Quotes
Kim Cusimano
The dream played in fragmented pieces as if the scene was being illuminated by flashes of lightning.
FLASH
he grabbed her arm and his belt connected with a slap
FLASH
Harry punched his wife in the face, and the boy could see her nose was bleeding. There was blood everywhere, on the floor
FLASH
“Get offa me, you little bastard!” Harry kicked the boy in the stomach and then pushed him FLASH
he grabbed a fire poker and
FLASH
he peeked through his fingers and immediately wished he hadn’t. Her blood was on his father’s pants and shirt.
FLASH
“Get offa me, you little”
FLASH
the blood
He awoke, trying not to scream. By morning, he had forgotten all about it.
I wasn’t always like this.
I wasn’t always crazy. It’s hard to say when and exactly how it happened, how I lost my sanity, but I bet my friend can tell you better than I can. Daniel can tell you the event that made me snap. It’s all just a blur to me.
When things get bad in life, and I mean really bad, not just the “poor me” depression most people experience, a person has to find a way to cope. My coping method is to turn to Hollywood. Kind of ironic when you think about it. I’m trying to find safety and security in a place that has as much back-stabbing corruptness as politics. I think that’s what landed me in the shrink’s office.
November 6th
Walks in the door. “What are you and who are you doing?”
“Pardon?”
“One of the dwarves in Snow White says that.”
“Oh, of course. My name is Dr. Wint --”
“Allow myself to introduce . . . myself.”
“Fine, go ahead.”
“Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery.”
Confused. “Have a seat.”
Sits.
“So how are you doing today?”
“I feel like the floor of a taxi cab.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s from Ghostbusters. Egon says it.”
“Oh, I see. I heard you like to quote movies and I can see it’s true.”
“There’s truth but no logic.”
“And who says that?”
“Rose in Titanic.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen that one. Rather sad.”
Pause. “What are you looking at butthead?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Biff Tannen says that to Marty McFly in Back to the Future. What are you looking at butthead?”
“I was just looking at you. I was studying your face and your color and your body posture.”
“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t like when people look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“That’s from The Sixth Sense. Cole Sear says it. Several times.”
“You’ve seen a lot of movies, huh?”
“I may have seen everything, but I’ve never seen an elephant fly.”
“Wait, don’t tell me this one. Dumbo right?”
Nods.
“So how many movies have you seen?”
“Ninety times nine.”
“That’s certainly a lot.”
“Alice thought so too when she heard the Looking Glass creatures say it.”
“So why do you think you’ve come to see me today?”
“We all go a little crazy sometimes, Doctor. Ruth in House of Cards.”
“Do you think you’re crazy?”
“Spoon in Gridlock’d says there’s some crazy people in this world, but I’m like Ouiser in Steel Magnolias because I’m not crazy, I’ve just been in a very bad mood for the last 40 years.”
“That’s a pretty good record, considering you’re not even twenty yet.”
No response.
“And what do you think we can do about that?”
“Wouldn’t it be great if I was crazy? Then the world would be okay.”
“According to whom?”
“According to James in Twelve Monkeys.”
“Well, I don’t think the world would be okay. Now tell me seriously, do you know why you’re here?”
“To be a little boy and never grow up. This is fun, ask me another one.”
“Peter Pan, right?”
“Hook. Robin Williams.”
“This is all a game to you, isn’t it?”
“Life is a board game, Doctor. This is reality.”
“What’s that from?”
“I just made it up myself.”
“So it is possible for you to have a conversation without screenwriters scripting your half of the dialogue for you?”
Sharp look. “All right. That’s the end. Stop the program. Stop it!” Rises.
“Okay. Maybe that was out of line. I’m sorry. Let’s back up and get to know each other before we tackle the big questions, okay?”
Sits. Silence.
“So besides watching movies, what do you like to do?”
“I like to breathe. I’m good at it.”
Blank stare.
“Vibes. Jeff Goldblum.”
“Jeff Goldblum, eh? Okay, here’s one for you.” Checks watch. Getting late. “Must go faster.”
“Jurassic Park AND Independence Day.”
“Wow, you are good. Impressive.”
“They’re very impressive . . . bordering on spectacular. Joe Friday in Dragnet.”
“I have a little theory about that in fact.”
“Have you tested this theory? Barnhardt in The Day the Earth Stood Still.”
“Would you like to hear it?”
“I have a theory that you should do everything before you die. My theory is that everyone is a potential murderer. In When Harry Met Sally, Billy Crystal says he has a theory that hieroglyphics are just an ancient comic strip about a character named Sphinxy.”
“I’m going to tell you no matter how long you stall. I think you need to hear it.”
“Does this story have a point, or does it just go on and on?”
“I’m not going to tell you any stories, just what I think.”
“Mrs. Robinson, if you don’t mind me saying so, this conversation is getting a little strange.”
“I think this is your whole scheme. You impress people with these movie quotes and they don’t realize you’re not really saying anything. Do you think that’s true?”
“You can’t handle the truth!” Storms out.
“Jack Nicholson. A Few Good Men.”
I like Dr. Wint. I liked him right away. He’s a nice guy, easy to talk to and he seems to care. I mean really care, as much as Daniel cares. The only person who had ever cared about me that much is now dead. But that’s basically the story of my life.
Dr. Wint seems to truly want to help me. The problem with being crazy is that I don’t always want help. Deep down inside, I know I need his help, but I have a hard time accepting it. I feel safe and secure in my craziness so I don’t want to leave. Help means change and change is scary.
The next few sessions were much the same; we had very superficial conversations. I think the doctor just wanted to keep me talking. After a week or so, he finally “tackled the big questions.”
November 20th
“So how are you feeling today?”
“You ever had that feeling where you’re not sure if you’re awake or still dreaming?”
“Yes, I have. Who else has had that feeling?”
“Neo in The Matrix.”
“Sort of a confusing feeling isn’t it?”
“I’m very confused.”
“Who is?”
“Wolf in The Tenth Kingdom.”
“But why are you confused?”
Silence.
“Have you seen your dad lately?”
“Have you ever seen a girl with a drumstick shoved up her nose?”
Laughs. “What?”
“Watts says that in Some Kind of Wonderful.”
“Well, I don’t think --”
“Well, if you don’t think, then you shouldn’t talk. The Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Pouts. Pause.
“I take it from your reaction, you don’t want to talk about your dad.”
“As Sean says in Good Will Hunting, my dad used to make us walk down to the park and collect the sticks he was going to beat us with.”
“Bad subject, huh?”
Nods.
“How about your mom then? Want to talk about her?”
“My mother is dead! Killed!”
“There’s no need to shout, Brandon.”
“I’m not shouting!”
Disbelieving look.
“All right, I am. I’m shouting, I’m shouting, I’m shouting!”
Pause.
“That’s from Clue. Tim Curry says it. Then a candlestick falls on his head and knocks him out. It’s funny.”
“You do realize that movies aren’t reflective of reality, don’t you?”
“As Satan says in End of Days, I think you need a reminder of how painful reality can be.”
“It seems to me that you’re the one who doesn’t want that reminder.”
“This is the eighties. No one likes reality any more.”
“It’s not the eighties.”
“It was when Pam said that in batteries not included. Reality Bites.”
“And why is that?”
“Agent Smith believes that as a species, human beings define their reality through suffering and misery.”
“Are we back to The Matrix again?”
Nods.
“Do you agree with him?”
Pause. Nods.
“If I recall correctly, the first session we had together, you said that life was a board game and this is reality. Do you remember that?”
Nods. “What I meant to say was . . .”
“Was what?”
“I am your destiny. George McFly. Back to the Future.”
“All right, listen, our time is almost up. But I want you to think about what I’m going to say, okay? Promise me you’ll think about what I have to say.”
“I cannot promise you riches. What I can offer you is the chance to save the world one case at a time. Lucien Wilbanks in A Time to Kill.”
“I can’t even get a straight ‘I promise’ out of you?”
“I tell you what. I promise to kiss you before you die.”
Taken aback. Confused.
“Laurie to Amy in Little Women.”
“I guess that’s as close as I’ll get to a promise. Listen, I want you to think about the reality of the movies you watch and the reality you live in. I don’t think they match.”
“As you wish. Westley in The Princess Bride. But I want you to think about what Billy Loomis says in Scream: Movies don’t create psychos. Movies make psychos more creative.” Leaves.
I’ve thought about what Dr. Wint said. I know that movies aren’t real. I know things that happen in movies may not really happen in real life. Like the candlestick on Tim Curry’s head. It may be funny in the movie, but it would crack his head open. But even more, I’ve thought about another comment he made, and I made up my mind to do something the very next day.
November 23rd
This morning, I convinced Daniel to take me to the prison before my session. He’s done all the talking and gotten me signed in and everything. So here I am, on the other side of a chicken wire divider, sitting in a hard plastic armless chair, looking at my father. He’s a sight for sore eyes, but I could never tell him that. He needs a shave and a wash.
He greets me with silence and that’s how we sit for a few minutes. “You look good boy,” he says.
“Thank you sir,” I reply. I always get nervous when I have to think up my own lines of conversation to say. It’s so much easier to rely on movie scripts to talk for me. And just the thought that I’m actually sitting across from the man calling himself my father makes me terrified.
“What’re you doing with yourself now?” he asks.
I think about it then shrug and say, “Nothing much.”
He nods. The silence is back. Silence is my refuge, but he finds it to be uncomfortable. He squirms in the hard chair and then asks, “Did you come here for a reason, boy?”
I shake my head. “No,” I say, and then stammer, “just to see you.”
“Oh,” he says. More silence follows and he breaks it again by saying, “Well, you’ve done that now, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” I say and I stand to go.
I turn away from him and as I do, he says, “I’m sorry, boy. I never meant for it to happen. I love you the best way I know how. You know that, don’t you?”
I freeze. He’s sorry? He loves me? His words make me so angry, I feel my emotions converging together in the pit of my stomach, getting ready to burst out. I whip around to face him again, and I spit out the first thing that comes to my head, “Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
“Boy, don’t you start quoting at me!” he yells in his threatening voice. He stands up slowly. My eyes widen in fear, and my heart races. I focus on the divider between us to calm myself. He can’t get to me. He can’t hurt me now. Once I’ve convinced myself of this, I hold my ground. He expects me to run but when I don’t, I can see he’s not sure what to do. We freeze for sometime and finally, he gets tired of it. “Guard,” he calls, “we’re done here.” I leave and he’s escorted back to the cell that he will call home for the next 10-20 years.
November 28th
“Have you thought about what I said last week?”
“I don’t know, I hadn’t thought about it. Kevin Calhoun in City Hall.”
“Oh, I see.”
“A famous writer once said, ‘Reality is the only word in the language that should always be used in quotes.’ Eliot in Amityville 3-D.”
“Your reality, sir, is lies and balderdash and I’m delighted to say I have no grasp of it whatsoever. The Baron in The Adventures of Baron Munchausen.”
Surprised, almost speechless. “I live on a planet called reality. Lisa in Bed of Roses.”
“It’s not quite reality. It’s like a filtered reality. It’s like you can pretend everything’s not quite the way it is. Josh in The Blair Witch Project.”
“Where did you learn our language? Herger the Joyous in The Thirteenth Warrior.”
Laughs. “I did a little research online and came up with some of my own movie quotes. We’ll have to play again sometime.”
Pause. “I thought about something else you said though.”
“And what was it I said?”
“Have you seen your dad lately?”
“Oh yes, I do remember asking that.”
“I saw him one day. I was 15 years old and I saw him as plain as I see you now. Baroness Kessler in The Ninth Gate.”
“You went to see him?”
Nods.
“Really? What did you talk about?”
Shrugs. “Nothing, nothing, nothing, tra la la. David Bowie in Labyrinth.”
“How long did you talk with him?”
“If we ain’t outta here in ten minutes, we won’t need no rocket to fly through space. Parker in Alien.”
“You talked with him for ten minutes about nothing?”
Shrugs.
“What did he say to you?”
“He said, ‘Childhood’s over the first minute you know you’re going to die.’”
“I don’t think your father said that.”
“In The Crow, Top Dollar says his dad said it.”
“But what did your dad say?”
Shrugs.
“Did he say he loved you?”
Glare. “Your parents aren’t always right.”
“Says who?”
“Says a Vietnam vet in Now and Then.”
“Well, that’s true, although sometimes they are. Will you tell me anything that happened?”
Fidgets. Pauses. “He looked terrible.”
“I’m sure he did. Prison life isn’t that kind to prisoners.”
“Miserable crazy son of a bitch let it loose. Got what he deserved by God. Aaron in Alien 3.”
“Do you want to talk about him today?”
“Why don’t we get together and have a drink? We could talk about that. Frank Horrigan. In the Line of Fire.”
“What does he look like?”
“If it looks like shit and sounds like shit, it must be shit. Jack in Boogie Nights.”
“I doubt he’s that bad.”
“You should never, never doubt what no one is sure about. Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way about him. What did he do to make you think that?”
Silence.
“Okay, then will you answer this: why do you refer to him as your dad? He is your step-dad, but I’ve never heard you call him that.”
“Oh spare me the psycho babble father bullshit!”
“What psycho babble? I was just asking a question.”
“Daniel Kaffee says that in A Few Good Men.”
“Well, would you --”
“He’s the only father I’ve known.”
“Were you just a baby when your real father left?”
“Yes, he can be taught!”
Laughs.
“Genie in Aladdin.”
“Do you miss him?”
“I miss her. And I hate her. And I miss her.”
“Her?”
“Virginia Lewis says that about her mother in The Tenth Kingdom.”
“Why do you hate him?”
“He left us, he left us! Sean left me, Mom. You left me at the stadium. Means, when the time came, I left. My dad left home when I was eight. You know what he said to me? Have fun, stay single. I was eight. She won’t ever know the hardship and grief of those of us left behind. It is those left behind who suffer the most.”
“Seems you’ve been collecting lines about people leaving.”
“Jurassic Park, Next Stop Wonderland, Little Giants, Out of Sight, Singles, Alien 3 and The Leopard Son.”
“You can never forgive him for leaving?”
“As Thomas says in Smokesignals, if we forgive our fathers, what is left?”
December 7th
Dr. Wint and I talked about my fathers for quite a few sessions. He just about exhausted my supply of father quotes. He told me I would never get better if I couldn’t come to terms with them, my real father for leaving and my step-father for doing what he did. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that. He also told me that I should go see my dad in prison again. I will. Some day.
December 12th
Today is the two month anniversary of my mother’s death. Daniel canceled my appointment with Dr. Wint for me and he’s taking me to the cemetery. He parks the car and we hop out. Last month we came here once every week, but he didn’t think it was healthy. It really made me mad at first because he didn’t understand what I’m going through. He still doesn’t. But after not coming for awhile, I realized he was right; it’s not good to dwell too much on these things.
He stands beside me in front of the plain gray stone. ‘Shannon Olivia Robinson, 1946-2000’ is all it says. We stand there for quite sometime and I can’t think of any quote that conveys what I want to say. I finally give up and even though it scares me to just talk instead of quote, I say, “I miss her. I really do.”
“I know,” Daniel says, but he really doesn’t.
“I wish she was still alive.”
“She wasn’t happy here,” Daniel reminds me. “She’s a lot better off now than she was here.”
I say quietly, “You don’t know that.”
I know he wants to reply, but he doesn’t. The silence I have gotten very comfortable with in the past few months comes back.
I say, “She hated him.”
Knowing I am referring to my dad, Daniel says, “We all hate him. You, me, her, your friends, her friends.”
“I wish things had been different,” I say and I realize that I haven’t talked to Daniel like this in two whole months. It feels kind of good.
“Listen,” he says, turning to face me, “you can’t spend your whole life playing the ‘what if’ game. ‘What if she hadn’t married him?’ ‘What if she had left him?’ ‘What if’ this, ‘what if’ that. You’ll go crazy and it’s not worth it.”
I look at him and open my mouth to respond, but in this minute, I can’t remind him I AM crazy because I don’t feel like I am. In this brief flash of a moment, I feel whole and healed and my heart doesn’t ache any more. Tears fill my eyes because I feel so happy. But then I get scared because I’ve never felt this way before and I turn my head and blink the tears out. The feelings leave and my comfortably familiar depression comes back. I say, “You don’t know how crazy I am.”
“Don’t tell me . . . ummm . . . Magnolia?” Daniel guesses.
I nod and we start our game as we turn away from the stone and head to the car. The point is to say lines about a certain subject and the first one who can’t think of one loses. Daniel usually loses.
Daniel says, “Oh God, you’re just as crazy as the rest of them! Mr. Hart in Nine to Five.”
“I’m not crazy, I just don’t give a fuck. Willy in Night of the Comet.”
He laughs and says, “You’ve always been crazy. This is the first chance you’ve had to express yourself. Louise in Thelma and Louise.”
“Some people never go crazy.” I say. “What miserable lives they must lead. Henry in Barfly.”
“You’re crazy!” he accuses me. “That’s in Titanic and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.”
“And the original Frankenstein,” I remind him, then say, “I’m not crazy, I’m just colorful. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”
“You’re crazy! You’re fucking crazy!” he shouts at me playfully.
I smile and respond just like Howard does in Speed to that accusation, “No! Poor people are crazy, Jack. I’m eccentric.”
We both laugh. We’ve reached the car, but the game doesn’t end until after we get home. I win again.
December 13th
Daniel literally had to drag me out of bed this morning. I don’t want to face the world today and I really don’t want to talk to a shrink. I hate everyone, but I especially hate my dad.
“Bob Joe sums it up best in Bob: Life is like a box of crap.”
“Is it now?”
“It smells funny and looks like crap in a box.”
“After fifteen minutes of pouty silence, that’s all you have to say?”
Nods. Pouts more.
Pause.
“I hate my dad.”
“So you’ve been saying for the past two months.”
Silence.
“So tell me why life is crap.”
“We either live happily ever after or get killed by horrible curses.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very positive outlook.”
“That’s Wolf’s outlook in The Tenth Kingdom.”
“Well, at least you’re talking to me now.”
“What is it with you people? Tony in Tenth.”
“What people?”
“We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of the dreams. Willy Wonka.”
“What do you dream about?”
“Hey Ringo, I just had the strangest dream. John in Yellow Submarine.”
“What was it about?”
“It’s just like Jack Torrance’s dream in The Shining, it’s the most horrible dream I ever had. We all dream of being a child again, even the worst of us as Don Jose says in The Wild Bunch.”
“So Don Jose dreams of his childhood, but do you?”
“No dream is ever just a dream. Dr. Bill Harford in Eyes Wide Shut.”
“Tell me, do you ever dream that your father is dead?”
“Where is fantasy bred, in the heart or in the head? Willy Wonka.” Smiles. “You were right, freedom is not just a dream, it’s there beyond those fences that we build all by ourselves. Ethan Powell in Instinct.”
“So what kind of fences have you built?”
“In this world, only the strong survive. The weak get crushed like insects. Peter in Shine.”
“What do you think your strong fences are keeping out?”
Pauses. Squirms. “I don’t want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper!”
“All right. Let’s change the subject. How about Daniel? How long have you known him?”
“It’s only forever, it’s not long at all. Labyrinth.”
“He seems to be a very good friend.”
“As Good as it Gets.”
“He told me something this morning; he said you went to your mother’s grave yesterday.”
“According to Vera Cruz in Jawbreaker, a friend is someone who tells the truth no matter what. A true friend never lies.”
“Is that why you’re so upset today? Because you were reminded how much you miss her?”
“You’ve never seen me very upset just like you’ve never seen Ethan in Mission: Impossible very upset.”
“And what happens when you do get very upset?”
“It happens sometimes like Agent Rogersz says in Repo Man. People just explode. Natural causes.”
“You explode when you’re very upset?”
“I’m just like Mary in Manhattan; I’m honest, whaddya want? I say what’s on my mind and if you can’t take it, well then fuck off!”
December 24th
I’m going to see my father today. I feel kind of obligated to since tomorrow is Christmas.
Before we even sit down, my father asks, “Did you come here for a reason this time?”
“Yes, sir,” I reply. My stomach is full of butterflies, but I refuse to let him see that.
“You didn’t just come because you felt sorry for your old man who’s locked up for the holidays, did you?” he asks.
I sit down and say, “No, sir, I --”
He cuts me off by shouting, “So you didn’t even feel sorry for me, huh?” He raises a hand and I flinch backwards. Then he seems to recognize the divider between us so he takes a deep breath and sits. “So what do you want?”
My mind is racing trying to find someone in some movie who says what I want to say. But once again I draw a blank and resignedly, I have to resort to thinking up my own words. “I don’t believe you.”
“About what, boy?”
I cringe at his words. Why can’t he call me by my name? I’m getting so nervous now, I feel like I’m going to throw up. Not only can’t I think of any movie lines, I also don’t know how he’s going to react to what I have to say. “That you love me. And that you never meant for it to happen.”
“But I do and I didn’t,” he says, confusing my scared mind for just a moment.
“You don’t know what love is,” I say and I silently add ‘Jenny in Forrest Gump’ because if I say it out loud and he realized I was quoting, he would get all worked up. But I guess that doesn’t matter because he’s getting all worked up anyway after hearing that.
“I told you, I love you the best way I know how, boy!” he cries.
I stop him from saying anything else by hissing John Luke’s line in Cold Hearts, “On a scale of one to ten, you know negative shit, buddy.”
“Don’t you talk to me that way!” he yells and this time his hand does fly. It only hits the chicken wire, but he gets the desired response. I leap out of my chair and, in trying to get away from him, trip over it. The chair tips over and crashes to the floor; my feet get tangled in each other and I think it’s a miracle when I manage to keep upright. The line “I’m fairly alarmed here” from Jurassic Park rises up in my head and I almost laugh at the absurdity and the timing of it. But then I face my father again and all humor leaves my brain and is replaced by fear.
We have a stare down. I’m too scared to think of anything to say either from a movie or from my own mind. He’s too angry to say anything right now. Minutes creep by and neither of us moves.
“I have to go,” I say finally and my mind volunteers ‘Linda in Magnolia.’ I didn’t even realize that was a quote.
“Yeah, I guess you better,” he says.
We both leave the room.
January 3rd
“I have a little preposition for you this morning.”
“How do you propose to handle the situation? Arjen in Alien 3.”
“I propose that the two of us play the game you and Daniel play. Would you like to try that?”
“Boy, you don’t know nothing. Teddy in Stand By Me.”
“I know I don’t know nearly as much as you do on this particular subject, but I thought I could use the Internet to help me. It may slow things down a little, but it would even up our abilities. What do you say?”
“Ah, I see you’re a high-class cheat, just like Chuck says in The Man Without a Face.”
“It’s not cheating, it’s just making things even.”
“I can't compete with you physically. And you're no match for my brains. Vizzini in The Princess Bride.”
“Umm, right. Do you want to play or not?”
“Can we talk about something other than Hollywood for a change? We’re educated people. Griffin in The Player.”
“You’re the one who starts it. Now could I have a simple yes or no? Do you want to play?”
“You mean you wish to surrender to me? Very well, I accept. Westley also from The Princess Bride.”
I can handle Dr. Wint. I can do this no problem.
“Do you mind if I choose the topic?” he asks and moves to situate himself in front of the computer.
“How stupid do you think I am? Baby Geniuses,” I say before thinking.
He looks at me for a moment and replies, “I hope that’s a rhetorical question.”
I smile sheepishly; it’s probably best to leave that line of conversation, so I go back to his question. “I don’t mind a reasonable amount of trouble. Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon.”
“Good,” he says. After a few clicks of his mouse, he reads the screen then looks at me and says, “You get along with your parents? John in The Breakfast Club.”
Get along with them? Well, I guess I do (or did) with half of them. “No, my parents never got divorced, although I begged them to. I always wanted to be an orphan. I could have if it wasn’t for my parents. Play it Again Sam and Prick up Your Ears respectively.”
“We barely know each other. I don’t think we’ve had a single conversation about anything except your father. Bill Harford in Eyes Wide Shut.”
Well whose fault is that? I never bring up the subject. His statement leads me into one of my favorite speeches. “My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims, like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy - the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring, we’d make meat helmets. When I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds. Pretty standard really. Dr. Evil in Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery.”
“Oh I see. Luger in Loaded Weapon,” he says in response.
That’s about the wimpiest excuse of a line I’ve ever heard, but why end a game so early? I’ll let it slide by and keep going. But if he can get off that easy, then so can I. “Do you really? Annette in A Night in Casablanca.”
He ignores my question and asks me another instead, “Did you love your father? Palmer in Contact.”
I sigh, “I have told you the story of your father many many times. Ada in The Piano.” I think for a minute, smile a little and then add, “You know, you need a license to buy a dog, to drive a car - hell you need a license to catch a fish. But they’ll let any butt-reaming asshole be a father. Tod in Parenthood.”
He doesn’t pause for long before saying, “Did your mother teach you to talk like that? John in Children of the Corn II.”
I smile. I love being asked what my mother taught me. I say with as much seriousness as I can muster, “Mother always taught me: never eat singing food. Rizzo in Muppet Christmas Carol.” Almost as an after-thought, I add, “Know what my father taught me? Nothing. Cyrus in Con Air.”
“You hate your own father!” he accuses me then says, “Lou in Jungle Fever.”
“I wrote a poem about how much I hate him. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. Anita Liberty.”
“Hate gets under a man’s skin. It spoils his whole life. It’s like a bad growth, kid. You got to get rid of it. Warden in The Cimarron Kid.”
“If hate were people, I’d be China! Phil in City Slickers.”
“But you hate people. Dante in Clerks.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. His response was so perfect. Almost as if he knew what I was going to say. That’s an unsettling thought that pauses me for a moment. Then I realize the ball is back in my corner, and it’s my serve. “I don’t hate people. I just like it a lot better when they’re not around. Henry in Barfly.”
“What do you hate the most? Almasy in The English Patient.”
“I built my whole life on hating my father. All the time he was inside me laughing. James in Detective Story.” Then, just for good measure, I add, “I know you think my dad’s harmless, but you’re wrong. Jane in American Beauty.” This is almost too easy. But then everything changes.
“You’re just like you father: a big, stupid, muscle-headed moron. Mrs. Marcus in It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World,” he says and he’s still smiling.
I refuse to be compared to my father so it’s no more playing nice. I say, “At least I know who my father was, you pig-eating son of a whore! Ahmahd in The Thirteenth Warrior.”
He surprises me totally by continuing the name calling. “Why you slimy, double-crossing, no-good swindler! Lando in Empire Strikes Back.”
I cultivate a French accent and say, “You don’t frighten us, English pig-dog! Go and boil your bottom, son of a silly person. I blow my nose on you, so-called Arthur-king, you and your silly English ka-niggets!” Then I imitate the French knight in Monty Python and the Holy Grail by sticking my thumbs in my ears, waving my hands at him and blowing a raspberry. Dr. Wint does a very admirable job of hiding his laughter.
He comes back with, “Why you stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking nerf-herder! Leia, also in Empire.”
I’m getting angry because he’s remaining so calm and what I can’t believe is that he’s actually keeping up with me. I yell, “You got shmutz for brains! The Crew.”
He catches me off guard by changing the subject abruptly. “Tell me about your mother. Freud in Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.”
My mind takes off on its own, racing though my file of quotes. The sudden change from father to mother and my heightened anger leads me to say, “You look like you just fucked your own mother. Dietrich in Face/Off.” I can hardly believe I just said that. I figure he’s going to declare himself the winner because that response makes no sense with his question. But then, he doesn’t know all the rules, so he lets it go.
He looks at me calmly and says, “I don’t believe you had a mother. Samuel in The Ghost and the Darkness.”
How do I handle that comment? I feel myself freezing up, I can’t think of anything to say. Why am I getting so worked up about this, it’s just a game. Then I catch him smirking; he thinks he’s got me. That infuriates me even more because I never lose that easily! I say, “Well, Mom’s dead, so shut your fly trap. Harold in Drop Dead Gorgeous.” I suddenly feel that this conversation has taken a turn I won’t like.
“How did she die?” he asks. I am so scared about where this line of discussion is going, I don’t even notice he’s stopped playing.
“He’s not pining! It’s passed on!” I say in my best British accent, trying to imitate John Cleese. “This parrot is no more! It has ceased to be! It has expired and gone to see its maker! This is a late parrot! It’s a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed it to the perch, it would be pushing up the daisies! Its metabolic processes are now history! It’s off the twig! It’s kicked the bucket, it’s shuffled off its mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleeding choir invisible! This is an ex-parrot!” I’m nearly hysterical by the end of the speech and I can’t even think straight enough to come up with the name of the movie. My mother’s dead, why can’t he just accept that and move on?
He pauses, searching; he leans back in his chair with a thoughtful look and says, “I never said I was the best father in the world. Give me a little credit will you, credit for being someone who tried to love you the only way he knew how. A slightly edited version of Celeste’s line in Soapdish.”
Maybe it was his cockiness, acting like he knew he already had me beat. Or maybe it was the calmness in his voice. Most possibly it was the line he chose, which said the same thing my father had said almost two weeks ago. Whatever it was, something about his question finally makes me snap. I jump to my feet, ball my hands into white-knuckled fists and scream, “My father killed my mother! I watched him do it! First he had his belt and . . . then she grabbed it from him and he . . . he . . . grabbed . . . “
He grabbed her arm and his belt connected with a slap on her waist. “What were you doing with another man?” he screamed in her face.
Brandon jumped onto his father’s arm, trying to pull the bigger man away from his cringing mother. “Leave her alone, please!”
“Get offa me, you little bastard!” his father yelled and shoved Brandon to the floor. Harry kicked the boy in the stomach and then easily picked him up by the shirt and threw/pushed him over to the wall. Brandon crumpled to the floor, cowering. “And don’t move until I say so!” Harry shouted.
“Please, Harry,” Shannon begged, “Don’t...”
He cut her off with another smack on the butt. “Why did I see you with another man?” he asked again.
“Sean is just an old friend. We were having lunch together, that’s all, I swear Harry.”
When the belt came swinging again, Shannon grabbed it and yanked. The belt flew out of Harry’s hand and across the room, landing behind the couch. With more profanities, Harry punched his wife in the face, and as she fell to the floor, Brandon could see her nose was bleeding. Harry looked around wildly for something else to continue the abuse with before she could get back up, and the first thing he saw was the fire poker. He grabbed that and went back to work.
Brandon curled up as small as he could on the floor, not daring to move or breathe in case his father decided to turn the poker onto him. When Harry grabbed the fire poker, Brandon covered his face with his hands; when Shannon stopped making noises, he peeked through his fingers and immediately wished he hadn’t. Her blood was everywhere, on the floor, on the couch, on his father’s pants and shirt. Harry was no longer just bludgeoning his wife with the fire poker, he was stabbing her with it, screaming the whole time. When Harry’s back was turned to Brandon, the boy crawled out of the room, vomited and then picked up the phone.
I can’t believe he made me tell him that. I hate him for it. I never wanted to remember that night, and somehow this doctor tricked me into just that. Slowly, I realize I am curled up on his couch, with my hands over my face, and I am crying. I think it’s the tears that make me really hate him. “I hate this place! I want to get out of here. I hate you! Get out of my life! I hate you! You’re a bastard!”
Dr. Wint seems almost shocked by my story. It takes him a moment before he responds. “And you have every reason to hate me, Brandon. What are you quoting?”
I sit up, wiping away tears, and mumble, “Burnt Offerings, The Cable Guy, and Billy Elliott.”
“I’m so sorry for what you saw, Brandon. That is not something anyone should have to watch. I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
Yeah, well, I know someone else who’s ‘sorry’ too, but at least he’s paying for it in jail. I get ready to blow off Dr. Wint, but something stops me. I look in his eyes and think that maybe he really is sorry. “It’s called a mistake, Friday. But I guess you never make any of those do you? Pep in Dragnet.”
“I don’t think I make very many.”
“Mrs. Upjohn asks in A Day at the Races, are you sure, Doctor, that you haven’t made a mistake?”
He ponders the question for a moment, and then looks me straight in the eye, and says, “This time? No, I don’t think I have.”
January 4th
I haven’t seen Dr. Wint for over a week. I just can’t bring myself to face him. My main excuse for avoiding him is fear. I’m scared he’ll make me go back to that night again, and I don’t think I can. I want to forget that night, and he just won’t let me do that. If I’m happy in my craziness, why should I let anyone change me?
January 14th
“I was beginning to wonder about you Brandon. How are you doing?”
“I feel like a defective typewriter.”
“Like what?”
“Like Rizzo in Grease. A defective typewriter.”
“And exactly how does that feel?”
“This feels like a game to me, or at least to Ted in eXistenZ.”
“That’s fine for Ted, but what does it feel like for Brandon?”
Pause. “Scary.”
“Why?”
Shifts in chair. “It’s new.”
“What’s new. Feeling scared?”
“No.” Crosses legs. Plays with shoelaces. “Feeling not scared.”
“I’m sorry, Brandon, I just don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
“Of course not, no one understands a crazy person.”
“Brandon, listen. You are not crazy. You are traumatized, scared, still in shock, stressed, alone and most of all depressed, and you are fighting hard to stay that way. If you took half of the energy you used to stay depressed and used it to accept some help, we might be getting somewhere now. Why are you fighting my help so hard?”
Why indeed, I wonder. His words make sense, but I don’t want to believe him. Not yet. I mumble to the floor, “It’s easier to be depressed.”
“Easier?” the doctor says, trying to keep his voice from rising into yelling. “Is it easier to sit at home thinking about nothing while watching TV? Or is it easier to sit here on my couch trying to think of a movie quote I haven’t heard yet while also dodging the painful subject I want you to talk about?” He indicates me on the couch with his hands outstretched and finishes, “You think this is easier?”
Well, when he puts it that way, I suppose he’s right. It would be easier to be at home rather than sitting here trying to deflect his questions. But since I can’t quite bring myself to admit that to him, I start fighting again. “It’s so easy, a trained monkey could do it and it did until that uproar with the Humane Society. Franklin in Carpool.“
He sighs in frustration. “Fine, let that go for now. Let me ask this. How do you see your life right now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know what a metaphor is?” I nod. “What would be a metaphor for your life right now?”
“A pit,” I reply without spending too much time thinking about it. The doctor just nods, so I feel compelled to go on, “A deep pit I’m alone in and there’s no one to help me out.”
“Can you see the top of the pit?” he asks.
“No,” I say, and that thought depresses me more to the point where I feel like I’m going to cry.
“Try,” he says. “Look up and try to see what is at the top of the pit.”
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
“You don’t or won’t know?”
I really don’t like how this is going, so I look him straight in the eye, ready to deliver a zinger of a line just to get him off my case, but I stop. Behind the frustration he felt earlier, I see compassion in his eyes and I finally understand what he has been trying to tell me. I squint my eyes and look up at the ceiling and say, “I see you at the top.” I feel my barriers breaking, but I don’t try to keep them up.
Dr. Wint gets up from his desk and sits beside me on the couch. “That’s right, Brandon, I’m up there throwing you a rope and you just refuse to see it. Do you see it now? Do you see I want to help you out of the pit?”
I nod. “I’m not crazy,” I sputter before I give up fighting altogether and start crying. “I’m not crazy,” I repeat, and I am amazed at how much relief there is in those words.
“No, Brandon, you never were,” the doctor assures me.
“Why do you care so much about me?” I ask.
The question throws him for a loop. His brow furrows, and he stares up at the ceiling. He contemplates the ceiling tiles for a very long time before returning his gaze to me and saying softly, “Because someone has to.”
His words break whatever barriers were left. I allow myself to cry openly and without any shame about the act. My tears fall for my mother, the one person who had ever shown me the empathy the doctor was showing me now; they fall for the father I never knew and the father who couldn’t love me. But mostly they fall for me: In pity for the time I’ve lost living in movies and in hope for a future free from the bleak depression that once plagued me.
FLASH
he grabbed her arm and his belt connected with a slap
FLASH
Harry punched his wife in the face, and the boy could see her nose was bleeding. There was blood everywhere, on the floor
FLASH
“Get offa me, you little bastard!” Harry kicked the boy in the stomach and then pushed him FLASH
he grabbed a fire poker and
FLASH
he peeked through his fingers and immediately wished he hadn’t. Her blood was on his father’s pants and shirt.
FLASH
“Get offa me, you little”
FLASH
the blood
He awoke, trying not to scream. By morning, he had forgotten all about it.
I wasn’t always like this.
I wasn’t always crazy. It’s hard to say when and exactly how it happened, how I lost my sanity, but I bet my friend can tell you better than I can. Daniel can tell you the event that made me snap. It’s all just a blur to me.
When things get bad in life, and I mean really bad, not just the “poor me” depression most people experience, a person has to find a way to cope. My coping method is to turn to Hollywood. Kind of ironic when you think about it. I’m trying to find safety and security in a place that has as much back-stabbing corruptness as politics. I think that’s what landed me in the shrink’s office.
November 6th
Walks in the door. “What are you and who are you doing?”
“Pardon?”
“One of the dwarves in Snow White says that.”
“Oh, of course. My name is Dr. Wint --”
“Allow myself to introduce . . . myself.”
“Fine, go ahead.”
“Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery.”
Confused. “Have a seat.”
Sits.
“So how are you doing today?”
“I feel like the floor of a taxi cab.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s from Ghostbusters. Egon says it.”
“Oh, I see. I heard you like to quote movies and I can see it’s true.”
“There’s truth but no logic.”
“And who says that?”
“Rose in Titanic.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen that one. Rather sad.”
Pause. “What are you looking at butthead?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Biff Tannen says that to Marty McFly in Back to the Future. What are you looking at butthead?”
“I was just looking at you. I was studying your face and your color and your body posture.”
“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t like when people look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“That’s from The Sixth Sense. Cole Sear says it. Several times.”
“You’ve seen a lot of movies, huh?”
“I may have seen everything, but I’ve never seen an elephant fly.”
“Wait, don’t tell me this one. Dumbo right?”
Nods.
“So how many movies have you seen?”
“Ninety times nine.”
“That’s certainly a lot.”
“Alice thought so too when she heard the Looking Glass creatures say it.”
“So why do you think you’ve come to see me today?”
“We all go a little crazy sometimes, Doctor. Ruth in House of Cards.”
“Do you think you’re crazy?”
“Spoon in Gridlock’d says there’s some crazy people in this world, but I’m like Ouiser in Steel Magnolias because I’m not crazy, I’ve just been in a very bad mood for the last 40 years.”
“That’s a pretty good record, considering you’re not even twenty yet.”
No response.
“And what do you think we can do about that?”
“Wouldn’t it be great if I was crazy? Then the world would be okay.”
“According to whom?”
“According to James in Twelve Monkeys.”
“Well, I don’t think the world would be okay. Now tell me seriously, do you know why you’re here?”
“To be a little boy and never grow up. This is fun, ask me another one.”
“Peter Pan, right?”
“Hook. Robin Williams.”
“This is all a game to you, isn’t it?”
“Life is a board game, Doctor. This is reality.”
“What’s that from?”
“I just made it up myself.”
“So it is possible for you to have a conversation without screenwriters scripting your half of the dialogue for you?”
Sharp look. “All right. That’s the end. Stop the program. Stop it!” Rises.
“Okay. Maybe that was out of line. I’m sorry. Let’s back up and get to know each other before we tackle the big questions, okay?”
Sits. Silence.
“So besides watching movies, what do you like to do?”
“I like to breathe. I’m good at it.”
Blank stare.
“Vibes. Jeff Goldblum.”
“Jeff Goldblum, eh? Okay, here’s one for you.” Checks watch. Getting late. “Must go faster.”
“Jurassic Park AND Independence Day.”
“Wow, you are good. Impressive.”
“They’re very impressive . . . bordering on spectacular. Joe Friday in Dragnet.”
“I have a little theory about that in fact.”
“Have you tested this theory? Barnhardt in The Day the Earth Stood Still.”
“Would you like to hear it?”
“I have a theory that you should do everything before you die. My theory is that everyone is a potential murderer. In When Harry Met Sally, Billy Crystal says he has a theory that hieroglyphics are just an ancient comic strip about a character named Sphinxy.”
“I’m going to tell you no matter how long you stall. I think you need to hear it.”
“Does this story have a point, or does it just go on and on?”
“I’m not going to tell you any stories, just what I think.”
“Mrs. Robinson, if you don’t mind me saying so, this conversation is getting a little strange.”
“I think this is your whole scheme. You impress people with these movie quotes and they don’t realize you’re not really saying anything. Do you think that’s true?”
“You can’t handle the truth!” Storms out.
“Jack Nicholson. A Few Good Men.”
I like Dr. Wint. I liked him right away. He’s a nice guy, easy to talk to and he seems to care. I mean really care, as much as Daniel cares. The only person who had ever cared about me that much is now dead. But that’s basically the story of my life.
Dr. Wint seems to truly want to help me. The problem with being crazy is that I don’t always want help. Deep down inside, I know I need his help, but I have a hard time accepting it. I feel safe and secure in my craziness so I don’t want to leave. Help means change and change is scary.
The next few sessions were much the same; we had very superficial conversations. I think the doctor just wanted to keep me talking. After a week or so, he finally “tackled the big questions.”
November 20th
“So how are you feeling today?”
“You ever had that feeling where you’re not sure if you’re awake or still dreaming?”
“Yes, I have. Who else has had that feeling?”
“Neo in The Matrix.”
“Sort of a confusing feeling isn’t it?”
“I’m very confused.”
“Who is?”
“Wolf in The Tenth Kingdom.”
“But why are you confused?”
Silence.
“Have you seen your dad lately?”
“Have you ever seen a girl with a drumstick shoved up her nose?”
Laughs. “What?”
“Watts says that in Some Kind of Wonderful.”
“Well, I don’t think --”
“Well, if you don’t think, then you shouldn’t talk. The Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Pouts. Pause.
“I take it from your reaction, you don’t want to talk about your dad.”
“As Sean says in Good Will Hunting, my dad used to make us walk down to the park and collect the sticks he was going to beat us with.”
“Bad subject, huh?”
Nods.
“How about your mom then? Want to talk about her?”
“My mother is dead! Killed!”
“There’s no need to shout, Brandon.”
“I’m not shouting!”
Disbelieving look.
“All right, I am. I’m shouting, I’m shouting, I’m shouting!”
Pause.
“That’s from Clue. Tim Curry says it. Then a candlestick falls on his head and knocks him out. It’s funny.”
“You do realize that movies aren’t reflective of reality, don’t you?”
“As Satan says in End of Days, I think you need a reminder of how painful reality can be.”
“It seems to me that you’re the one who doesn’t want that reminder.”
“This is the eighties. No one likes reality any more.”
“It’s not the eighties.”
“It was when Pam said that in batteries not included. Reality Bites.”
“And why is that?”
“Agent Smith believes that as a species, human beings define their reality through suffering and misery.”
“Are we back to The Matrix again?”
Nods.
“Do you agree with him?”
Pause. Nods.
“If I recall correctly, the first session we had together, you said that life was a board game and this is reality. Do you remember that?”
Nods. “What I meant to say was . . .”
“Was what?”
“I am your destiny. George McFly. Back to the Future.”
“All right, listen, our time is almost up. But I want you to think about what I’m going to say, okay? Promise me you’ll think about what I have to say.”
“I cannot promise you riches. What I can offer you is the chance to save the world one case at a time. Lucien Wilbanks in A Time to Kill.”
“I can’t even get a straight ‘I promise’ out of you?”
“I tell you what. I promise to kiss you before you die.”
Taken aback. Confused.
“Laurie to Amy in Little Women.”
“I guess that’s as close as I’ll get to a promise. Listen, I want you to think about the reality of the movies you watch and the reality you live in. I don’t think they match.”
“As you wish. Westley in The Princess Bride. But I want you to think about what Billy Loomis says in Scream: Movies don’t create psychos. Movies make psychos more creative.” Leaves.
I’ve thought about what Dr. Wint said. I know that movies aren’t real. I know things that happen in movies may not really happen in real life. Like the candlestick on Tim Curry’s head. It may be funny in the movie, but it would crack his head open. But even more, I’ve thought about another comment he made, and I made up my mind to do something the very next day.
November 23rd
This morning, I convinced Daniel to take me to the prison before my session. He’s done all the talking and gotten me signed in and everything. So here I am, on the other side of a chicken wire divider, sitting in a hard plastic armless chair, looking at my father. He’s a sight for sore eyes, but I could never tell him that. He needs a shave and a wash.
He greets me with silence and that’s how we sit for a few minutes. “You look good boy,” he says.
“Thank you sir,” I reply. I always get nervous when I have to think up my own lines of conversation to say. It’s so much easier to rely on movie scripts to talk for me. And just the thought that I’m actually sitting across from the man calling himself my father makes me terrified.
“What’re you doing with yourself now?” he asks.
I think about it then shrug and say, “Nothing much.”
He nods. The silence is back. Silence is my refuge, but he finds it to be uncomfortable. He squirms in the hard chair and then asks, “Did you come here for a reason, boy?”
I shake my head. “No,” I say, and then stammer, “just to see you.”
“Oh,” he says. More silence follows and he breaks it again by saying, “Well, you’ve done that now, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” I say and I stand to go.
I turn away from him and as I do, he says, “I’m sorry, boy. I never meant for it to happen. I love you the best way I know how. You know that, don’t you?”
I freeze. He’s sorry? He loves me? His words make me so angry, I feel my emotions converging together in the pit of my stomach, getting ready to burst out. I whip around to face him again, and I spit out the first thing that comes to my head, “Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
“Boy, don’t you start quoting at me!” he yells in his threatening voice. He stands up slowly. My eyes widen in fear, and my heart races. I focus on the divider between us to calm myself. He can’t get to me. He can’t hurt me now. Once I’ve convinced myself of this, I hold my ground. He expects me to run but when I don’t, I can see he’s not sure what to do. We freeze for sometime and finally, he gets tired of it. “Guard,” he calls, “we’re done here.” I leave and he’s escorted back to the cell that he will call home for the next 10-20 years.
November 28th
“Have you thought about what I said last week?”
“I don’t know, I hadn’t thought about it. Kevin Calhoun in City Hall.”
“Oh, I see.”
“A famous writer once said, ‘Reality is the only word in the language that should always be used in quotes.’ Eliot in Amityville 3-D.”
“Your reality, sir, is lies and balderdash and I’m delighted to say I have no grasp of it whatsoever. The Baron in The Adventures of Baron Munchausen.”
Surprised, almost speechless. “I live on a planet called reality. Lisa in Bed of Roses.”
“It’s not quite reality. It’s like a filtered reality. It’s like you can pretend everything’s not quite the way it is. Josh in The Blair Witch Project.”
“Where did you learn our language? Herger the Joyous in The Thirteenth Warrior.”
Laughs. “I did a little research online and came up with some of my own movie quotes. We’ll have to play again sometime.”
Pause. “I thought about something else you said though.”
“And what was it I said?”
“Have you seen your dad lately?”
“Oh yes, I do remember asking that.”
“I saw him one day. I was 15 years old and I saw him as plain as I see you now. Baroness Kessler in The Ninth Gate.”
“You went to see him?”
Nods.
“Really? What did you talk about?”
Shrugs. “Nothing, nothing, nothing, tra la la. David Bowie in Labyrinth.”
“How long did you talk with him?”
“If we ain’t outta here in ten minutes, we won’t need no rocket to fly through space. Parker in Alien.”
“You talked with him for ten minutes about nothing?”
Shrugs.
“What did he say to you?”
“He said, ‘Childhood’s over the first minute you know you’re going to die.’”
“I don’t think your father said that.”
“In The Crow, Top Dollar says his dad said it.”
“But what did your dad say?”
Shrugs.
“Did he say he loved you?”
Glare. “Your parents aren’t always right.”
“Says who?”
“Says a Vietnam vet in Now and Then.”
“Well, that’s true, although sometimes they are. Will you tell me anything that happened?”
Fidgets. Pauses. “He looked terrible.”
“I’m sure he did. Prison life isn’t that kind to prisoners.”
“Miserable crazy son of a bitch let it loose. Got what he deserved by God. Aaron in Alien 3.”
“Do you want to talk about him today?”
“Why don’t we get together and have a drink? We could talk about that. Frank Horrigan. In the Line of Fire.”
“What does he look like?”
“If it looks like shit and sounds like shit, it must be shit. Jack in Boogie Nights.”
“I doubt he’s that bad.”
“You should never, never doubt what no one is sure about. Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way about him. What did he do to make you think that?”
Silence.
“Okay, then will you answer this: why do you refer to him as your dad? He is your step-dad, but I’ve never heard you call him that.”
“Oh spare me the psycho babble father bullshit!”
“What psycho babble? I was just asking a question.”
“Daniel Kaffee says that in A Few Good Men.”
“Well, would you --”
“He’s the only father I’ve known.”
“Were you just a baby when your real father left?”
“Yes, he can be taught!”
Laughs.
“Genie in Aladdin.”
“Do you miss him?”
“I miss her. And I hate her. And I miss her.”
“Her?”
“Virginia Lewis says that about her mother in The Tenth Kingdom.”
“Why do you hate him?”
“He left us, he left us! Sean left me, Mom. You left me at the stadium. Means, when the time came, I left. My dad left home when I was eight. You know what he said to me? Have fun, stay single. I was eight. She won’t ever know the hardship and grief of those of us left behind. It is those left behind who suffer the most.”
“Seems you’ve been collecting lines about people leaving.”
“Jurassic Park, Next Stop Wonderland, Little Giants, Out of Sight, Singles, Alien 3 and The Leopard Son.”
“You can never forgive him for leaving?”
“As Thomas says in Smokesignals, if we forgive our fathers, what is left?”
December 7th
Dr. Wint and I talked about my fathers for quite a few sessions. He just about exhausted my supply of father quotes. He told me I would never get better if I couldn’t come to terms with them, my real father for leaving and my step-father for doing what he did. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that. He also told me that I should go see my dad in prison again. I will. Some day.
December 12th
Today is the two month anniversary of my mother’s death. Daniel canceled my appointment with Dr. Wint for me and he’s taking me to the cemetery. He parks the car and we hop out. Last month we came here once every week, but he didn’t think it was healthy. It really made me mad at first because he didn’t understand what I’m going through. He still doesn’t. But after not coming for awhile, I realized he was right; it’s not good to dwell too much on these things.
He stands beside me in front of the plain gray stone. ‘Shannon Olivia Robinson, 1946-2000’ is all it says. We stand there for quite sometime and I can’t think of any quote that conveys what I want to say. I finally give up and even though it scares me to just talk instead of quote, I say, “I miss her. I really do.”
“I know,” Daniel says, but he really doesn’t.
“I wish she was still alive.”
“She wasn’t happy here,” Daniel reminds me. “She’s a lot better off now than she was here.”
I say quietly, “You don’t know that.”
I know he wants to reply, but he doesn’t. The silence I have gotten very comfortable with in the past few months comes back.
I say, “She hated him.”
Knowing I am referring to my dad, Daniel says, “We all hate him. You, me, her, your friends, her friends.”
“I wish things had been different,” I say and I realize that I haven’t talked to Daniel like this in two whole months. It feels kind of good.
“Listen,” he says, turning to face me, “you can’t spend your whole life playing the ‘what if’ game. ‘What if she hadn’t married him?’ ‘What if she had left him?’ ‘What if’ this, ‘what if’ that. You’ll go crazy and it’s not worth it.”
I look at him and open my mouth to respond, but in this minute, I can’t remind him I AM crazy because I don’t feel like I am. In this brief flash of a moment, I feel whole and healed and my heart doesn’t ache any more. Tears fill my eyes because I feel so happy. But then I get scared because I’ve never felt this way before and I turn my head and blink the tears out. The feelings leave and my comfortably familiar depression comes back. I say, “You don’t know how crazy I am.”
“Don’t tell me . . . ummm . . . Magnolia?” Daniel guesses.
I nod and we start our game as we turn away from the stone and head to the car. The point is to say lines about a certain subject and the first one who can’t think of one loses. Daniel usually loses.
Daniel says, “Oh God, you’re just as crazy as the rest of them! Mr. Hart in Nine to Five.”
“I’m not crazy, I just don’t give a fuck. Willy in Night of the Comet.”
He laughs and says, “You’ve always been crazy. This is the first chance you’ve had to express yourself. Louise in Thelma and Louise.”
“Some people never go crazy.” I say. “What miserable lives they must lead. Henry in Barfly.”
“You’re crazy!” he accuses me. “That’s in Titanic and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.”
“And the original Frankenstein,” I remind him, then say, “I’m not crazy, I’m just colorful. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”
“You’re crazy! You’re fucking crazy!” he shouts at me playfully.
I smile and respond just like Howard does in Speed to that accusation, “No! Poor people are crazy, Jack. I’m eccentric.”
We both laugh. We’ve reached the car, but the game doesn’t end until after we get home. I win again.
December 13th
Daniel literally had to drag me out of bed this morning. I don’t want to face the world today and I really don’t want to talk to a shrink. I hate everyone, but I especially hate my dad.
“Bob Joe sums it up best in Bob: Life is like a box of crap.”
“Is it now?”
“It smells funny and looks like crap in a box.”
“After fifteen minutes of pouty silence, that’s all you have to say?”
Nods. Pouts more.
Pause.
“I hate my dad.”
“So you’ve been saying for the past two months.”
Silence.
“So tell me why life is crap.”
“We either live happily ever after or get killed by horrible curses.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very positive outlook.”
“That’s Wolf’s outlook in The Tenth Kingdom.”
“Well, at least you’re talking to me now.”
“What is it with you people? Tony in Tenth.”
“What people?”
“We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of the dreams. Willy Wonka.”
“What do you dream about?”
“Hey Ringo, I just had the strangest dream. John in Yellow Submarine.”
“What was it about?”
“It’s just like Jack Torrance’s dream in The Shining, it’s the most horrible dream I ever had. We all dream of being a child again, even the worst of us as Don Jose says in The Wild Bunch.”
“So Don Jose dreams of his childhood, but do you?”
“No dream is ever just a dream. Dr. Bill Harford in Eyes Wide Shut.”
“Tell me, do you ever dream that your father is dead?”
“Where is fantasy bred, in the heart or in the head? Willy Wonka.” Smiles. “You were right, freedom is not just a dream, it’s there beyond those fences that we build all by ourselves. Ethan Powell in Instinct.”
“So what kind of fences have you built?”
“In this world, only the strong survive. The weak get crushed like insects. Peter in Shine.”
“What do you think your strong fences are keeping out?”
Pauses. Squirms. “I don’t want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper!”
“All right. Let’s change the subject. How about Daniel? How long have you known him?”
“It’s only forever, it’s not long at all. Labyrinth.”
“He seems to be a very good friend.”
“As Good as it Gets.”
“He told me something this morning; he said you went to your mother’s grave yesterday.”
“According to Vera Cruz in Jawbreaker, a friend is someone who tells the truth no matter what. A true friend never lies.”
“Is that why you’re so upset today? Because you were reminded how much you miss her?”
“You’ve never seen me very upset just like you’ve never seen Ethan in Mission: Impossible very upset.”
“And what happens when you do get very upset?”
“It happens sometimes like Agent Rogersz says in Repo Man. People just explode. Natural causes.”
“You explode when you’re very upset?”
“I’m just like Mary in Manhattan; I’m honest, whaddya want? I say what’s on my mind and if you can’t take it, well then fuck off!”
December 24th
I’m going to see my father today. I feel kind of obligated to since tomorrow is Christmas.
Before we even sit down, my father asks, “Did you come here for a reason this time?”
“Yes, sir,” I reply. My stomach is full of butterflies, but I refuse to let him see that.
“You didn’t just come because you felt sorry for your old man who’s locked up for the holidays, did you?” he asks.
I sit down and say, “No, sir, I --”
He cuts me off by shouting, “So you didn’t even feel sorry for me, huh?” He raises a hand and I flinch backwards. Then he seems to recognize the divider between us so he takes a deep breath and sits. “So what do you want?”
My mind is racing trying to find someone in some movie who says what I want to say. But once again I draw a blank and resignedly, I have to resort to thinking up my own words. “I don’t believe you.”
“About what, boy?”
I cringe at his words. Why can’t he call me by my name? I’m getting so nervous now, I feel like I’m going to throw up. Not only can’t I think of any movie lines, I also don’t know how he’s going to react to what I have to say. “That you love me. And that you never meant for it to happen.”
“But I do and I didn’t,” he says, confusing my scared mind for just a moment.
“You don’t know what love is,” I say and I silently add ‘Jenny in Forrest Gump’ because if I say it out loud and he realized I was quoting, he would get all worked up. But I guess that doesn’t matter because he’s getting all worked up anyway after hearing that.
“I told you, I love you the best way I know how, boy!” he cries.
I stop him from saying anything else by hissing John Luke’s line in Cold Hearts, “On a scale of one to ten, you know negative shit, buddy.”
“Don’t you talk to me that way!” he yells and this time his hand does fly. It only hits the chicken wire, but he gets the desired response. I leap out of my chair and, in trying to get away from him, trip over it. The chair tips over and crashes to the floor; my feet get tangled in each other and I think it’s a miracle when I manage to keep upright. The line “I’m fairly alarmed here” from Jurassic Park rises up in my head and I almost laugh at the absurdity and the timing of it. But then I face my father again and all humor leaves my brain and is replaced by fear.
We have a stare down. I’m too scared to think of anything to say either from a movie or from my own mind. He’s too angry to say anything right now. Minutes creep by and neither of us moves.
“I have to go,” I say finally and my mind volunteers ‘Linda in Magnolia.’ I didn’t even realize that was a quote.
“Yeah, I guess you better,” he says.
We both leave the room.
January 3rd
“I have a little preposition for you this morning.”
“How do you propose to handle the situation? Arjen in Alien 3.”
“I propose that the two of us play the game you and Daniel play. Would you like to try that?”
“Boy, you don’t know nothing. Teddy in Stand By Me.”
“I know I don’t know nearly as much as you do on this particular subject, but I thought I could use the Internet to help me. It may slow things down a little, but it would even up our abilities. What do you say?”
“Ah, I see you’re a high-class cheat, just like Chuck says in The Man Without a Face.”
“It’s not cheating, it’s just making things even.”
“I can't compete with you physically. And you're no match for my brains. Vizzini in The Princess Bride.”
“Umm, right. Do you want to play or not?”
“Can we talk about something other than Hollywood for a change? We’re educated people. Griffin in The Player.”
“You’re the one who starts it. Now could I have a simple yes or no? Do you want to play?”
“You mean you wish to surrender to me? Very well, I accept. Westley also from The Princess Bride.”
I can handle Dr. Wint. I can do this no problem.
“Do you mind if I choose the topic?” he asks and moves to situate himself in front of the computer.
“How stupid do you think I am? Baby Geniuses,” I say before thinking.
He looks at me for a moment and replies, “I hope that’s a rhetorical question.”
I smile sheepishly; it’s probably best to leave that line of conversation, so I go back to his question. “I don’t mind a reasonable amount of trouble. Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon.”
“Good,” he says. After a few clicks of his mouse, he reads the screen then looks at me and says, “You get along with your parents? John in The Breakfast Club.”
Get along with them? Well, I guess I do (or did) with half of them. “No, my parents never got divorced, although I begged them to. I always wanted to be an orphan. I could have if it wasn’t for my parents. Play it Again Sam and Prick up Your Ears respectively.”
“We barely know each other. I don’t think we’ve had a single conversation about anything except your father. Bill Harford in Eyes Wide Shut.”
Well whose fault is that? I never bring up the subject. His statement leads me into one of my favorite speeches. “My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims, like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy - the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring, we’d make meat helmets. When I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds. Pretty standard really. Dr. Evil in Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery.”
“Oh I see. Luger in Loaded Weapon,” he says in response.
That’s about the wimpiest excuse of a line I’ve ever heard, but why end a game so early? I’ll let it slide by and keep going. But if he can get off that easy, then so can I. “Do you really? Annette in A Night in Casablanca.”
He ignores my question and asks me another instead, “Did you love your father? Palmer in Contact.”
I sigh, “I have told you the story of your father many many times. Ada in The Piano.” I think for a minute, smile a little and then add, “You know, you need a license to buy a dog, to drive a car - hell you need a license to catch a fish. But they’ll let any butt-reaming asshole be a father. Tod in Parenthood.”
He doesn’t pause for long before saying, “Did your mother teach you to talk like that? John in Children of the Corn II.”
I smile. I love being asked what my mother taught me. I say with as much seriousness as I can muster, “Mother always taught me: never eat singing food. Rizzo in Muppet Christmas Carol.” Almost as an after-thought, I add, “Know what my father taught me? Nothing. Cyrus in Con Air.”
“You hate your own father!” he accuses me then says, “Lou in Jungle Fever.”
“I wrote a poem about how much I hate him. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. Anita Liberty.”
“Hate gets under a man’s skin. It spoils his whole life. It’s like a bad growth, kid. You got to get rid of it. Warden in The Cimarron Kid.”
“If hate were people, I’d be China! Phil in City Slickers.”
“But you hate people. Dante in Clerks.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. His response was so perfect. Almost as if he knew what I was going to say. That’s an unsettling thought that pauses me for a moment. Then I realize the ball is back in my corner, and it’s my serve. “I don’t hate people. I just like it a lot better when they’re not around. Henry in Barfly.”
“What do you hate the most? Almasy in The English Patient.”
“I built my whole life on hating my father. All the time he was inside me laughing. James in Detective Story.” Then, just for good measure, I add, “I know you think my dad’s harmless, but you’re wrong. Jane in American Beauty.” This is almost too easy. But then everything changes.
“You’re just like you father: a big, stupid, muscle-headed moron. Mrs. Marcus in It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World,” he says and he’s still smiling.
I refuse to be compared to my father so it’s no more playing nice. I say, “At least I know who my father was, you pig-eating son of a whore! Ahmahd in The Thirteenth Warrior.”
He surprises me totally by continuing the name calling. “Why you slimy, double-crossing, no-good swindler! Lando in Empire Strikes Back.”
I cultivate a French accent and say, “You don’t frighten us, English pig-dog! Go and boil your bottom, son of a silly person. I blow my nose on you, so-called Arthur-king, you and your silly English ka-niggets!” Then I imitate the French knight in Monty Python and the Holy Grail by sticking my thumbs in my ears, waving my hands at him and blowing a raspberry. Dr. Wint does a very admirable job of hiding his laughter.
He comes back with, “Why you stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking nerf-herder! Leia, also in Empire.”
I’m getting angry because he’s remaining so calm and what I can’t believe is that he’s actually keeping up with me. I yell, “You got shmutz for brains! The Crew.”
He catches me off guard by changing the subject abruptly. “Tell me about your mother. Freud in Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.”
My mind takes off on its own, racing though my file of quotes. The sudden change from father to mother and my heightened anger leads me to say, “You look like you just fucked your own mother. Dietrich in Face/Off.” I can hardly believe I just said that. I figure he’s going to declare himself the winner because that response makes no sense with his question. But then, he doesn’t know all the rules, so he lets it go.
He looks at me calmly and says, “I don’t believe you had a mother. Samuel in The Ghost and the Darkness.”
How do I handle that comment? I feel myself freezing up, I can’t think of anything to say. Why am I getting so worked up about this, it’s just a game. Then I catch him smirking; he thinks he’s got me. That infuriates me even more because I never lose that easily! I say, “Well, Mom’s dead, so shut your fly trap. Harold in Drop Dead Gorgeous.” I suddenly feel that this conversation has taken a turn I won’t like.
“How did she die?” he asks. I am so scared about where this line of discussion is going, I don’t even notice he’s stopped playing.
“He’s not pining! It’s passed on!” I say in my best British accent, trying to imitate John Cleese. “This parrot is no more! It has ceased to be! It has expired and gone to see its maker! This is a late parrot! It’s a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed it to the perch, it would be pushing up the daisies! Its metabolic processes are now history! It’s off the twig! It’s kicked the bucket, it’s shuffled off its mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleeding choir invisible! This is an ex-parrot!” I’m nearly hysterical by the end of the speech and I can’t even think straight enough to come up with the name of the movie. My mother’s dead, why can’t he just accept that and move on?
He pauses, searching; he leans back in his chair with a thoughtful look and says, “I never said I was the best father in the world. Give me a little credit will you, credit for being someone who tried to love you the only way he knew how. A slightly edited version of Celeste’s line in Soapdish.”
Maybe it was his cockiness, acting like he knew he already had me beat. Or maybe it was the calmness in his voice. Most possibly it was the line he chose, which said the same thing my father had said almost two weeks ago. Whatever it was, something about his question finally makes me snap. I jump to my feet, ball my hands into white-knuckled fists and scream, “My father killed my mother! I watched him do it! First he had his belt and . . . then she grabbed it from him and he . . . he . . . grabbed . . . “
He grabbed her arm and his belt connected with a slap on her waist. “What were you doing with another man?” he screamed in her face.
Brandon jumped onto his father’s arm, trying to pull the bigger man away from his cringing mother. “Leave her alone, please!”
“Get offa me, you little bastard!” his father yelled and shoved Brandon to the floor. Harry kicked the boy in the stomach and then easily picked him up by the shirt and threw/pushed him over to the wall. Brandon crumpled to the floor, cowering. “And don’t move until I say so!” Harry shouted.
“Please, Harry,” Shannon begged, “Don’t...”
He cut her off with another smack on the butt. “Why did I see you with another man?” he asked again.
“Sean is just an old friend. We were having lunch together, that’s all, I swear Harry.”
When the belt came swinging again, Shannon grabbed it and yanked. The belt flew out of Harry’s hand and across the room, landing behind the couch. With more profanities, Harry punched his wife in the face, and as she fell to the floor, Brandon could see her nose was bleeding. Harry looked around wildly for something else to continue the abuse with before she could get back up, and the first thing he saw was the fire poker. He grabbed that and went back to work.
Brandon curled up as small as he could on the floor, not daring to move or breathe in case his father decided to turn the poker onto him. When Harry grabbed the fire poker, Brandon covered his face with his hands; when Shannon stopped making noises, he peeked through his fingers and immediately wished he hadn’t. Her blood was everywhere, on the floor, on the couch, on his father’s pants and shirt. Harry was no longer just bludgeoning his wife with the fire poker, he was stabbing her with it, screaming the whole time. When Harry’s back was turned to Brandon, the boy crawled out of the room, vomited and then picked up the phone.
I can’t believe he made me tell him that. I hate him for it. I never wanted to remember that night, and somehow this doctor tricked me into just that. Slowly, I realize I am curled up on his couch, with my hands over my face, and I am crying. I think it’s the tears that make me really hate him. “I hate this place! I want to get out of here. I hate you! Get out of my life! I hate you! You’re a bastard!”
Dr. Wint seems almost shocked by my story. It takes him a moment before he responds. “And you have every reason to hate me, Brandon. What are you quoting?”
I sit up, wiping away tears, and mumble, “Burnt Offerings, The Cable Guy, and Billy Elliott.”
“I’m so sorry for what you saw, Brandon. That is not something anyone should have to watch. I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
Yeah, well, I know someone else who’s ‘sorry’ too, but at least he’s paying for it in jail. I get ready to blow off Dr. Wint, but something stops me. I look in his eyes and think that maybe he really is sorry. “It’s called a mistake, Friday. But I guess you never make any of those do you? Pep in Dragnet.”
“I don’t think I make very many.”
“Mrs. Upjohn asks in A Day at the Races, are you sure, Doctor, that you haven’t made a mistake?”
He ponders the question for a moment, and then looks me straight in the eye, and says, “This time? No, I don’t think I have.”
January 4th
I haven’t seen Dr. Wint for over a week. I just can’t bring myself to face him. My main excuse for avoiding him is fear. I’m scared he’ll make me go back to that night again, and I don’t think I can. I want to forget that night, and he just won’t let me do that. If I’m happy in my craziness, why should I let anyone change me?
January 14th
“I was beginning to wonder about you Brandon. How are you doing?”
“I feel like a defective typewriter.”
“Like what?”
“Like Rizzo in Grease. A defective typewriter.”
“And exactly how does that feel?”
“This feels like a game to me, or at least to Ted in eXistenZ.”
“That’s fine for Ted, but what does it feel like for Brandon?”
Pause. “Scary.”
“Why?”
Shifts in chair. “It’s new.”
“What’s new. Feeling scared?”
“No.” Crosses legs. Plays with shoelaces. “Feeling not scared.”
“I’m sorry, Brandon, I just don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
“Of course not, no one understands a crazy person.”
“Brandon, listen. You are not crazy. You are traumatized, scared, still in shock, stressed, alone and most of all depressed, and you are fighting hard to stay that way. If you took half of the energy you used to stay depressed and used it to accept some help, we might be getting somewhere now. Why are you fighting my help so hard?”
Why indeed, I wonder. His words make sense, but I don’t want to believe him. Not yet. I mumble to the floor, “It’s easier to be depressed.”
“Easier?” the doctor says, trying to keep his voice from rising into yelling. “Is it easier to sit at home thinking about nothing while watching TV? Or is it easier to sit here on my couch trying to think of a movie quote I haven’t heard yet while also dodging the painful subject I want you to talk about?” He indicates me on the couch with his hands outstretched and finishes, “You think this is easier?”
Well, when he puts it that way, I suppose he’s right. It would be easier to be at home rather than sitting here trying to deflect his questions. But since I can’t quite bring myself to admit that to him, I start fighting again. “It’s so easy, a trained monkey could do it and it did until that uproar with the Humane Society. Franklin in Carpool.“
He sighs in frustration. “Fine, let that go for now. Let me ask this. How do you see your life right now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know what a metaphor is?” I nod. “What would be a metaphor for your life right now?”
“A pit,” I reply without spending too much time thinking about it. The doctor just nods, so I feel compelled to go on, “A deep pit I’m alone in and there’s no one to help me out.”
“Can you see the top of the pit?” he asks.
“No,” I say, and that thought depresses me more to the point where I feel like I’m going to cry.
“Try,” he says. “Look up and try to see what is at the top of the pit.”
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
“You don’t or won’t know?”
I really don’t like how this is going, so I look him straight in the eye, ready to deliver a zinger of a line just to get him off my case, but I stop. Behind the frustration he felt earlier, I see compassion in his eyes and I finally understand what he has been trying to tell me. I squint my eyes and look up at the ceiling and say, “I see you at the top.” I feel my barriers breaking, but I don’t try to keep them up.
Dr. Wint gets up from his desk and sits beside me on the couch. “That’s right, Brandon, I’m up there throwing you a rope and you just refuse to see it. Do you see it now? Do you see I want to help you out of the pit?”
I nod. “I’m not crazy,” I sputter before I give up fighting altogether and start crying. “I’m not crazy,” I repeat, and I am amazed at how much relief there is in those words.
“No, Brandon, you never were,” the doctor assures me.
“Why do you care so much about me?” I ask.
The question throws him for a loop. His brow furrows, and he stares up at the ceiling. He contemplates the ceiling tiles for a very long time before returning his gaze to me and saying softly, “Because someone has to.”
His words break whatever barriers were left. I allow myself to cry openly and without any shame about the act. My tears fall for my mother, the one person who had ever shown me the empathy the doctor was showing me now; they fall for the father I never knew and the father who couldn’t love me. But mostly they fall for me: In pity for the time I’ve lost living in movies and in hope for a future free from the bleak depression that once plagued me.
