Forbidden Passions

Session #2: Gilbert

      The two men sat there in the room, looking at one another. This standoff of silence happened more often than Dr. Jefferson liked to admit, but it was something he had to put up with whenever speaking to this particular patient. Jefferson sat in his chair with his legs folded with a notepad resting on his lap all while fiddling with his pen. He sometimes tapped his lip with the pen, other times hitting his knees as if he were performing a drum solo for an imaginary rock band. It was a hot day that afternoon, and the air conditioning unit was out, so there were a few fans circulating the air to keep both men cool. To also beat the heat, Jefferson had departed from his usual attire. Gone were the usual suit and tie, and the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, which was far more casual than he had preferred but sweating like he was in a sauna also wasn't a good look for him either. It had been months since Gilbert had this standoff with Jefferson, which was like a mental staring contest to see who would speak first. Such standoffs would come to an end usually in ten minutes, which was usually when the Jefferson's patience would begin to wear rather thin.

     "Gilbert," Jefferson started, picking up the note pad from his lap as he knew there would be something to notate very soon.

     "I keep telling you," Gilbert said, sighing. "I prefer to be called Gil."

     "And I keep telling you," Jefferson countered, "I prefer to start our session on time rather than ten minutes after the fact."

     "What do you care?" Gil asked.

     "That's a good question, Gil." Jefferson answered, "Regardless of how much time you spend here, I'm still going to charge you for the full hour. The only thing your uprising is having an effect on is your own wallet. One could argue this is your hour, so you can start it anytime you like, but it's still going to end the same time every week."

     "Duly noted," Gil said, finally taking a seat.

     There were two very relaxing chairs in the middle of the room. Jefferson sat in one that was closest to his desk, while the guest was encouraged to take the other. There was also a couch on the other side of the room, which Gil had assumed was for couples or when a patient brought someone else to sit in. In total there was enough room for three people plus the doc, which many people assumed was the most people Jefferson would want to handle at the same time. Anything more and that would be considered group therapy.

     "What are you thinking about, Gil?" Jefferson asked, again trying to break the silence.

     "Whether or not jumping out your window is high enough to kill myself." Gil said, with a rather shitty tone. "I'm sorry, was that too soon?"

     Jefferson sat there for a moment and took a deep breath. "Some could argue that your depraved attempt at humor was an unconscious cry for help, but I know you well enough to recognize that you're just trying to yank my chain. It won't work."

     "I didn't think it would," Gil said, sighing himself. "Sorry about that. She was a good gal. I really felt bad when I read about her in the paper."

     "Thank you," Jefferson said, not taking the gift horse in the mouth. It was the first sincere thing Gil had said since he arrived, so it was best to take it and run. "Yet we need to talk about you, Gil. How have you been doing?"

     "Me?" Gil asked, thinking about it. "I've been okay, nothing special."

     "Same old, same old?" Jefferson added, continuing to grind.

     "Pretty much," Gil said, scratching his chin. "I get it; I should go out and do something different. Stop watching television and do something different."