revelation. And, Tony, I never really answered your question about
вЂ?why now.` Let me go back to that.» Julius took time to gather his
thoughts, keenly aware that his self–revelation, or that of any
therapist, always had double implications: first, whatever he got
out of it for himself and, second, the modeling that it set for the
group.
«I can tell you that I was not about to be deterred from
revealing what I did. I mean, almost everyone here tried to stop
me, but I felt bullheaded, absolutely determined to continue. This
is very unusual for me and I`m not sure I understand it fully, but
there`s something important there. You inquired, Tony, whether I
was asking for help with it—or maybe asking for forgiveness. No,
that wasn`t it; long ago I forgave myself after spending years
working on it with my friends and with a therapist. One thing I can
tell you for sure: in the past, I mean before my melanoma, I would
never, not in a thousand years, have said what I said in the group
today.
«Before my melanoma,” Julius continued. «That`s the key.
We`ve all got a death sentence—I know you all pay me well for
such cheery pronouncements—but the experience of having it
certified, stamped, and even dated has sure caught my attention.
My melanoma is giving me a strange sense of release that`s got a
lot to do with my revealing myself today. Maybe that`s why I`ve
been yearning for a co–therapist—someone objective who can
make sure that I continue acting in your best interests.»
Julius stopped. Then, he added, «I noted that none of you
responded earlier when I commented on how you were taking care
of me today.»
After a few more moments of silence, Julius added, «And
you`re still not.You see, this is why I miss having a co–therapist
here. I`ve always believed that if there`s something big that`s not
being talked about, then nothing else that`s important can be
worked on either. My job is to remove obstacles; the last thing I
want is tobe an obstacle. Now, it`s hard for me to get outside
myself, but I feel you`re avoiding me, or let me put it this way,
avoidingmy mortal illness. ”
Bonnie said, «Iwant to discuss what`s happening to you; but
I don`t want to cause you pain.»
Others agreed.
«Yep, now you`ve put your finger right on it. Now listen
hard to what I`m going to say: there`s only one way you can hurt
me—and that is to cut yourself off from me. It`s hard to talk to
someone with a life–threatening illness—I know that. People have
a tendency to tread gently; they don`t know the right thing to say.»
«That`s right–on for me,” said Tony. «I don`t know what to
say. But I`m going to try to stay with you.»
«I sense that, Tony.»
«Isn`t it so,” said Philip, «that people fear contact with the
afflicted because they wish not to be confronted with the death that
awaits each of them?»
Julius nodded. «That sounds important, Philip. Let`s
examine it here.» If anyone but Philip had said this, Julius would
have been sure to ask whether they were expressing their own
feelings. However, at this stage, he wanted only to support Philip`s
appropriateness. He scanned the group, awaiting a response.
«Maybe,” said Bonnie, «there`s something to what Philip
said because I`ve had a couple of recent nightmares of something
trying to kill me, and then there was that nightmare I described—
trying to catch that train which was falling apart.»
«I know that under the surface I`m more fearful than usual,”
said Stuart. «One of my tennis chums is a dermatologist, and twice
now in the last month I`ve asked him to check out one of my skin
lesions. Melanoma is on my mind.»
«Julius,” said Pam, «you`ve been on my mind ever since you
told me about your melanoma. There is something to what I`m
being told about my being tough on men, but you`re the main
exception—you are the dearest man I`ve ever known. And yes, Ido
feel protective of you. I felt it when Philip put you on the spot. I
thought—and still think—it was callous and insensitive of him.
And the question of whether I`m more conscious of my own
death—well, that may be there, but I`m not aware of it. Ican tell
you that I`m on the lookout for consolatory things I might say to
you. Last night I read something interesting, a passage in
Nabokov`s memoir,Speak, Memory, which described life as a
spark between two identical pools of darkness, the darkness before
we were born and the darkness after we die. And how odd it is that
we have so much concern about the latter and so little about the
former. I somehow found this enormously reassuring and
immediately tagged it to give to you.»
«That`s a gift, Pam. Thank you. That`s an extraordinary
thought. And itis a reassuring thought, though I`m not quite sure
why. I`m more comfortable with that first pool, before birth—it
seems friend–lier—perhaps I imbue it with promise, the potential
of things to come.»
«That thought,” said Philip, «was also reassuring to
Schopenhauer, from whom, incidentally, Nabokov undoubtedly
lifted it. Schopenhauer said that after death we will be what we
were before our birth and then proceeded to prove the impossibility
of there being more than one kind of nothingness.»
Julius never had a chance to reply. Pam glared at Philip and
barked a response: «Right here we have a perfect illustration of
why your desire to be a counselor is a monstrous joke. We`re in the
midst of tender feelings, and what matters most, whatonly matters
to you, is accuracy of attribution. You think Schopenhauer once
said something vaguely similar. Big fucking deal!»
Philip closed his eyes and began reciting: «вЂ?A man finds
himself, to his great astonishment, suddenly existing after
thousands and thousands of years of non–existence; he lives for a
little while; and then, again, comes an equally long period when he
