Word Weld

“Good morning. Please, have a seat.”

The woman in front of me gestured to the chair beside me, as I stood in front of her desk. She had just been seated herself, and was opening the large manila folder that had my name printed on the tab. I disliked her already. She was young and attractive, slightly on the short side, black hair, brown eyes, kinda thin.  Not the kind of person I wanted to see for this, and that was on top of it being the last thing I’d ever want to do in my life.

I sat down abruptly and stared at her. She looked like she had a bit of Asian, from the roundness of her face, and the slight slant to her eyes.  Wearing gray striped straight pants, a white blouse with those frill things on it, and a black suit coat, she looked pretty nice, but that didn’t change the way I felt about her one bit. She was the enemy.

“Mr. James?” she looked over my file, as I examined the exotic potted plants that infested the lavish office. “Your first name is given as ‘Wrath.’ Is that your birth name?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

“That’s very unusual,” she observed, looking a bit amused. “And you were a Lieutenant Commander in the Navy, correct? You were a pilot?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“From what your commanding officer told me, and from just skimming your file, I can see you were a career military officer. Do you know why you’re here?”

“I’m here to get my benefits,” I said stiffly. “I was told that in order to be eligible, I would have to be checked out by a psychiatrist.”

“I see,” she clasped her hands atop the folder and looked down for a moment, then smiled again. “Do you go by Wrath?”

“I do.”

“My name is Dr. Jacqueline Leong. I have spoken with your commanding officer, Colonel Garcia, and he has informed me that in order to qualify for any benefits you will have to undergo counseling for a minimum of twelve months, followed by an evaluation by a board of review on which the Colonel will sit. I know this is probably bad news to you, Wrath.”

I shook my head and looked away. It was like Garcia to do that to me. But he had done me well for so many years, what could I say?

“The good news,” she continued. “Is that you will receive your benefits if and until you no longer comply with the Navy’s directions concerning your psychiatric treatment. However, you must attend all of your appointments and cooperate with my treatment. I don’t like having this kind of relationship with my patients, because it can take half of our time just to break down the illusion of my help as a negative or oppressive control. We are about to embark on a journey to find out what it is that prevents you from functioning in life as you expect yourself to.”

“Can we dispense with the malarkey?” I asked. “Or is that a required part of the process? This isn’t a journey and you aren’t getting inside my head, Doctor. This is called military drama. It’s called, get-kicked-out-for-not-going-along-with-everyone-else.”

“Why don’t we drop some of the trappings of my profession,” she suggested, rising from the desk and leaving the folder upon it. She made her way to the side of the room where there was a large window covered with sheer curtains, and sat down in one of two chairs, each of which had an end table next to it. She gestured to the one opposite her and waited patiently.

Still hating every moment of this situation, I rose and threw myself down into the other chair, slumping down and trying to be as impudent as possible. She looked amused.

“I get it, Wrath,” she said presently, “you’re a military man. You’re pretty tough, used to being straightforward, and maybe a little rough around the edges. On top of that, I can tell you’re also willful, but that you respect those you consider stronger than you. I can tell that just by how you look when I talk about the Colonel. Now, having said that, we’re going to have to begin our relationship a little differently than most people when they meet. If I was a girl you met at a coffee shop or talked to on a bus, our relationship if it even started would be much different, even though you are married. It’s going to be harder for us to connect at all and really communicate about what’s going on in your life, because you have a lot of barriers that you have unconsciously put up concerning me.”

“Really?” I felt bored. “And what barriers are those?”

“Well, I can tell right away that you feel uncomfortable talking to a woman,” Jacqueline replied. “That’s a pretty easy one, and predictable even before we met. It is common for men to have a hard time expressing even simple feelings to women. You also feel uncomfortable because I am younger than you are. You are a man of the world, a man of experience, of ambition—that’s all in your file over there. You’re a high ranking Navy pilot with combat experience in the Persian Gulf. Who am I? You probably thought about how I must be right out of college or that I wasn’t even old enough to be a Doctor, right?”

I said nothing this time, but that didn’t bother her.

“As a matter of fact, I’m only three years younger than you are,” she smiled. “I have also served as a military psychologist for over 2 years. I only started my own practice 5 years go. I’m 30 years old. But it’s not just that I’m a woman or that I’m younger than you are. You’re also uncomfortable with anything you don’t understand, like a lot of the big psychological ideas and terminology. So I’m not going to use those terms with you. I’m not going to have you lie down on a couch and tell me about your childhood. We will do this like you’re used to, military style. I haven’t read what the Colonel put in that file about what happened. I don’t know anything about it. I want to hear your story today, and then I’ll read what other people said about it.”

“What story?” I frowned.

She sighed and took off her little oval glasses, and set them on the table beside her. She crossed her legs, clasped her hands atop her knee, and stared at me.

“Lieutenant,” she said, “why are you here? What brought you to my door? What were the circumstances of your discharge?”

“All right,” I felt good about her introduction, for some reason, and that made me dislike it. But I went on, “I was discharged on the basis of a ‘Personality Disorder.’ My senior officer thought that was the best way to describe what goes on inside my head.”

“How would you describe what goes on inside your head?”

“I don’t know,” I looked her right in the eye. “When I am on duty, I follow my orders. I listen to my superiors. I’m good at what I do. I’m a pilot and I’m honestly one of the best they have. I can push myself better than most, harder than most. I’ve been in combat, both in the air on the on the ground. I’ve taken lives, and it didn’t bother me to do so.”

“The Colonel told me you are unpredictable,” she said. “He said you barely sleep, and that you have difficulty focusing sometimes. He said that sometimes you make other people feel uncomfortable, particularly some of your officers.”

“Did he say how I make them feel uncomfortable?”

“He said you have a kind of aura,” she frowned. “People feel physically uncomfortable around you when you work with others.”

“I don’t work well with others,” I admitted. “I work best by myself.”

“How do you view others when you are asked to work together?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

“What are coworkers to you? Are they partners, or are they obstacles?”

“It depends,” I shrugged. “A good wingman is a partner, but most everyone out there just slows you down. For those of us who are actually good, it doesn’t help anyone to get stuck with rookies. I don’t like having to pull other people up to my level. When someone’s trying to swim and someone whose drowning grabs them, it doesn’t magically make them both strong swimmers, it just puts everybody on the line.”

“So, what happened to cause your discharge?” she asked pointedly. “What were the circumstances? Were you working with someone? Did something happen between you, perhaps an exchange?”

“Blake Thompson is a jack–” I caught myself. Profanity is commonplace in the military, among other vices, and despite my Christian upbringing I had struggled with it. But if my wife and I were going to live together peaceably I was going to have to make it work, and this was as good a place as any to start correcting myself. “Lieutenant Blake Thompson is an idiot. Everybody on base knew that. Everyone will know it wherever he goes.”

“So, you had an argument,” she deduced. “Perhaps it escalated into a fight? It seems to me you have a bit of a temper, besides being fairly sure of yourself.”

“We argued all the time, but this time he wanted a right fight. He confronted me off duty, off base, in a parking lot. He said he heard I made some comments about his cheating on his wife, which I said I wasn’t ashamed of. Well, he started making comments about me and my wife.”

“And you and your wife have arguments… problems?” Jacqueline asked in the pause.

I hesitated.

“Everybody has problems,” was all I could think to say. It was weak, but she caught me off guard. I hate being caught off guard.

“But you have a temper,” she observed, “and you generally make people feel uncomfortable, for whatever reason. That could very well be biological. You mentioned the word ‘aura’ before. Some people have oils and chemicals in their skin that can make them attractive or unattractive to other people. Just from a short conversation with you I can tell that you speak your mind freely, and don’t place much value on discretion. Given all of this added together, I guessed that your marriage would be a difficult one. So, what did he say about your wife?”

“He said some things I’d rather not repeat,” I grit my teeth.

“And then you hit him?”

“I didn’t hit him.”

“But there was an altercation, a physical one?”

“Yes, yes there was,” I sighed. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to tell her. “Thompson says I burned him.”

“You burned him?” she frowned. “Did he have burns? I haven’t read the file, as you recall.”

“He did have burns on his face and upper arms.”

“So you burned him?” Jacqueline was surprised for once. “W-What with?”

There was a long, long silence. Her grandfather clock ticked away.

“I don’t really know,” I said finally.

She turned her head to face me more fully, and her already narrow eyes narrowed more. I could tell this was going to be the hardest part of the session. This woman, whatever I thought about her, was intelligent, and she was not easy to lie to. My statement was a half-truth, but I wasn’t sure how she would respond to it.

“Did you have anything with you at the time?” she asked.

“Nope, nothing hot.”

Again there was a long silence.

“Wrath,” she leaned forward, “you do know that what we talk about here is confidential?”

“Unless the right someone is asking about it, you mean.”

“I need you to be honest with me, Wrath. This is just between us. This is not an investigation. The Military Court has already made their ruling and this will change nothing. This is just so you can figure out how to cope with whatever is going on.”

“You want the truth?” I smiled, suddenly very irritated. “Fine, Jacqueline. Here’s the truth, so we can get on with this, and let me tell you I’ll deny I said it if you tell anyone. I burned him with my mind.”

“With your mind?” she seemed incredulous.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Like this…”

I turned and stared at her little metal trash can by the side of her desk, and as I did, smoke began to rise from within it. Jacqueline’s eyes widened. Then a tongue of yellow flame sprung up from the midst of the waste paper. My therapist stared at both it and me, but I frowned. Though she was quite surprised, she was far less surprised than I thought she would be.

“Can you put it out?” she stuttered at last.

Squinting at her, I focused my thought upon it and the tongue of fire vanished into thin air. Jacqueline looked uncomfortable and squirmed in her plush chair for a moment and licked her lips. Then she composed herself, looked me in the eye, and continued.

“How long have you had this ability?”

I was silent for a few moments.

“I just set a fire in your trash can without touching the trash can…” I was making sure she wasn’t just in shock or something. “You know that’s impossible, right?”

“Of course,” she frowned, as if offended.

“Ok,” I held my hands up. “Just making sure you were still with me.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve seen some pretty crazy things before you,” she said, surprising me.

“Crazy as that?”

“Possibly…” Jacqueline took a deep breath. “Wrath, I’m a Christian, and I believe in miracles, even in our day. I believe that God works, and that His presence is the only thing that can explain many things we see in our world. What do you think of your powers? How do you explain them?”

“I’m sorry,” I smiled irresistibly, “are you making fun of me? Is this some kind of defense mechanism you have against traumatic experiences? Or did you press a panic button and you’re just waiting for the cops to show up?”

“Please don’t misunderstand my reaction,” she shut her eyes for a moment. “Honestly, when I heard about your problem, I wanted to talk to you. I suspected you might have something going on when I spoke to a colleague of mine, the first doctor assigned to your case. He was concerned about taking you on as a patient. He thought the whole thing was military politics and didn’t want to get involved. But when I heard some of what happened, I thought there was a chance you were a person with a very unique problem. I know someone else who may be able to help you understand and control what’s going on in your life, and maybe between the two of us we can help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” I retorted, getting annoyed with her again. “What I need is to get my benefits so I can get back to looking for a job and supporting my family. I don’t believe in God and I don’t think this is a miracle.”

“Then what do you think about it?” she asked again, softly.

“I don’t know, Jacqueline!” I shouted. “Frankly, the last person I told about this thought I was nuts, and when I showed it to them, thought I was the devil, so I don’t get a lot of your reaction, and I don’t get much from those with your religious beliefs either.”

“Alright, let’s go back to what we were discussing before,” she said soothingly. “You said that you were having an argument with Thompson when you burned him. Did you mean to burn him?”

I hesitated, she changed gears on me and it was probably to diffuse my irritation.

“I don’t know, maybe,” I sat back suddenly, annoyed that she had diffused me somewhat. “But what does it matter? Aren’t you more concerned about what I can do and why?”

“I’m not here to dissect you,” she replied. “I realize you have lived most of your life in the military, as a matter of career. Since this is the kind of thing the military would love to use, you must be very good at keeping it a secret. But something happened recently–something upset that balance. You’ve got a temper, I can easily see, but that’s not enough to explain it. Somehow, your abilities are tied to your emotions or your mental state in some Incredible Hulk-like fashion, and something caused you to lose control at that moment. What was it?”

I was silent.

“You seem rather committed to your family, despite having no religious backing to it,” Jacqueline pondered while she vainly awaited my response. “You mentioned that Thompson said some comments about your wife that you’d rather not repeat. You’re not a really young man, Wrath, and you seem like a man of the world, so I believe I can safely assume he didn’t simply insult your wife. You would have been prepared for that. I think he said something about your wife that you didn’t expect, something that you somehow knew wasn’t a lie. Is she unfaithful?”

“Naomi is not unfaithful,” I said, but my lip quivered. My emotions burned within me, though my fury wasn’t at Jacqueline or Naomi. It wasn’t even at Thompson. It was anger at my own weakness. I should have expected what would happen. I should have known what my own actions would cause, but consequences hide in the shadows, until like an army they pour forth unrelenting. What could be more maddening than to be the cause of one’s own pain and misfortune? Is there any other cause, in the end?

“Naomi wants a separation,” I said at last, my rage outwardly diminished as it turned its searing red-hot face inward. The fire had raged through the memory Jacqueline was probing, and now there was just the charred, twisted ruin it had left behind. My only anger left for Jacqueline was that she had succeeded in doing her job, when I had determined she would never do so. “I only wish it had come from her mouth, not some stranger’s.”

“How did Thompson find out before you did?”

“His wife is Naomi’s friend.”

“So you know it’s true,” she mused. “Why do you think she would want to separate?”

Again I was silent.

“Is it because of your abilities? Does she feel unsafe?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask her?” I threw myself back against the chair, sighing.

“Have you?” Jacqueline pressed. “Look, Wrath, marriage counseling really isn’t my specialty, but it could be that your powers are putting a strain on your relationship. If you already have a lot of anger, and you were gone a lot as a result of your career choice, Naomi might be afraid of having you in the house so consistently. Do you have children?”

“Yeah, two girls and a boy.”

“Well, maybe she’s afraid for them. Does she trust you?”

I frowned but again I was silent.

“Maybe you think your silence is a block, but you’re telling me more with your silence than with some of your replies,” Jacqueline smiled, then leaned forward. “Everybody has problems, just like you said, but some problems are very rare and particular. By your silence I can tell Naomi knows about your powers, and that she has some doubt as to whether you can be trusted to control yourself. It’s a legitimate concern, even if it’s untrue.”

“I would never hurt her or the kids,” I assured her.

“It may take more than simple words to assure her. And it may take time. If you want my advice, I’d try to stay out of the house during the day, and gradually increase the amount of time you spend at home, until you can find other work. That way Naomi won’t be worried constantly, and she can see in the time that you are home that you’re keeping a lid on those abilities, and your temper. I’m sure that the fact you burned her friend’s husband hasn’t improved matters, and now is the most critical time for you to prove to her that you’re on her side. Do you love her?”

“Of course I do.”

“Do you really love her, Wrath?” she annoyed me by asking again.

“What do you want me to say?” I retorted. “I care about her, I think she’s beautiful, and smart…”

“But are you willing to put her first?”

“Are you starting to get all preachy again? I don’t need a homily about how to be a good husband. I just need to be done with this session so I can get on with my life. I’ve got to find a job. Can we call this done?”

“We were supposed to go to the end of the hour,” she glanced at the clock, “but in your case I’ll let you out early, as a gesture of goodwill and because my next appointment can always use a little more time. And don’t worry, your secret is safe, but I would ask you to consider talking to someone who is a bit of an expert on your seemingly unique situation. There could be a very good reason why you have this gift.”

“I’ll pass,” I replied, rising.

“Well,” she stood also, “if you change your mind, you can always let me know during one of our sessions.”

“Who says I’ll be back?”

“I don’t think you want your benefits to forfeit,” Jacqueline extended a hand. “It’s been a pleasure to meet and get to know you, Wrath. I hope that I can help you help yourself. You might as well try to make the most of this, and someday you may be glad you came.”

I didn’t want to argue about it, so I shook her hand and left, striding out the door and into the lobby. It was an unnerving experience, on top of everything else that was going on, and I rammed my arm very hard on the door jamb. I knew it would be a bruise, though I shook it off as I had countless other and far worse wounds. The lobby was just as plush and lovely and artsy as everything else in Jacqueline’s office, and therefore felt as if it was going to give me a rash. I nodded to the receptionist who frowned at me as I passed by, and started to ask if I was ok, but I waved her off. There was a row of white, odd wicker chairs that were apparently unpleasant at least to the lone person waiting. I paused momentarily as I saw her, because she just seemed strange to me.

She was tallish, blonde, and very, very unhappy. I remember being surprised because she looked even unhappier than I was. I thought to myself, Wow, I can’t think of what must be going on with her, but somehow, it’s worse than what I’m going through. She was young, or at least she seemed young. Her age was very hard to read. Ultimately, her skin, her eyes, her lips, they were all youthful, but there was something dark in her pale complexion, something aged, or rather, something weathered. She was standing up, but didn’t seem tired, and she was very stoic, even painfully impassive, as if the expression she wore would have remained unchanged if the whole world had burst into flames before her eyes. Though a woman of no more than twenty, she had the callous of a hardened veteran. She took me so off guard that I did something I almost never do: I spoke to her cold turkey. I hadn’t done that since I met Naomi, but it was for a much different reason.

“Here to see Dr. Leong?” I asked, frowning because I wasn’t sure what I was doing.

The incredibly strange young woman looked at me as if she was surprised, and that her being surprised was a really big deal. She never said anything to that effect but the look on her face was an entire unpleasant, unspoken monologue. I was actually intrigued more than putt off.

“Yes,” she said, and like the rest of her, the voice had the tone of a young woman and the inflection and manner of a grisly old man.

“Well,” I gave her what was meant to be a calm look, “good luck with her. Hope she does you more good than me.”

“I’ve been seeing her for two years,” she volunteered, surprising me, but she seemed nearly as intrigued by me as I was by her, which I also found surprising. “Dr. Leong is a good therapist, but she would be far more likely to be of use to you than to me.”

“I don’t know about that,” I chuckled. “I have unique problems.”

“So do I,” her eyes narrowed, and the faintest hint of a smile drifted across her face. “I’d love to trade stories but I think it’s my session now.”

“Technically it’s still mine,” I said cheekily, “but since you’re here so early, I’ll surrender it to you…”

“You can call me Mercy,” she said. She spoke so firmly, with perfect intonation, as if she were foreign, yet she had no discernible accent.

“Wrath,” I replied.

“Really?” she frowned. “Wrath… that’s very interesting.”

“How so?”

“I’ve known another man by that name.”

“For real?” I was stunned. “I was pretty sure my parents were the only ones that evil.”

“Yet you still go by it,” she countered, then continued, “Somehow I think we’ll be meeting again, and I have good feelings about such things. Beware if you ever come across a man named Percy, and you will come across such a man.”

“How do you know?” I asked

She put a hand gently on my arm and said, “Mr. Percy has a way of finding people like us. Good morning.”

“People like us?”

She released me and walked away, but added, “People with odd names.”

I watched her go into Dr. Leong’s office, then turned back and boarded the elevator. My mind started going through what I had to do next that day, and as I descended I realized that Jacqueline was probably right. If Naomi and I were going to work this out I had to be very careful. I knew she didn’t quite trust me, and I would have to take it slow. Maybe with a little luck or a little grace I could turn it around. God had never done me any good in the past, but at this point I was desperate.

“I need a miracle, God,” I muttered, then frowned. My arm wasn’t hurting anymore. I rolled up my sleeve, but it wasn’t so much as red, let alone bruised. It was the same arm Mercy had touched.