I looked for Kate at breakfast but didn’t see her, so I headed to the “Karl Rogers” room, arriving minutes before 9AM. As before, David Sanders was sitting yoga-style on a pillow with his back against the wood wall. A few participants had already arrived.
Over the next few minutes, the workshop filled up. At 9:04, Kate ran in and plopped down next to me, wearing dark-blue leggings and a “Fresno State’ sweatshirt. Her face was flushed and her hair wet. “I took a longer run than I planned,” she whispered.
Cheryl walked in and closed the door.
David sat up. “Before we begin, I want to tell you sad news. Malcolm Eastwick, one of the Satori founders, is dead. There was an accident on Saturday night; Malcolm fell off the deck at the old conference room and landed on the beach rocks. The Monterey County Sheriff’s Department is here investigating the incident.” David sighed. “The detectives will probably want to talk to anyone who knew Malcolm, particularly anyone who saw him on Saturday.” David looked around the room. “They’ll talk to me and Cheryl. Who here knew Malcolm?”
I raised my hand, as did another man I didn’t know.
“How well did you know him?” Kate whispered.
“Not well. He was one of Fiona’s clients. I’ll tell you later.”
“We’ll going to continue to go around the circle,” Cheryl said and checked the roster. She nodded at a middle-aged, brown-skinned woman sitting next to Rory. “Norma, it’s your turn.”
Norma wore black pants and a grey tunic. Her long gray hair was tied behind her back. She looks worn down, I thought. Kate’s roommate scooted forward on her cushion. “My name is Norma Jefferson. I’m a cancer survivor. I had pancreatic cancer and underwent chemotherapy and surgery and survived. For the last four years I have been cancer free.”
There was a round of applause.
“I’m from Portland,” Norma said. “I was married for thirty years to Eugene Jefferson; we divorced several years ago. Our daughter, Sherry, lives in Boston, where she’s going to graduate school.” Norma sighed and clasped and unclasped her thin hands. “It’s hard to talk about.”
“Just breathe and take your time,” Cheryl said.
“Eugene and I were in love when we got married. At least I was,” Norma said. “And we were happy for a while. I worked as a nurse and Eugene as an accountant. We bought a house. Joined a church. Had friends. Parented Sherry.” Norma reached behind her for her thermos, unscrewed the top, and took a sip of water. “Eugene and I drifted apart. We stopped being intimate. Stopped having sex.” Norma blushed and looked at the rug. “I told myself this was normal; told myself I shouldn’t expect more.”
“Then I got sick.” Norma sighed. “By this time, Sherry was at BU. I could drive myself to my doctor’s appointments, but not to chemotherapy; it was too debilitating.” She looked down at the carpet. “At first, Eugene took time off from work and drove me. Then, when I was coming home from a chemotherapy session, I threw up in the car. That night, Eugene asked me to find someone else to drive me. We had a big argument; he said it was too upsetting for him.” Norma began to cry.
Cheryl pushed a box of tissues across the floor to her.
Norma wiped her eyes. “I tried to find other rides with friends. A couple of times I used Uber. Sherry found out about this. Just before I went into the hospital for my surgery, she took a leave of absence from graduate school and moved home to take care of me.” She sighed. “I’m not exactly sure what was said, but while I was in the hospital, Sherry and Eugene had words; when I got home, he was gone.
“Eugene moved into an apartment. Each month he sent me a check. Sherry insisted that I talk to an attorney and, when I was well enough, I did. He negotiated a reasonable divorce settlement.” Norma cried. “Eugene didn’t care much about the money; he just didn’t want to be around me.”
“What an asshole,” Kate muttered.
“Put him on your ‘Earle’ list,” I whispered.
Kate gave me her signature look, her head tilted to one side and grinned. “I smell a business opportunity.”
I stifled a laugh and turned back to Norma.
“Sherry stayed with me until I recovered and then she returned to BU. I sold the house and used my portion of the proceeds to buy a nice condo, downtown. I went back to work at Portland General.”
“One day I realized how angry I was. I had a dream where I had run over Eugene in our car – the car he drives now.” Norma shook her head. “I realized how I had been holding everything inside. It frightened me. I began therapy.”
Norma leaned back, grabbed her water bottle, and took a drink. “I go to individual therapy with Rachel Deavers and group therapy led by her associate, Myrna. The group encouraged me to come here.” She stopped and looked at Cheryl.
Cheryl scooted forward until she was sitting in front of Norma. “You are very brave to tell us your story, Norma. I hear your anger. What other feelings are there?”
“I feel very sad.” Norma teared up. “When I really needed Eugene, he left me.”
“I hear that, Norma.” Cheryl waited to see if Norma had anything more to say. “What are you hoping to get from this group?”
Norma glanced at me. “When Tom talked about Fiona’s death, he said he realized how precious love is.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I survived my cancer because I wanted to live. I want more love in my life.”
“You want more love in your life,” Cheryl echoed.
“Yes. Sherry loves me. My girlfriends love me, but I want more.”
“You deserve more.” Cheryl moved closer and clasped both of Norma’s hands. They sat in silence for several minutes.
“You are very brave, Norma. Would you like feedback from the group?”
“Yes.”
For the next period, participants applauded Norma and shared their experiences in failed relationships. Betrayal is a common theme, I thought.
Kate whispered, “I hope you know how lucky Fiona was to have you stick with her at the end.”
My heart throbbed.
“Loyalty is a rare commodity,” Kate said.
I thought of Malcolm Eastwick and wondered, Who did Malcolm betray?
The group conversation subsided. Cheryl looked around the group. “Any more feedback for Norma?” No hands went up. “Thanks, Norma. You did great.”
Cheryl and Norma scooted back to their places. Cheryl turned to the man next to Norma. “Your turn, Otto.”
The man stood. He was around sixty with a stiff, military bearing, and neatly trimmed gray hair. “My name is Otto Weber,” he said, speaking with a slight accent. “I was born in Germany, near Bremen. I went to University at Heidelberg. My wife, Inga, is also German. I moved here in 1982 to work for Siemens and I have been here ever since. Now, I am retiring.” He reached down and took a drink of water. “Inga wants to return to Germany and live the life of a retired person. I want to remain here and start a second career as a therapist.” He looked around the group. “That’s why I came here; to decide what to do.”
David got up and walked in front of Otto. “I hear that you are being pulled in several directions: stay here or return to Germany; retire or pursue a second career. How do you feel about this?”
“I feel sad.” Otto closed his eyes. “I feel that Inga and I have drifted apart. We want different things; we see the world differently.”
“That’s what I’m hearing,” David said. “Do you have children?”
“Yes, two grown children. Tim and Mia. Both in university.”
“What do they think?”
“They want to stay here. They were born here.”
“What reason does Inga give for wanting to return to Germany?”
“Inga thinks Germany is safer.” Otto clasped his hands tightly together. “She never integrated into American society as much as I did. Inga stayed at home and took care of Tim and Mia. And after they were grown, she joined the German-Lutheran church in Sunnyvale.”
“So, this difference in perspective is not a new development?” David asked. “It sounds like this has been brewing over several years?”
“Yes. Five years ago, we came to a Satori Institute couple’s workshop,” Otto said. “I enjoyed it. Inga did not. I talked to a lot of people. Inga did not. I went into the baths. Inga did not.” Otto kneaded his hands. “We had very different experiences.”
Cheryl got up and walked to where David and Otto were standing. “How was that for you?” she asked.
“It was very upsetting. I tried to talk to Inga about it, but she couldn’t. She does this thing where she, what is the expression ‘turns to stone.’”
“That’s always hard when one couple member wants to talk about a problem and the other doesn’t,” Cheryl said. “Did you and Inga try therapy back in Sunnyvale?”
“Yes and no,” Otto said. “Yes, I tried to get her to go to conventional therapy, the sort of therapy you teach here. No, she wouldn’t attend but suggested that we do ‘therapy’ with the assistant pastor of her church, spiritual counseling.”
“Did you talk to the assistant pastor of her church?”
“We did,” Otto answered. “It was very unsatisfactory for me. He said that we had been ‘joined’ by the church and that was that. He advised us to read the bible together.”
“How did you feel about what he said?”
“I felt that it was not good advice. I was very upset.”
“What did you do about these feelings?” Chery asked.
“I found a therapist in Sunnyvale, Byron Jordan. He’s the one that suggested I come to this workshop.” Otto kneaded his hands. “In fact, it was my experience working with Byron that got me interested in becoming a therapist.”
“So, you worked with him for quite a while?”
“Yes. For several years.”
“And what did you learn?”
Otto’s voice choked and he spoke so softly I could barely hear him. “I learnt that Inga and I want different things from life. I learnt that she is set in her ways. Inga wants to return to Germany and live in a Lutheran retirement community. That’s not what I want.” Otto looked up at the top of the room and then peered intently at Cheryl. “It is very hard for me to say this because Inga is a good person, the mother of my children. Once I loved her as a lover; now I love her as a friend. Once I wanted us to be together always; now I do not mind if we live apart.”
Cheryl moved closer to Otto and placed her hand on her heart. “How do you feel, Otto? Is it a bad thing for you to separate from Inga?”
Otto mirrored Cheryl and placed his right hand on his heart. “No.” One tear rolled down his cheek. “Life is precious. What I’ve learned here is that I need to take responsibility for my own life, for my own happiness.” He wiped one eye with his shirt sleeve. “I believe Inga stopped growing. I do not want to stop growing.”
Cheryl went back to her pillow and sat down. “What do you need from this group?” David asked.
“I think I got what I wanted,” Otto said. “Thank you.”
“Do you want feedback from the group?”
“Yes. I am interested in what they have to say.”
Again, participants applauded Otto and shared their relationship stories. Relationships are hard work, I thought and remembered that Kate and I had to do individual therapy before we felt ready to pursue a relationship. If either one of us hadn’t gone to therapy, we wouldn’t be here now.
“Let’s take a ten-minute break,” David said.
“Wow. That was intense,” Kate said.
“Yes. Good people trying to get the most out of life.”
“Like you and me,” she said.
“We’ll take two more and then break for lunch,” Cheryl said. She addressed an attractive young woman sitting next to Otto. “It’s your turn Julie.”
The woman scooted forward. “My name is Julie Peters.” She glanced at Kate. “I’m afraid this is another Earle story. I’m twenty-five; my mother and I own a horse ranch, outside Whitefish, Montana. We bought it from my father, who decided that he wanted to move to L.A. and become a screenwriter.” She flashed a wry smile. “I graduated from UM as a pre-med in veterinary medicine. I started in the Vet program at Washington State but had to drop out when my mom broke her leg.” Julie paused for a sip of water. “Like the songs say, it’s lonely out there on the prairie. A couple of years ago, I was at a horse show in Missoula, and I met a horse dealer from Bozeman, Glen Sanders. He was ten years older, married, with a kid. We hung out and he told me how his wife didn’t love him anymore, she wanted to move back to Jackson Hole.” Julie teared up. “We didn’t sleep together then, but a couple of months later there was a show in Great Falls, and I saw him there.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I won’t bullshit you guys; I’ve been hit on all my life. I thought I had a pretty sophisticated B.S. detector but somehow Glen got past that.”
Cheryl got up and slid a box of tissues to Julie.
“I thought he loved me; I thought he was going to leave his wife and daughter and come live with me.” She wiped her eyes with a tissue. “Then, three months ago, Glen called to say that we had to break it off. His wife was pregnant, and he couldn’t leave her. So, I realized that I had been had.” She sobbed.
Cheryl slid across the room, close to Julie. “Take your time. Focus on breathing.”
“I feel so stupid. I know you can’t trust men, but I did anyway.”
“I feel there is sorrow and anger,” Cheryl said. “Are you ready to express your anger?”
“I don’t think so. I feel like going into a cave and closing the entrance.” Julie put her hands over her face.
“It sounds like there is a part of you that is angry at Glen and a part of you that is angry at yourself.”
“Uh huh,” Julie’s voice was barely audible.
Cheryl leaned closer. “Are you willing to try something?”
“Uh huh.” Julie moved her hands away from her face.
“If the part that is angry at yourself could talk, what would it say?”
“How could you be so stupid? How could you let Glen fool you?”
“Good.” Cheryl handed Julie a tissue and she wiped her face. “Suppose that a friend told you this story. Suppose that a friend said, ‘How could I be so stupid?’ What would you say to your friend?”
Julie thought as she wiped her face. “I would say, ‘It’s Glen that’s stupid. You are a good person, friend. It’s Glen’s problem that this didn’t work. Glen is a fucking idiot.’”
Several women clapped.
“You’re brave, Julie,” Cheryl said. “How can this group help you?”
“I’m not sure. It feels good to be here.” Julie wiped her face with a tissue. “I’ve been depressed. My mom was worried about me. She’s the one that suggested that I come to this workshop.”
“Smart mom.”
“Yes. Smart and tough. She’s had to make her way in a man’s world, and she’s held her own.” Julie looked at Kate. “You remind me of her. Except that you are more dangerous.”
Cheryl said, “If that part of you that admires Kate’s dangerousness, her lethality, could speak, what would it say?”
Julie smiled, “It would say, ‘Would you mind coming to Montana and taking out Glen?’”
The group laughed.
Cheryl glanced at Kate and then refocused on Julie. “It sounds like you would like some Taekwando training.”
“That would be good,” Julie laughed. “I’d like that.”
“That could be arranged,” Kate said.
“Good,” Julie laughed.
“Is there anything else you need from us?” Cheryl asked.
“I don’t think so.”
Cheryl looked around the group. “Do any of you have Feedback for Julie?”
Several women applauded Julie and shared their “Earle” stories. I thought about Malcolm Eastwick. Malcolm was an “Earle.” Did one of his conquests take him out?
The conversation stopped. Cheryl hugged Julie and they both stepped back to their places in the circle.
“Okay, Theo,” David said. He turned to the man sitting next to Julie. “Your turn.”
Theo stood up. I would have thought him to be in his twenties if I hadn’t noticed the flecks of grey in his black hair. “My name is Theo Wang. I’m Chinese American; born in San Mateo. My father grew up in San Francisco’s Chinatown. My mother came here from Taiwan in 1950. I went to San Mateo schools and then to Stanford. I’m married with two children. We live in Portola Valley.”
Theo scanned the group. “This is difficult. I feel more nervous than I usually do.”
David leaned in. “Take your time. Focus on breathing.”
Theo took two deep breaths. “I’m a physician, an oncologist. I have a practice in Palo Alto.” He sighed. “I have a wonderful family and a successful life, but-” he hesitated and his voice trembled, “-I’ve hit the wall.” Theo looked down at the rug and then fixed on David. “I’ve been very depressed; somedays I can barely find the energy to go to my office. I talked to my wife about this, as well as my therapist. He’s been working with me and suggested I come here.” Theo closed his eyes.
David walked across the room until he was close to Theo. “Oncology is a tough field.”
“Yes. Too many of my patients die.” Theo lowered his voice. “I have to talk to my clients and their families about death all the time.”
David leaned closer. “That must be hard.”
“It is hard.” Theo paused. “It wears me down. I don’t know if I can do it anymore.”
“I’m imagining that you have internal dialog about your situation,” David said.
Theo nodded.
“So, what are these parts saying?”
For the next thirty minutes, David worked with Theo on his conflicts regarding his situation. A part of Theo wanted to leave oncology and another part, his internalized father, felt he should tough it out. I considered that I was lucky because I didn’t have a father part telling me what I should do; my father left my mother when I was five years old and ceased to be a factor in my life. I remembered, years before, seeing Malcolm Eastwick lead a workshop; he’d been a commanding presence. Malcolm was charismatic. He was probably a father figure to some women.
The more I thought about Malcolm’s death, the more convinced I was that it was a revenge killing: Malcolm, the father, was seen to have betrayed his conquest. He screwed over the wrong woman. And she killed him.
David’s work with Theo ended. Several participants gave him feedback.
“Theo,” David said. “Thank you for your hard work.” He looked at Norma, Otto, and Julie. “Thank you all for your hard work. You’ve set a high bar for those who follow.”
“We’re going to break now,” Cheryl said. “We’ll meet again at 2PM. Please be on time.”
The workshop participants slowly rose, as if waking from a trance state. “Let’s have lunch,” Kate said and reached for my hand.