Thursday, 2 October 2003
‘Fuck it, that was over nine years ago. It’s all history now.’
Ezra sat back in his chair and studied me with one of those serious yet deeply understanding looks they probably teach at shrink school.
I shifted slightly in my own chair and the leather squeaked. I let my gaze wander along the wood-panelled walls, past the pictures and framed certificates. Ezra would probably say this was me looking for a way out, but I knew there wouldn’t be one for another twenty minutes at least. I ended up staring through the window at the Arlington Memorial Bridge, fifteen floors down and a couple of blocks away.
‘Was that the first time you felt betrayed?’
I looked at him across the low coffee-table. There was nothing on it but a box of tissues. In case I ever wanted to burst out crying, I supposed.
Ezra was maybe seventy, seventy-five, something like that. His hair was like a steel-grey helmet, and although the rest of his face had aged, his eyes sparkled as much as they probably had when he was thirty and knocking women shrinks senseless at conferences in Vienna. For all I knew he still was.
Why was he still working? Why hadn’t he retired? I’d wanted to ask him that ever since I started with him nine months ago, but these sessions were strictly about me. He’d never tell me anything about himself. All I knew about him was that he was the one who got lumbered with the fruits who worked for George and needed sorting out.
He raised an eyebrow to prompt my answer. I was well used to his repertoire of body signals by now.
‘Betrayed? No. Shit happens. It was more a turning point in how I thought about them. So many deaths, so many of them kids. Especially Zina. It’s just, well . . .’ I paused and looked back out towards the bridge. ‘It doesn’t matter now, does it?’
He didn’t believe me and I heard myself filling the silence. ‘Three hours I waited there. All that time, calling on the net, trying to find out what the fuck was happening. Meanwhile, Mladic filled his face, had his afters and left. And all that time his boys were upstairs with the girls. When I finally got back to Sarajevo I didn’t even get told why the job was cancelled. Just to wind my neck in and hang around the hotel for the next one. Which never happened.’
Ezra just sat and waited.
‘Who knows? Maybe if Zina had held on and not done a runner she’d still be alive. Maybe if I’d called in the Paveway earlier she would have lived, or I would have put her and the others out of their misery. Fuck it – who cares? It’s all in the past.’
Ezra tilted his head a little to one side. Even through the double-glazing I could hear an aircraft coming out of Ronald Reagan airport just the other side of the Potomac. I watched it lift into the sky, probably rattling the windows of my apartment block as it went.
‘Then why talk about it so much these last few weeks, Nick? Why does it always come back to Bosnia?’
I didn’t have an answer, and I knew by now that he wouldn’t fill the silence himself. If it took the whole fifty minutes, he’d wait.
In the end I just shrugged. ‘You brought it up.’
‘No, Nick, I think you’ll find that you did. But we always get to a certain point and then we stop. Why do you think that happens? It certainly feels to me that there’s a lot more in there you want to let out. Could it be that your psyche is protecting you? Preventing you letting everything you feel come out?’
I hated it when he played the subconscious card. ‘Listen, I don’t know too much about the psyche shit, but I’ll tell you this: I’ve been thinking about topping myself.’
‘Because of Kelly?’
‘Because it’s hard to think of reasons why I shouldn’t.’
‘You know it wasn’t your fault. You know there was nothing you could have done to save her. So why would you do that?’
‘I might as well. She’s gone. What the fuck’s left? Therapy with you twice a week for the next ten years? You might not last that long.’
I rubbed my fingers into my hair and smelt them. I was waiting for him to ask why I thought I did that. He normally did. Even though I bet he knew the answer.
He brought his right hand up to his face and stroked his chin. ‘You know, Nick, if you really thought that way, you would have done it by now. I prescribed you enough drugs to open your own pharmacy.’ He pointed at the window. ‘You could try running away if you wanted to, just like Zina did. But the fact is, you continue to come here to carry on with our therapeutic relationship.’
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. ‘I keep telling you, I’m not here for any sort of relationship. I’m here because George sent me. The whole thing is bollocks.’
It was like water off a duck’s back to him. ‘Why is it bollocks, Nick? It was you who thought therapy might help you cope with Kelly’s death. Isn’t that what all this is about – helping you overcome the trauma of losing her?’
‘No, I’m here because George sent me. And everything I’ve said will be reported back to him, won’t it? Maybe he’s listening right now – what the fuck do I know?’
‘Nick, you know that isn’t true. How are we going to move forward if there isn’t complete trust between us? You have nothing to fear. I understand the pressures you’re under. I understand the sort of work you’ve been involved with. It’s natural in your business that you would keep everything battened down inside. I’ve been doing this for people just like you since Vietnam, trying to help them overcome those feelings. But we’re going nowhere unless we have complete trust.’ He sat back slowly, giving me time to let it all sink in. The index finger went back to his chin. ‘George understands the pressures and constraints you’re under. He wants you back, fit and able to work.’
We were going round in circles. We must have had this conversation at least a dozen times. ‘But being here won’t help that, will it? I feel I’m trapped in some kind of
‘But you must still have some notion that you want to be helped. You’ve talked about having feelings of loneliness . . .’
‘I didn’t ask for help, I only agreed to it because I didn’t know what the fuck else to do. I now realize I should have shut up and got on with my job. People all over the planet have their kids dying on them every day and they still go to work, they still get on with their lives. I should have said nothing and got on with it.’
Ezra leaned forward. ‘But Kelly didn’t just die, did she, Nick? She was killed – and, what’s more, you were there. It does make a difference.’
‘Why? Why does everything have to have a label? You can’t be shy any more, you have to have social phobia. Try hard to succeed and you’ve got a perfectionist complex. Why can’t I just get on with life and go back to work? What are you going to say now, that I’m in denial?’
He studied me again in that way of his that always got me pissed off. ‘Do you think you’re in denial, Nick?’
‘Look, I know I’m fucked up a bit, but what do you expect? Who isn’t? Can’t you be happy with that diagnosis – “fucked up a bit”? You’ve got to be a bit Dagenham to do the job anyway.’
He raised an eyebrow. They must learn that at shrink school too. ‘Dagenham?’
I nodded. ‘Two stops short of Barking.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘London joke. On the London Underground, Dagenham is two stations away from Barking. Barking? Barking mad. Dagenham, two stops short of Barking.’
He sort of got it but decided it was time to close that particular chapter. ‘So, did you see Bang Bang yet?’
‘Yeah. I’m not sure it helped. I didn’t become a gibbering wreck or come out crying, if that’s what you’re asking.’
