07: Learning to Dance Again

If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton,

you may as well make it dance.

George Bernard Shaw

“I’m glad you could slip me into your schedule,” Phil said, entering the office, “though I’m not sure my problems are covered by psychiatry.”

“They aren’t?” Melissa Taylor asked. “The field covers a lot of topics.”

“I was initially worried about a possible stroke and was seeing things, but the visions cleared. I still need to see a neurologist. My primary care doctor suspects a growth pressing on my optic nerve, but a pill won’t cure that.”

“We don’t ‘cure’ mental illnesses with pills. Instead, we incorporate medicine in our overall treatment plan. So you don’t think you have any issues worth exploring?”

“Nothing relating to psychiatry.”

“I’m open to discussing anything. My field covers anger management as well as other topics, though I wouldn’t be so quick to rule out psychiatric disorders. Uncontrollable thrashing may point to more severe medical problems, but delusions are more often my purview. If nothing else, we can discuss those injuries to your face and head.”

Phil frowned. “I take it you saw the video on the news?”

“I didn’t go looking for it, but when I read it the name rang a bell. I checked my records to ensure it was you. Your beard is hard to miss.”

He rubbed it with his hand. “I should have shaved it a while ago.”

“It wouldn’t have helped the events on the news.”

“Still, despite how it looks, I maintain there’s more than the video shows.”

“There always is,” Melissa reflected, leaning back. “Tell me about it.”

Melissa was a thirty-something black woman with fair skin, short hair and an expressive face. When she raised an eyebrow to mark a point, it was difficult not noticing.

“There’s nothing I can say in my defense, but there are ... extenuating circumstances.”

“Such as...” she pressed.

Phil glanced around the room, as if searching for something. “It’s not something I can explain. It’s easier to demonstrate. Words won’t do it justice.”

“So why don’t you provide a demonstration?”

“Everything about my case is confidential, right?”

“Of course, unless there’s a potential threat to someone.”

He sighed before standing. “You asked for it, but I have to ask one thing. Whatever you observe, don’t interact until you note the effects. What I do doesn’t threaten anyone, but it has a pronounced effect.”

With that, he turned and headed out of the office.

“Where are you going? Your session isn’t over.”

He stopped by the door, opening it and holding it open for her. “I’m providing a demonstration, but I need space and a few subjects.”

“Are you sure this is wise? If you do anything to threaten anyone, I’ll be forced to call the police.”

“You can make up your own mind, just don’t jump to conclusions until you see it play out.”

They walked into the waiting room, where several patients waited for the practices multiple psychiatrists.

“Pardon me,” Phil said, walking into the waiting room waving his cane to attract everyone’s attention. “Dr. Taylor wanted me to demonstrate my routine, but I can’t dance without a partner. You don’t need to do anything, just sit back and observe. It’s a little extravagant, but I believe it’s fairly expressive.”

He tapped his cane twice, demonstrating this was a rehearsed performance, and spun, extending it. It stopped inches from a woman’s face. She flinched, but he reversed, stepping forward and bringing it up beside a male patient, startling him. Again, the cane halted abruptly in mid-air.

“I’m not sure this is a terrific idea,” Melissa said, wringing her hands.

“Don’t worry; I’ll be done in a few moments.” He twirled, advancing on another patient. “You’ll notice my cane never comes close to anyone. I like surprising people, mostly for effect.” He swung it over someone’s head before turning towards someone else.

“As I’m doing this, consider how you’re feeling. Do my antics lighten your mood, make you feel better, or are you threatened by my actions?”

“Mr. Walker, you need to stop immediately,” Melissa said, her tone rising in pitch.

Phil paused, considering his audience. “Which of you is scheduled for Ms. Taylor?”

A couple hesitant hands rose. Focusing on them, he stepped forward, arching his cane by one woman’s face before twirling and bringing it down beside another patient’s head. He finished with a bow.

“Thank you for your kind attention,” he said. “I hope I didn’t inconvenience anyone.” He turned to Melissa. “If you’ll review everyone’s record, I suspect you’ll note a decrease in their symptoms. Each should be precisely twenty percent better than they were before, without the aid of medication.

“There’s no sense in my remaining just for you to make accusations. I’ll return in a few days. If no one’s condition improves, feel free to have me arrested then.”

He stopped, tipping his hat to the collected patients, and exited the building.

Entering his hotel lobby, someone stood and approached. It was Toni, his daughter.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. I called Taylor to warn him that some embarrassing news was coming, and he screamed at me. Seems your mother already told him what a crackpot I am.”

“She’s pretty upset,” she admitted. “Still, I’m not here on her account. I wanted to ensure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, aside from being ostracized by the entire community.” He continued walking. “I’m paying too much for this motel, but it’s the only way I can guarantee a little privacy. They won’t allow anyone up to my room without my prior consent.”

“What about the police and the press?”

“The cops can always get in, and reporters are renowned for skirting normal restrictions, but it works for the most part.”

“How are your injuries? I never got a chance to ask.”

“They’re healing, but they’re still sore, as you can imagine.”

“They look worse than when you first came home. It looks like you were in a fight, but the news accounts never mentioned any. Were you hurt before or after your ... episode?”

He stopped, turned and glared at her. “It was because of the episode. I was physically injured, which is why I spent so long trying to protect myself.”

“What are you talking about? There was no one anywhere near you.”

“Then how do you account for my injuries? Granted, there aren’t many photos of me from before the incident, but I was fine beforehand.”

“Were you really?” she said. He didn’t stop walking.

“Despite what you’ve decided, not everything is apparent on the video. If you’re here to accuse me of something, say it and get it over with.”

“Dad,” she implored. “I’m trying to understand what happened. You’ve acted oddly all week. You admitted to several embarrassing episodes and even made appointments to be checked. Is it strange I’d wonder how you are after you suffered a complete breakdown in public?”

He stopped, turning to face her once more. “I’m fine. The injuries aren’t serious. They’re mostly scratches, though I had a few deep gashes in the back of my head. I’ve got a couple permanent indentations in my skull from it, thank you very much. And no, there isn’t anything I can say in my defense, except it wasn’t what it looked like. There’s more happening than I can explain. You’ll have to wait until I can document what’s involved. Until then, you’ll make up your own mind, like everyone else has.”

“Does this have anything to do with that woman?”

“Emma? Absolutely not, although she tried to protect me. This has nothing to do with another woman. By the way, I just came from the shrink. She wasn’t terribly receptive either, but I’m hoping she’s reconsidering her stance.”

“Then what’s going on?” She followed him as he moved off again, dancing around so she could observe his face. “Customers are calling, canceling their contracts. We’re getting protests. People are boycotting us and taking selfies in front of the building. Tim and James are threatening to quit. I need to tell them something, otherwise your company might collapse.”

“We’ve never done much contract business. Sure, activity will fall off, but once this blows over, the next time someone’s pipe bursts, they’ll forget it ever happened. People call us because of the quality of our work, not because of my face. We’ll survive this, given enough time. If you want me to reassure everyone I haven’t lost it, I can’t prove a negative. If I came back now, you couldn’t get any work done then either. Seeing my bruised face won’t make anyone feel more secure.”

“But you’re okay? You’re still seeking help, trying to get to the bottom of this?”

“You asked me to see the doctors. I did. I still have a neurologist’s visit left, but I doubt it’ll change anything. Other than that, I can’t justify anything other than to say, there are extenuating circumstances.”

“Well, if you’re doing okay, I’ll take off. After all, I’m the only one holding the business together at this point. Your making an appearance would at least reassure everyone you haven’t forgotten them. By the way, I left several bags of your stuff at the front desk. I had to sneak it out of the house. I wasn’t sure whether I’d see you or not. If you want to talk, you can call at any time, just don’t phone the house. Mom will throw a fit.”