by Curtis Bunn
He would knock out guys so frequently, the story goes, that they heard doorbell chimes before going unconscious. Hence, the nickname. It could have been King Kong, he was so big and strong.
“Buddy, you know I like a good fight story,” he said in a way that I had no choice but to give him the details—or suffer a doorbell chime moment.
On another day, I might have challenged Dong. We had more than one run-in over the previous several months because I was not scared to die, much/less afraid of him. So I did not back down. I got the feeling he appreciated that.
On that day, I gave him the blow-by-blow of my clash with Skip. “I’m glad you kicked his ass. He’s a little racist bastard.”
The word was that Dong was bipolar like me and Chester told me he saw Dong have an episode where he threw a shelter worker over a desk and beat up a police officer. Thankfully, they used a stun gun to get him under control and not a revolver.
I was able to get a pair of khaki pants and a brown polo shirt. They were not new, but they felt and looked new.
“Look at you,” a counselor at the shelter said as I left. “You must have a hot date.”
I turned and pointed at him and kept going. But in a sense, he was right. That therapy session was important. A lot rode on it. And so I got there early and felt nervous as I saw Brenda walk into the lobby.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: CHOICES
BRENDA
My smile must have covered my face when I walked into Dr. Taylor’s lobby and saw Rodney. He looked anything but homeless. He was put together and handsome.
“Somebody got a haircut,” I said. It was not the best way to compliment him, but it was all I could come up with at the time. And he did not respond. My compliment made him uncomfortable.
“Remember what you told me when we first met?”
“What? That your life was shit?”
“Not that part. You said, ‘Blushing is healthy.’ Then you gave me all the reasons why.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember.”
“Good. So I say to you: Blushing is healthy. It’s OK to acknowledge a compliment.”
“Well, actually, a compliment is to say something nice or to praise someone. You just said, ‘Somebody got a haircut.’ Not a compliment.”
“You know, you’re too smart for your own good. OK, Rodney, I love your haircut. I can see so much more of your face. You’re a handsome man.”
He still did not respond.
“You can react now with words or a blush.”
He blushed.
A minute later, Dr. Taylor invited us into her office.
“You both look great. So good to see you,” she said.
“So, does either of you have anything you’d like to discuss today?”
I wanted so badly to speak about Norman, but I did not get a chance to ask Dr. Taylor’s opinion on if I should bring it up to Rodney. So I said, “I’m going to let Rodney decide.”
“Let’s talk about trust and honesty,” he said.
“OK, I like that,” Dr. Taylor said. “Why trust and honesty?”
“Because that’s what’s important to me in people.”
“Do you trust Brenda?”
“I don’t know.”
That surprised and hurt me. “You don’t know?” I asked.
“I want to. I would like to,” he said.
“Why aren’t you sure about Brenda?”
I wanted to hear this.
“She’s changed my life. I should trust her. But, I don’t know. I called her a few times and she didn’t answer.”
“Is that enough reason to not trust her?”
“It is. And it is because she told me she had turned the ringer off by accident. That didn’t sound right, but I believed it because I believed in Brenda. But that didn’t add up.”
I tried to say something, but Dr. Taylor stepped in.
“Do you know that trust is believing in someone, what they say, what they do? And if you are on the fence about trusting someone you care about, you should really be careful. Trust is like a broken vase. You can fix it, but it will never be the same.”
“I know that,” Rodney said. “I read, when I used to read books, that trust was the easiest thing in the world to lose, but the hardest thing to regain. That’s why I’m not jumping the gun.”
“Sounds like you’re talking around something, Rodney,” I said. “What is it that makes you not sure you should trust me?”
Rodney rose from his seat and walked behind the couch we shared. I looked at Dr. Taylor and she motioned for me to remain calm and to let Rodney make his point. I obeyed.
“I haven’t trusted anyone because I don’t like being disappointed. Ask Brenda: When we first met, I was not interested in getting to know her or letting her help me because I didn’t trust people and I didn’t want her help. Trust is earned, not given.
“But she was persistent and she broke through and earned my trust. One doctor said I might be paranoid schizophrenic, that I had tendencies because I didn’t believe anybody really had my best interests at heart—except my wife. Not even other family members.
“But I trusted Brenda—”
“Trusted? So you don’t trust me?”
Rodney walked around to the front of the couch and looked at me.
“Who is Norman?”
My heart stopped. How could he know about Norman? Did he remember that I told him at the park?
“Norman? He’s my friend,” I said. “How do you know about him?”
“Not from you.”
Dr. Taylor sat up in her seat.
“Well, actually, I did tell you about him.”
“No, he told me about him.”
I was confused. He hadn’t met Norman. Was he having an episode?
“Huh?”
“Today, this morning, at McDonald’s, this guy comes up to me and offers me money,” Rodney explained. “I’ve never had anyone just offer money without me asking, so I was like, What’s up with this guy?
“I wouldn’t take his money. He then starts telling me he knows who I am and that you’re his woman. He tells me I can’t do anything for you, that I don’t have a car or house or money, so I need to forget about wanting you.”
I became furious. How could Norman do that? Why would he do that?
“Rodney. . .”
“I had to threaten him for him to leave,” Rodney continued. “And all day I wondered why you hadn’t told me about him. I asked you why you didn’t return my calls and you told me you turned off the ringer. But you were with him, weren’t you?”
My heart pounded. I was so angry at Norman that I could hardly contain myself.
“Rodney, do you want to hear Brenda’s explanation? Maybe there is a reason she didn’t tell you that will help you to continue to trust her.”
“I don’t know if I can trust her. I could tell that guy was telling the truth, which means she was lying to me. Lying is the quickest way for me to lose trust.”
I had so much to say and was not sure how to say it.
“Rodney, I’m sorry. Here’s what I think of trust: To earn trust you have to be trustworthy. And I have been trustworthy with you.”
“So why didn’t you tell me you were dating someone? Why did you lie about where you were when I tried to call you? You in love with this guy?”
There was an inflection in Rodney’s voice and a look in his eyes that sent me a clear message: I had some “splaining” to do—and I’d better get it right.
“Rodney, I wanted to talk to Dr. Taylor about this alone, but did not have the chance,” I began.
“Why?”
“Yes, why, Brenda?” Dr. Taylor asked.
“Because I wanted to make sure I would be doing the right thing by telling Rodney about Norman.”
“You said earlier that you had told him already.”
“That’s right. You did say that,” Rodney interjected.
“I did. Apparently, you don’t remember. It was the day we walked to Piedmont
Park for the food truck festival. I know you said you don’t remember that, but we did.
“We walked and had a great conversation. We sat on the grass and ate salad and sandwiches. And then I told you I had met a guy during my lunch break.
“You stood up and then pointed and said Norman was following you and after you, that he was a spy. I looked behind me to see where you were pointing, and no one was there. And when I turned around, you had started to run away from me, across the field toward the Park Tavern. I sat there with my mouth open. I looked again behind me and saw nothing, no one. And you kept running, looking back, but never stopping.
“I called you that evening and the next day. When we finally talked, you were confused about the day of the week, and you said you didn’t remember anything about our walk to the park. You said you we had done something else.”
Rodney looked at me with a confused expression. “I remember talking to you about it the next day,” he said.
I looked at Dr. Taylor, who instead of interjecting, sat back and listened.
“I promise you, Rodney, that’s exactly what happened,” I said.
“I don’t remember any of it. I don’t. The biggest problem I have with this bipolar thing is there is no telling what will set it off. It frustrates me because I remember dreams—the bad ones—and I have no memory of some things that happen.”
“Dr. Taylor, what could it have been that triggered his response?”
“That’s always hard to say, but in this case, it’s pretty clear: Hearing you had another man in your life was borderline traumatic for Rodney, and an onset of an episode ensued. The fact that he has no cognitive recollection of it says he viewed the information as a threat to him or to his relationship with you.
“Being friends with you has been enormous for Rodney. He let you in—welcomed you into his world, as you put it, Brenda—and hearing about someone else threatened something he not only had come to appreciate, but something he had come to need.”
“If that’s the case, why didn’t I react the same way just now?” Rodney asked.
“Because,” Dr. Taylor answered, “Norman had already told you the information. And the way he told you and when he told you and the fact that he told you and not Brenda cushioned the magnitude of it because you didn’t trust him. Even though you heard what he said and came to believe it, you had your doubts, which allowed you to receive it with less the direct hit it was coming from Brenda.”
“Rodney, I did tell you and would not lie to you. You can always trust me.”
“So why didn’t you tell me again?”
“Because I didn’t want to upset you again. That’s why I wanted some time alone with Dr. Taylor. I wanted her to advise me on telling you again and how I should tell you—and if I should tell you. I don’t like keeping secrets. But I was there. I saw the fear in your eyes when you pointed and said someone was coming. I saw you run with a panic that I had not seen in my life. I was left there hoping and praying for you.
“There was no way I was going to bring that back up without talking to Dr. Taylor first. But, it turns out, Norman approached you, which I just cannot believe.”
“Rodney, what do you think of Brenda seeing Norman?”
“I mean, it’s her life,” he said. “I care about her, so I will say I don’t think that guy is the right guy. Just by the way he approached me, it shows he’s insecure. I have dated insecure women in my life. It’s no fun. You end up resenting them.”
I listened carefully to Rodney. It amazed me that he was bipolar because he made so much sense. That was when the disorder was dormant. I saw it when it rose up, and that freaky my me.
“I can’t disagree with you, Rodney,” I said. “I was hopeful because—and I’m not just saying this—I have found myself in these months hanging out with you. You rebuilt my confidence. I lost weight and gained my self-esteem. But bigger than that was that I began to love myself again and appreciate the fact that I deserve to be happy.
“As for men, I had lost all faith in ever getting one. I really didn’t think about a man because I knew no man would be interested in a depressed woman. But Norman only approached me because I had become a different person than before we met. So, it was important to me that you like him because you made it possible for a man to look at me like a woman again.”
“But why did I run when you told me? Dr. Taylor, what’s that about? I understand I don’t remember it because that’s how it has been with me. When something really bothers me, I’m told I run from it . . . and then don’t recall the incident. But this? Why would I run?”
“I’m so glad you’re asking these kinds of questions, Rodney,” she said, “because that means you care. You care about yourself. You care about what you do. You care about how Brenda sees you, how the world sees you. And that’s not where you were several months ago, I’m hearing.”
“No, he’s leap years from the mean, negative, angry Rodney when I first encountered him,” I said. “It’s been amazing to see the transformation.”
“I’m sure it has been,” Dr. Taylor said. “But to answer Rodney’s very good question, you ran because of something said earlier: Hearing from Brenda that another man liked her pushed you to a feeling of unworthiness. Why would Brenda need me now that she has a man? You didn’t want to hear that, and you run when you hear or see something you don’t want.
“Her dating someone exaggerates your shortcomings. You may not have a love interest in Brenda, but you do feel threatened by the idea of another man becoming more important to her than you or the focal point of her life, partly because they have the requisite amenities: car, house, money.
“Being territorial, in other words,” Rodney said. “Maybe it was about being threatened. In my mind, I would think it was about making sure what we started isn’t lost . . . especially not over that joker.”
Dr. Taylor asked Rodney: “Couldn’t she have both of you as friends? Could all three of you have dinner or drinks together? Would that be awkward? Or fine?”
“I don’t drink. And I don’t spend time with people I don’t like. I don’t trust that guy. And if Brenda trusts him, then she can’t trust me.”
“What? Why does it have to be a line drawn?” I said. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about Norman. I cannot believe he would go and find you and then be so disrespectful, so childish. I’m so angry about that.”
“Yeah, for him to find me means you told him all about me. He didn’t need to know about me.”
“I’m sorry, Rodney. I only shared with him because I thought I could trust him, but most importantly because I’m so proud of our friendship. But I won’t say another word about you to him.”
I had the feeling I was on the brink of having to make a choice: Rodney or Norman. It was a position I did not want to face. Both men meant something to me in different ways.
Norman confirmed I was a woman. Rodney confirmed I was a full person.
And before I could attempt to switch the focus of our session, Dr. Taylor asked a fateful question: “So, Rodney, are you OK with Brenda dating Norman? Not that you have a say in it. I’m asking because when she first told you, there was this reaction that none of us want to happen again. And it won’t happen if you accept that she will have other men in her life. If you understand no one would come between you two, who she dates should not matter.”
I turned to my left, to Rodney. He looked at the floor for several seconds. When he raised his head, he turned to me.
“For someone else, it might not be as hard to trust. I’m different, as we know. I don’t like that guy and so I don’t think he’s good for her.”
“Are you saying it’s you or him, Rodney?”
“I don’t think that’s fair,” I jumped in. “It’s not fair.”
“You’re right, Brenda. It’s not fair. But it is what it is.”
I felt like I was pushed in a corner, and I did not like. But it was not a difficult choice for me.
“If you’re sa
ying I have to choose, then I won’t hesitate and say it’s Rodney,” I said. “My friendship with you has changed my life.”
Rodney’s facial expression did not change. Dr. Taylor’s did. She offered a slight smile.
“How does this make you feel, Rodney?”
“I feel the same way I felt when I woke up on the steps of St. Paul’s Presbyterian this morning. Nothing different.”
“But you didn’t feel that way when you walked into this office today? You had questions about trusting Brenda?
“Hard to say what I felt.”
“Why are you shutting down now? You were much more talkative.”
“I don’t have anything to say. Brenda said it all.”
Then he looked at me and smiled. I smiled back.
“And how do you feel, Brenda? You came in here not expecting to have to make a tough decision, I’m sure.”
“It wasn’t a tough decision. It wasn’t. In the last two years or so, I lost all the people important to me. In the last two years or so, Rodney lost his family. We have that common pain that, once we came together, we have been able to help each other get through—without trying. It just came natural.
“So now he’s the most important person in my life. You’re the most important person in my life, Rodney.”
He looked away. Unless my vision was out of focus, Rodney looked to be tearing up.
“Ditto,” he said softly.
“You guys are something else,” Dr. Taylor said. “I’m proud to be in this room right now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: FRIENDS, INDEED
RODNEY
We did not bring up medication at the last session, but I wanted to. I had the chance. But trusting Brenda was more important, so we focused on that.
And was glad we did. I was not sure what not believing in her would have done to me. She had made me feel positive, made me seriously consider taking medication, something I vowed to never resume.
It was strange to feel positive about my life. You do something long enough—live on the streets, beg people for money, eliminate ambition—and it becomes a part of you. Being homeless had become a part of me.
