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LOVE CHASE I grumbled all week having to chew on this cliffhanger. Mr. Shaw had me spell bound. I figured he wanted me to personally realize this fact by leaving me in mid-air. Over that week I cursed him a million times as I drifted away from conversations and details of life into fantasies of how Tanu would fare against Tammer's men. I hoped then began to believe our sixth session would perhaps be the end of his tale. What if it were? What if Tanu got slaughtered? Then the tale would come to its end. I surely thought Tanu was Mr. Shaw's alter ego. If Tanu had to die, his life ended, Mr. Shaw would finish his tale allowing me to dig. To do my jobfinally! I would also have in my hands the perfect picture of a man denied of his sexual role. With the proper questioning I could easily determine in which direction that frustration veered. The rapist stood out as a possibility for he presented himself as a confident and aggressive individual. On the other hand, his hiding in stories smacked of childishness. All in all, things were looking up. I was about to hear how Tanu fared, and maybe get a chance at playing doctor. This frustration kept me spellbound to his tales. Yes, they were charming but not the stuff of best sellers. What enchanted me had to be the challenge to decipher the real meaning to his yawn. This man tried very hard to tell me something. His lack of straightforward conversation frustrated me daily. Somehow this frustrationI did not know howwashed over into my day-to-day life affecting everything I did, especially my relationship with Dennie. The fact is, even had the tale been a simple nursery rhyme, I would have been compelled to hang on every word. I tried desperately to solve who the characters were. As often as I made up my mind that Shaw was no other than Tanu, I would guess again. He introduced many different people. One particular evening, while I mused over Dennie painting a rocky landscape, I pictured Mr. Shaw as a painter of words. Central to her painting a lily adorned a crusty old boulder. The lily itself posed in a vase to the right of her canvas. I made comment of how perfectly she recreated the lily on the stone. From a crouching position up near the canvas she stopped working the paintbrush and glanced over at me. Dennie appeared taken by my show of rare encouragement. She sat back upon a stool. She chuckled in such a picture perfect manneran infectious smile, her one-piece housedress riding up her bare legs and tossing an apron along that splashed of discarded paint colors. Thats sweet of you, she purred. Dont think I ever heard you comment on my painting before its done … hanging in a frame … been on the wall for years … and you curse it because its taking up closet space. Thats not fair, I whined. Stepping over to the lily, I withdrew it from the vase. Has some weight to it, doesnt it? Actually, I marveled at the flower. Maybe for the first time in my life a flower, some ordinary plant rested within my grip human-like, child-like, with substance: Its lanceolate leaves that wafted from a solid dark green stem, the chalky white of the six flower petals, the deep capsule with long, tall yellow stamen. The inflorescence of the flowers head demanded attention. All this, but especially the weight and presence impressed me. Denise studied my reaction wholly amused by my reaction. Seen flowers before. I fell under a spell cast by this simple Easter lily. Pictures and casual glances do it no justice at all! Dennie pitched her stool back a few inches and instructed me to compare the real thing to that of the flower on top of harsh stone in a pile of rock in a sandy landscape. I had it right, Denise, as good an artist as she is did the lily no justice. Especially while I stood there caressing the real thing. Knowing how sensitive talented people can be, catching myself; I simply remarked that she caught the flowers essence. Dennie laughed and her face brightened to have cornered me into a lie. Youre so silly, Bob. Really. Turning more serious, she began to pack away her art tools for the time being. That lily there in your hands is just for reference. In the painting it represents life. Its singularity in nature. Not wanting to look like a complete moron, I simply stated, I knew that. But we agreed long ago I was never to psychoanalyze you. She giggled like a schoolgirl. On the surface I saved some face. Returning the flower to its vase I did take a swipe at analysis. That painted flower is how you feel. It represents you in a world cold and harsh. Dennie baulked, Thats psychoanalysis! And thats not what the painting is saying. She mumbled, with a subtle touch of anger that the painting needed to be complete before anyone could interpret it anyway. I dont get it, Dennie. I came to her side as we looked upon the artwork. Life? Why because the flower is the only living thing in the painting? Denise pulled the flower from the vase and placed it back into my hands. Her hands embraced mine and she moved completely into my space like the lovers we are. You have it right, Bob. She drew the lily so that it joined our faces. Our lips rested on opposite petals. Thats me. Thats you. The flower is all life. Alone and without support other than its own resource; its own life. It only seems fragile and mortal. Nothing like everything that surrounds it. Still it is as enduring and as eternal. Call it what you will. Burn it. Kill it. Does not matter. Next season it is here again. Life amid all that looks to be chaos, and surely is, is eternal. Like my wifes effort, perhaps, Shaw was not directly involved with the landscape, merely the message. Tanu may have been a father figure. Sheba, so loving a personality, may have been a mother image. Perhaps Martin Shaw longed to possess his mother? Not an uncommon denominator among successful men. He could have been going through life turning his attention toward obtaining such a goal. Naturally, like all those with an Oedipus complex, he sort out his mother in other ways. The case grew so frustrating, indeed. Without a direct confrontation with my patient, I would never fathom his problem! However, to keep my own sanity, I pinned Shaw with Tanu's ego. It stood as the central character that, in all patients, is the alter ego. To keep in character, Mr. Shaw both teased me by putting off his tale for a while and by also astounding me. For the very first time he literally tipped his hand to me. I did not know how to handle it then and wonder now if, knowing how this all turned out, I could do any better a second time around. He started right up asking, "Does my story do anything for you, Doctor? Does it ring any bells?" Certainly I had no desire to reveal my inner frustration to him. I remained a professional, attempting to hold a firm charge over the patient-doctor relationship. "I fail to see the meaning of such a question," I replied. "But I do want to hear about Tanu's fight. You left me hanging. On purpose, I dare guess." "That's true, he smiled back. "But nothing unusual has crossed your mind? Nothing odd happening in your life?" Like a man peering at an optical illusion, I studied him for a moment. Dennie's dream flew past my mind but I disregarded it. One thing had nothing to do with the other. "If you mean, has the problem you are trying to express come through to me, I must say, not in total. I do believe you are truly reaching out for help." He did not appear disappointed yet slightly glanced at me as if I were lying or hiding something. I concluded the train of thought by saying, "I think when you finish, we will be better able to review and express what your trouble is." "We'll see," he replied then set directly into his next episode with Tanu in battle against both champions. I noted how he went straight away into the fight because his alter ego fought two obstacles in the symbolism of Tammer's champions. Tanu lacked the experience of his combatants. However, once injured, his animal instinct for slaughter, the hunter's endurance and thirst for blood, out matched that of the champions. Warriors hold guarded ground and advance while hunters stalk and rush. Then with powerfully skilled hands they strike their victim. The strong champions tried endlessly to the jeers and cries of those surrounded and trapped Tanu. Like a gazelle Tanu jumped constantly out of harm's way. Each time a sword swung in his direction, Tanu dove away with a slicing contact of his own blade. Onward they fought, all to the frustration of Tammer's guard. Tanu controlled the battle. He almost came to enjoy it. That was until the champions grew totally annoyed and furious over this simple hunter. Ripping off a piece of his armor, one of the champions threw it with all he had, striking Tanu at his brow. Tanu went down dropping his sword as the two rushed in for the kill. The two, cut and bloody, came down on their victim. Muscles tight, strands of blood decorating their bodies, swords held high, they moved swiftly to do away with Tanu. The man who threw the armor grabbed Tanu. Kicking away the hunter's sword, the naked champion held Tanu for the others fatal blow. Tanu squirmed, struggling to break free as the man in front of him stepped eye to eye with him. He stopped the hunter's struggle by placing his sword's sharp blade to his neck. Smiling into Tanu's frightened face, he sneered, I will now kill you, farmer. Then I will find your woman and have her. Tanu saw red. Effortlessly he broke free with just a scratch to his throat. Tumbling away from surprised combatants, Tanu turned and lunged back upon the men like a lion attacking a water buffalo. Filling the air with a gruesome cry and tearing at the two who scrambled from under his weight, Tanu's large left hand went for the man who wished to defile Sheba. In the fleeing moment that the champion stood confused with mouth gaping by Tanu's show of quick strength, Tanu's hand sailed deeply into the open jaw. The hunter growled while forcing his hand between the champion's jaws. There existed only a moment's struggle before Tanu closed tightly his fist into bone and sinew of the skull. As if ripping away the anger left over from Karut's visit to Sheba and Tanu's rage that swelled at his sweat-ridden temples, Tanu swiftly tore the warrior's skull right out of his flesh. The man fell dead instantly. In that same moment Tanu's right hand gripped then crushed the throat of his remaining adversary. Falling with the dead, Tanu pounded madly at the two corpses until Tubac and Phro pulled him off and to his senses. The contest ended. Tanu knelt in awe at his dreadful deed. This is what it is like to kill a man. No beast could ever do battle in such a fierce manner. Tanu thought back upon the angriest of animals. None, no matter how swift, no matter how sharp of claw or teeth, matched the single mindedness of man. Nor would any other creature pursue such a deadly endeavor. Tubac walked over to Tammer. The lord looked down amazed from his tall horse, The man fought like a god! "Your champions, at their best, could not overcome that sort of rage. Tubac turned to the others, Cheer him! He ordered. And they did. Tubac looked over at the exhausted hunter still on his knees and panting. Slowly the general came to the man's side. In his mind he saw not a hunter, not a champion, but an emperor. This hunter was no mere man. He could be a god! Such a man, if guided through the ranks of military might, could rise to a throne. Such a man could be employed by Tubac to unseat the young Tammer. Spreading his arms over Tanu's blood stained body, he exclaimed, Tanu, you are now and until your death first guard to our Lord Tammer, master of all warriors! He motioned to Phro to approach him. Bring Tanu before his people, old man. Tell them of his noble deeds and tell them to praise him. Then, with the rising sun, Tanu, come into the camp of your lord to begin your service to him. Tanu, mouth dry and body shaken, forced one question from his swollen lips, Sheba? Tubac squinted, What does he mumble, old man? "His woman. May she attend him in your army? Tubac discarded the question at first. The general mounted his horse while Tammer and his generals began to ride away. Tubac looked back, Nonsense! We are warriors,: he spat out the words, reared his horse and rode with his lord. Mr. Shaw sat silent. I took advantage of the pause to digest the session's tale. Noted down that whatever these two obstacles were, they fell like dust behind Mr. Shaw. I felt an excitation over the fight yet tried to figure out how Tanu would get Sheba to come along, or if Tanu would even go along with Lord Tammer. If Tanu were to go off, leaving Sheba behind this would tell me much also. Whoever his love or whatever his goal it had, at some point, been totally unattainable to Shaw. And what if the lovers did not part? If not, I surmised he would not have been sitting in front of me. Mr. Shaw did not appear anything but distressed. His somber mood exposed the outcome. They did part! I smiled inwardly because, at last, he became predictable. Now I could truly begin to treat my patient correctly. Given a proper effort on my part, sincere concern and thoughtfulness, I would, in time, unravel him. After a long while I looked to Mr. Shaw. He sat gripped within a bundle of emotions. Perhaps I sensed a great, brewing anger. Maybe it was frustration? I could not easily detect the feelings. His eyes glazed over with a far away look. Tightly he held his lips closed until they formed just a thin line above his chin. My mind tackled with emotions of my own in order to relate with his. I wondered what he felt. "Want to go on, Martin?" I asked. He snapped back to reality. Looking directly at me he just said "Sheba did not attend her husband. They parted for a long time. Too long a time, Doctor. Too long." |