The Minotauress

Dean solemnly nodded.

'You're whacked, brother. I don't care how good-looking Daphne is, this Arianne chick is hotter, and she didn't jerk you around. Daphne treats you like a bad dog.'

At that moment, the phone rang.

'Aren't you going to answer it?' Ajax asked.

'Hell no. It's her.'

The phone rang a few more times, then the answering machine kicked on. 'It's me,' Daphne said. 'Just thought you might want to know that I got to Vegas safely. Obviously you're not home, probably out drinking with that dingleberry Ajax. Honestly, Dean, can't you cultivate some friends who aren't useless detriments to society? And make sure that goddamn house is clean when I get back, or there'll be hell to pay.'

click

Dean and Ajax traded glances.

'Sorry,' Dean said.

'I'm delighted to be so highly thought of by the lady of the house.'

'Don't feel bad. She hates anybody I know.'

Ajax finished his beer, set in on the dresser. 'Look, I don't care if your wife thinks I'm a dingleberry and a useless detriment to society. My question is how can you let her treat you like that?'

Dean silently shook his head.

'That's love? That's respect?'

'No,' Dean admitted.

'You gotta listen to shit like that till death do you part?'

'It's fucked up.'

'So why the hell did you get married?'

Dean sat limp on the bed. 'My old life... It just seemed wrong. That's why I cut bait and moved here. I felt I needed to change.'

Ajax sighed. 'Dean, seasons change, tides change, baseball lineups change, but people don't change. I am who I am, and you are who you are. It's not change you're talking about, it's adaptation. You're trying to adapt to Daphne's way of life because you think that's the right thing to do. You've got this idea in your head that the way you used to be was bad.'

'It was bad,' Dean countered. 'Fighting in bars every night, hot-rodding, drinking enough beer and whiskey to fill Lake Union, and abusing the only woman who every really loved me? That's not the way it's supposed to be. I needed to change.'

'No,' Ajax said, 'you needed to modify some aspects of your life. There's a difference.' When Dean wasn't looking, Ajax slipped one of the polaroids into his pants. What the fuck? he thought. Then he continued, 'You left your home and got married for all the wrong reasons.'

'Yeah,' Dean agreed. 'I know.'

'And there's a bigger problem right now,' Ajax added.

'What's that?'

'This is a textbook gradual degradation of your every day persona.' Even Ajax was astonished. 'Non-REM Imagery Syndrome is one thing, but I hate to say it, buddy. You're displaying some far worse symptoms.'

'Symptoms of what?'

'Full-scale multiple-personality disorder.'

'That's a crock of shit,' Dean sluffed.

'Is it? A couple of hours ago, you were making every excuse in the book for Daphne. Any time I've ever suggested that she's a lousy wife and treats you like shit, you cover for her, you deny it, you blame yourself for what's not right about the marriage. But now it's the absolute polar opposite. You tell me you're sick of fucking her, you tell me she's a ‘bossy prissy bitch' and a ‘snitty hosebag.' You're talking like you hate her.'

'I don't hate her,' Dean elucidated. 'I'm just so goddamn sick of her that I could bend over and throw up all over the carpet I have to vacuum every day.'

By now, Ajax almost wished he hadn't dropped out of his psych major. 'You're two different people, Dean. You're Good Dean and Bad Dean. Good Dean is the subservient pussy-whipped butt-kissing wimp I've known since we first met. But tonight Bad Dean has finally stuck his head out of the sand, chewing tobacco and bad-mouthing his wife. And what's the catalyst? Me asking you details of your past. You're longing for your past, and your inability to retrieve it is what's causing these manifestations.'

Good Dean, Bad Dean... Dean thought about this and felt flustered as a result. 'But I hate my past. I was disgusted with it.'

'That may be what you consciously believe, but we're talking about the subconscious, and that's a different animal. It's what we were talking about yesterday: strictures. Social strictures, environmental strictures, strictures based on experience, and then all the potential counter-strictures too.' Ajax seemed intent, urgently focused, which was unusual for him. Evidently, some of his past was coming back too: the collegiate interests that he'd later dumped to become a slovenly envelope-stuffer. 'We're talking about Freudian denial mechanisms, unsystematized causal demand characteristics, and full-blown personality transposition.'

Dean looked askance, irritated. 'I don't want to hear a bunch of high-brow California psycho-babble.' Then he spat a stream of tobacco juice on the plush beige carpet. 'I just want to know why I'm so fucked up all of a sudden.'

Shocked, Ajax looked at the indelible stain on the carpet. 'That's what I'm trying to tell you!'

'Fine. What's the bottom line?'