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Z: Can I lie down on the couch?

D: If you want to.

Z: Thanks. It’s just that I’ve always had this image of therapy of being interrogated by a cop in a dingy room with the light right in my face, you know? Nothing comfortable.

D: Why would you think that?

Z: I’m not sure. The norm is this comfy couch thing, right? At least the way the media teaches us. I guess I’m just not a good student.

D: You are smirking.

Z: Yes?

D: You are making fun of this.

Z: No, not really. I mean, yes, I was, but I also want this. To do this. Therapy. Just to talk.

D: You could talk to your family or friends.

Z: Yeah, and they don’t charge consultation fees, hah! Sorry. That’s why I’m here, right? ‘Cos I can’t talk to them.

D: You can’t talk to them.

Z: No. Hey, I like this couch. Is it yours? Where did you get it? Not IKEA?

D: It came with the office, I am renting.

Z: Sweet. Must be expensive, though. The rent, I mean. Still, it’s a nice couch.

D: It is a nice couch.

Z: It is, isn’t it? That’s what I’m saying. I want a couch like this, in my room. Only, there wouldn’t be any space for it. Not with the king-size bed and the desk and all the bookcases. I need a larger bedroom.

D: Wouldn’t it be easier to get rid of some things in your room? Or perhaps get a smaller bed?

Z: I don’t know, probably. I always seem to end up in small rooms with big beds or big rooms with small beds. It’s crazy.

D: Is it?

Z: Oh, wait, you’re gonna tell me that I have this sort of imbalance in my life now, right? That I go for extremes? I know that already.

D: Why would you say this?

Z: What, the extremes thing? I suppose it’s always been there. I’ve always told people not to expect me to be moderate, to be balanced. I always do things in the extremes, good or bad… nothing in the middle. Which is funny.

D: Funny?

Z: Yeah, cos I believe in Buddhism, you know? Not all the dogma and tradition necessarily, but the bare principles, the things that count. And you’re supposed to follow this Middle Path shit, and I actually believe in that, I do, but believing is one thing, and acting is another…

D: You seem to have thought this out.

Z: Doesn’t matter, does it? ‘Cos I never do anything. I never do anything, or when I do, I just screw things up.

D: How do you screw things up?

Z: I don’t know, I just do. Look, I have two university degrees, graduated at the top of my class, got myself into this big multinational corporation, and I still feel like I’ve done everything wrong. I still feel like a failure. I worry that my parents think that I’ll be a failure to them. I’m pretty sure they think that already.

D: Are you?

Z: What?

D: A failure to them?

Z: Probably. I think in every parent’s eyes, their child will always be a failure.

D: I thought that was “in every parent’s eyes, their child will always be a success”.

Z: No, that’s the sanitised-fairytale version. Mine’s the real, Little-Red-Riding-Hood-gets-naked-with-the-Big-Bad-Wolf version.

D: “Little-Red-Riding-Hood-gets-naked-with-the-Big-Bad-Wolf”?

Z: Yeah, that’s how the stories went, before those Grimm twins came and cleaned them up. Little Red, and Snow White, that’s another one that got fucked up. She didn’t get woken up by a kiss from Prince Charming, no, he raped her and left her there till she gave birth, and it was the baby suckling on her tit that did it. Little Red and Snow White. That sounds like some lesbian porn, doesn’t it?

D: They weren’t twins.

Z: Who, Little Red and Snow White?

D: No, the Grimms, they were only brothers. Normal brothers.

Z: Normal brothers?

D: Ordinary, I mean ordinary. Ordinary brothers.

Z: I wish I had a brother.

D: You’re an only child?

Z: Why does everyone say that? Do I have a neon sign above my head announcing my spoilt, only-child status? Sheesh. No, I have an older sister. Much older. A normal sister, married with three kids. Lovely brats.

D: But you wish you had a brother.

Z: An older brother. Someone to look up to, someone to fuck things up once before I did so it wouldn’t matter that I screwed up. Someone who wouldn’t take shit from me. Ah, who cares? Fact: I don’t have a brother, period.

D: Do you really think having a older brother would solve any of your problems?

Z: What? No, who knows? Probably not. He’d just beat the crap out of me, that’s all, and I wouldn’t have gotten all the cool stuff I wanted as a kid. I suppose it would’ve been hell, if I had an older brother. No, this is the best, the way things turned out. Everyone thinking I’m the spoilt, only child. Ah, the burden I bear.

D: The burden that you bear.

Z: Christ, I’m making myself sound like a martyr, aren’t I? I swore before I came here I wouldn’t whine, and now look what I’ve done. Whine, whine, whine.

D: It’s alright.

Z: Sure it is. You know what we should do?

D: What?

Z: Get out of this office. We should go and find us a park or something. Get hotdogs, throw a frisbee. Shit like that.

D: You are aware this is a therapy session, and, let me see, we are only halfway through?

Z: So? We’ll continue talking there. After all, this is just talking, right?

D: Hmm.

Z: It is. And you’ll get some exercise and fresh air. Jesus, I’m the patient here and I’m offering you the health benefits.

D: No.

Z: No?

D: No, you are not my patient. I find that too clinical. I prefer the term ‘client’.

Z: That’s even more clinical.

D: Perhaps. Subway or taxi?

Z: What?

D: Modes of transportation. Means of reaching a park or something.

Z: Heh. Right. No, I think we’re gonna walk.

D: Walk? Alright. Let’s get our coats.

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Current Mood: Chirpy.
Current Music:

• Squirrel Nut Zippers – Put A Lid On It
• Combustible Edison – Breakfast At Denny’s
• The Police – King Of Pain

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Credit: Photograph by Piotr Lewandowski.