiled. “There is no solution, because for you, this is not a problem to be solved. It’s just the way it is.” 

I looked down at my keys once more, shoving them into my jacket pocket. As I made my way toward the door, I turned, making eye contact with him for the last time.  “Don’t worry,” he said, rising to step back into his office. “You’ll be just fine.” I walked out of his office and out of the building. 

As soon as I got in my car, I took a deep breath and put my hands on the steering wheel. “He’s right,” I said to myself. “It’s all going to be okay.” I turned the ignition, wondering where I should go now. I pondered whether to go home or to my friend’s house. The rain on my windshield gave me my answer, and the rainbow on the distant horizon hovered, waiting for the right moment after the storm. I smiled and turned left. ⚢