The following week, Caleb was late for his session. He called ahead and Richard explained that it wouldn’t be a problem.
“I’ll get the next client in early and you can take her four-thirty session,” explained Richard. “The last one of the day.”
Caleb heaved a sigh of relief. The traffic was horrendous, but at least the pressure was off now.
He arrived half an hour later, which meant he had another fifteen minutes to wait until his session. He flicked through some magazines, but, as always, they were never magazines an ordinary person wanted to flick through. The copies of Psychology Today, Interiors, and Architectural Digest were obviously Richard’s since only a person who charges a hundred and eighty dollars an hour would read them in the first place.
As four-thirty approached, Caleb felt strangely tense. What did Doctor Johannsen have in store for him today? More nudity? His cock began to stir at the thought. If only. The minutes ticked by more and more slowly. Caleb kept looking from his magazine to the closed door and back again. Finally, he heard a click. The door opened and there were voices. First, a middle-aged woman appeared, all smiles and gratitude, and then Richard, who winked at him. They walked to the small reception desk, where the woman paid her fee. They made an appointment for the following week and Richard escorted her to the door.
“Caleb,” he said as he turned. “You made it.”
Caleb got to his feet and shook Richard’s hand. “I did. Thank you for swapping my appointment.”
Richard guided Caleb into the office.
“You seem happier this week,” said Richard, gesturing for Caleb to take a seat.
“I guess I am. Slowly it happens.”
Richard laughed. “I’m glad things seem to be working out for you. Now, tell me what you did over the past week that made you happy.”
“Well, I did two things. First, I went to the cinema again, but it ended up not making me happy. It ended up being stressful.”
“Why was that?”
“People talking. People using their mobile phones. Someone was throwing popcorn. A bunch of kids were up the back, screaming at all the scary parts. I mean, exaggerated screaming. It ruined the whole experience for me. I like to lose myself in a movie. Lose myself in the story. There wasn’t much chance of that happening with an audience like that.”
Richard, as always, was making notes.
“Then on Sunday, I drove out to the hills and took a walk in the forest.”
“And that made you feel happy?”
“It always does. In fact, if I had enough money, I’d buy a place somewhere in the country and move there for good.”
“That sounds like a goal to me. It’s good to have achievable goals.”
“I don’t know how achievable it is.”
“You’re still young. Work hard and save your money. You never know what you can achieve.”
Caleb wasn’t convinced. Not in the current economic climate.
“Today is going to be difficult,” said Richard. “I want you to sit for a moment and think about what I’m about to ask you, then I want you to speak. I want you to tell me your most painful memory. The one thing that’s perhaps too painful to talk about is the thing I want you to talk about.”
Caleb had so many to choose from, though it didn’t take him long to come to the one memory that could still have him sobbing like a child; still conjure up feelings that were raw and severe.
“When I was five-years-old, I was given a dog. A little corgi. I called him Tango. I can’t remember why. I think I’d read a book where the dog’s name was Tango.” Caleb inhaled deeply. “Anyway, Tango was my responsibility. I had to feed him, with my mother’s supervision, and she and I would take him for walks around the block. Tango and I became as close as two friends can get.
“One day, years later—I think I was about eleven or twelve-years-old—my family and I went away on a shopping trip. Naturally, we left Tango at home. We usually took him with us to the seaside on our summer holidays, but this was just a day trip and we’d be home in time to give him his dinner.”
Caleb could feel the emotion building in his chest, tightening and threatening to explode. He could feel the tears ready to flow. He inhaled deeply and the breath came out in shaky instalments.
“When we got home, Tango was nowhere to be found. Mum said he’d probably dug a hole under the fence somewhere to go looking for us and that he’d soon come home when he was hungry.” Caleb paused. “Only he never came home. I could barely sleep that night, thinking about where Tango was and wondering if he was alright. I imaged he’d been hit by a car and was lying injured by the side of the road somewhere.
“The next morning, I was up earlier than I’d ever been up before. I think the sun had barely made it over the horizon. I got on my bike and began searching for Tango. I rode up and down the surrounding streets, calling his name as loudly as I dared. I didn’t want to wake anyone. It was a Sunday, I think.
“When I had no luck on my bicycle, I returned home. At the back of our place was a large area of bush. It’s been developed since then, but back then, it was natural bushland and I often used to play there.
“I don’t know what made me think to look there, since I’d never taken Tango with me into the bush, but I went anyway. It didn’t take long for me to find him. As soon as I saw him, I could tell he was dead.” Hot tears spilled from Caleb’s eyes and streamed down his cheeks. “His eyes were open and his little tongue was hanging out of his mouth. His fur looked matted and there were traces of blood.”
For a moment, the emotion overtook Caleb and he found it difficult to go on.
Richard remained silent, a sympathetic expression on his face.
“I knelt and began to stroke his fur and talk to him. I told him I was sorry. I began to shake my head. I couldn’t comprehend why people hated me so much that they’d kill my dog. There were sticks nearby and the grass had been trampled. It didn’t take a detective to figure out what had happened.” Caleb took a moment to blow his nose and wipe his eyes. “What had I ever done to anyone, anyone at all, to deserve this? I wasn’t a bad person. I didn’t hate anyone. I didn’t harm anyone. I just couldn’t comprehend it.
“All I wanted to do was lie down next to him and die. I knew it was my fault he was dead. I felt as guilty as if I’d done the deed myself. If I hadn’t been so hated, so outcast, this would never have happened.”
Caleb sniffed and blew his nose once more. “You know, I never told my Mum. I dug a hole right there in the bush and buried him. I picked some wildflowers and covered him with them. I said a prayer—the only one I knew—The Lord’s Prayer. I told him how much I loved him and how I was going to miss him. I was so upset, I could barely see well enough to bury him.
“I sat with him a while longer. I guess I didn’t want to leave him alone in the bush. And when I felt ready, I returned home.”
“And you never told your parents?” asked Richard.
Caleb shook his head.
“Why do you think that was?”
“I was ashamed. I didn’t want them to think their son was a loser, and if I told them what had happened to Tango, I would’ve had to tell them why. It would’ve been too humiliating.”
“What would you say to the people who did it?”
“I know who did it,” said Caleb, hearing the hatred in his voice. “The next day at school, one of the boys, Darren, asked me how my dog was. He’d barely ever spoken to me before, and the way he’d asked, with that…that stupid bloody smile, told me he’d been involved.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. What could I do? It was my word against his. And God knows what hell I would have copped if I’d got him into trouble.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Powerless. Angry that they’d get away with what they’d done.”
“But that was your choice, wasn’t it? Not to tell anyone. Perhaps you could have got justice for Tango. If not from your parents or the teachers, then from the police.”
Caleb glared at Richard. “I just told you, I couldn’t tell anyone.”
“And that was your choice.” Richard leaned forward. “I don’t mean to antagonise you, Caleb. I mean to help you think about things in a different way. Whether you like what I say or not, I say it only to help you.” He sat back in his chair. “What would you say to those boys, or the men they’ve become, if they were here right now?”
“I’d ask them why they did it. I’d ask them why they hated me so much that they’d do such a vile thing. I’d ask them if they were sorry.”
Richard nodded. “Good questions. What do you think they’d say?”
Caleb considered the question carefully before he answered. “I don’t think they’d remember why they did it.”
“But imagine they could. What would they say?”
Caleb shrugged. “They probably did it because they knew it would hurt me. Upset me.”
“And it did”
“Of course, it did!”
“And still does, by the looks of things.” Richard placed his pad and pen on the table and crossed his legs. “I want you to imagine that I’m one of those boys. Darren, wasn’t it? Tell me what you’d tell him. Don’t hold back.”
Caleb felt silly, but he could see Richard wasn’t going to let him off the hook.
“You fucking arsehole! I hate you for what you did,” he growled.
“What did I do, Caleb? Tell me why you hate me.”
“I hate you for killing my dog, you low-life motherfucker! For killing an innocent animal because you hated me. I hope you feel bloody guilty. I hope you carry that guilt for the rest of your life and that it eats away at you and makes you bitter and unhappy. You were a nasty, nasty person. I hate you.” Caleb thought he had cried all his tears, but more came, rolling down his cheeks and spotting the fabric of his shirt. “How could you kill someone’s dog? How could you take it away and do God-knows-what to it and still live with yourself?”
“And what do you think Darren would say in return?”
“He’d say he was sorry. He’d say they were only kids and they didn’t know any better.”
“Would you believe them?”
Caleb hung his head. At first, he wasn’t sure whether he would. People would say anything to paint themselves in a better light. Then, upon further reflection, he decided he probably would believe them. He understood how cruel kids could be, and now that they were adults, he imagined that they, like he, would look back on their childhood and regret the bad things they had done.
Caleb nodded.
“You see, when you confront these things, Caleb, when you deal with them, they cease to have any power over you.” He stood, which made Caleb glance at the clock. It was past time. He stood as well. “You’ve been very brave, Caleb. For homework this week, I want you to write to yourself as a teenager and give yourself some advice.”
“Some advice?”
“Yes. Based on everything you’ve learnt in the past few weeks, I want you to help yourself as a teen. But I want it to come from the heart. Don’t just write something you think I might be pleased with. It has to be raw and honest. Don’t hold back. Imagine you’re desperate to help this young man—the young man you were.”
Caleb nodded tentatively. He knew this was going to be the most challenging, by far, of all his homework assignments.