by Rob Summers
Chapter 12 The VEDs
“We are first and foremost victims,” Dr. Blamer explained to the support group. She looked around the small circle and focused on a man in a finely tailored suit. “Mr. Pretense, would you agree?”
“Oh yes,” he answered pleasantly. “No doubt of that. That’s why we’re here, to clear away anything that obscures what’s really happened to us.”
“And that, of course, will be done quickly and easily,” said the woman next to him with a smirk. She kicked at her chair’s metal leg. “Can you cure me tonight, Dr. Blamer?”
“We will make progress, Miss Sarcasm.”
The Victims of Emotional Disorders, or VEDs, were met for their once a week evening session in an antiseptic room of the Mammon Mart Community Clinic. They sat on molded-plastic chairs, some clutching copies of Dr. Blamer’s book, a brightly colored paperback with the title Your Pain, Their Shame.
Dr. Blamer turned her emotionless, blurry eyes to the next person around the circle. “And who, Confusion, has victimized you?”
Tall, lovely Miss Confusion smiled warmly. “Why, simply everyone! Never once, Dr. Blamer, have I been treated fairly. Yet I don’t complain, for nothing in life becomes us like serenity.”
“And yet, Confusion,” Dr. Blamer said, “you are not the woman you might have been, had you been given the right opportunities. In the weeks that we’ve been getting to know you, we’ve learned that you have been fired again and again from positions such as counselor, office manager, interior decorator, realtor, and so forth. Finally, you became a church secretary, a position far below your ambitions.” The doctor turned to the others. “How should Confusion feel about that? Should she feel serene? Mr. Selfishness?”
Owlish little Selfishness, with legs thrust out, seemed to be admiring the toes of his shoes. “I didn’t come here to solve her problems,” he said with a laugh. “Look, last year I was supposed to take over the management of a nice estate in town, Pride’s place, and it all fell through. The City let me down, the Heavenly Embassy interfered, and even Worry here didn’t come through for me. Well, at least Confusion here has a job, which is more than I can say.”
Pudgy, pouting Miss Worry added nothing to this, so Dr. Blamer addressed her. “Worry, you still live in the house Selfishness mentions, live there rent free I understand, while Selfishness has a tiny room at the ‘Y.’” The doctor paused, allowing the accusation to go unspoken.
“I live under siege in my own room!” Worry said, almost in tears. “They mock me, especially the children. And that Mr. Humility won’t allow a lock on my door, either. I have no rest there, no peace. But where else am I to go?”
“That makes three of those in our small group who have been victimized by Mr. Dignity and his foreign friends,” said Dr. Blamer, “for Confusion has told us that she once lived there and was thrown out. Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if, in the end, Mr. Dignity reaps what he sows. You can’t drive people into desperation and then expect no consequences, no retaliation. But here is yet another group member who has seen the inside of Grace House. Good evening, Bits. Have you brought someone new?”
Bits was just entering with Reason behind him. “Guten abend, all!” he sang out cheerily. “Sorry I’m late. I’ve been trying to persuade my friend to sit in with us, and she finally came.”
Reason looked around the circle with consternation. Unexpectedly, here were three people she knew and did not like. Worry and Selfishness were bad enough, but ever since she had first met her, Reason had loathed Confusion. Her talk grated on Reason like the screechings of alley cats. But at least cats offended only the ears, while Confusion’s twisted words and thoughts were insults to the human mind. With her every utterance a blasphemy against meaning itself, Confusion offended Heaven and earth. Still, Reason did not leave, for it would have been rude, and besides, Bits had given her a ride.
When the others had made room for them in the circle, scooting more chairs into position, the doctor asked Bits to make introductions.
“What can one say about an old friend?” he said airily. “She’s Reason. She’s lovely, exciting, expecting, and wonderful company. Married to someone else, of course.”
“And victimized?” Blamer prompted.
“Sadly so, yes.”
“What a surprise,” put in Sarcasm.
“Tell us about yourself, Reason,” said Dr. Blamer, “and keep in mind that anything said here is strictly confidential, and that other victims are sympathetically ready to listen.”
Reason cradled her rounded stomach and looked at the floor. “I hadn’t expected to see acquaintances here,” she said. “Worry and Selfishness—and Confusion.”
“They are all victims like you,” said the doctor. “They’re attending these weekly meetings to get better.”
“Well, of course I don’t mean to imply that they shouldn’t be here,” said Reason. She lifted her gaze a bit. “I would want them all to get help.” With an effort she turned to Confusion. “I expect you’re still mad about, you know, getting thrown out.”
“I never was,” said Confusion brightly.
“Do you mean,” said Reason, hesitantly, “that you never were mad, or that you think you were never thrown out?”
“Dear me,” said Confusion, as she smoothed her long brown hair, “just think how long it’s been! What would you think in my place? Hundreds of people have had the same thing happen to them. No need to labor the point, I’m sure.”
“Wh—what point?” Reason said.
“Let’s move on,” said Dr. Blamer. “Reason, you were going to tell us what brought you here. What is it that’s troubling you?”
Reason looked at Bits and forced a small laugh. “Nothing terribly deep. And actually, my own husband is a counselor, so I could go to him, but I haven’t had much chance to see him lately. He’s very busy. What’s troubling me? Nothing really, that’s just it. I have nothing to complain about at all.”
“Sounds like suppression,” said Selfishness.
“Oh no, she simply has no troubles,” said Sarcasm.
“Go on,” Dr. Blamer said quietly to Reason.
Bits pressed her hand.
“It’s only that I’m feeling depressed lately because I was trying to make a move to a writing career,” she said with a laugh, “and it hasn’t been working out. The way I see it, I should take this attitude—”
Dr. Blamer held up a palm. “Pardon me, wait a moment. It’s a mistake to adopt a certain attitude or philosophy prior to identifying the cause of your trouble.”
“Oh, that,” said Reason. “It’s my own fault. I—”
She was interrupted by laughter from around the circle.
Dr. Blamer smiled a clinical smile. “One of the first things we learn here is to avoid the phrase ‘It’s my fault.’ It’s a cop out and has become a bit of an insider’s joke with us. Now Reason, we want to draw out something deeper. We want you, if you can, to plainly name who it is that is thwarting your growth as a person. Who’s the enemy? Who is warping you?”
Some of the group members leaned forward. All looked sympathetic.
“I—I don’t know,” Reason said. “Things just haven’t worked out.”
Two or three in the group laughed again.
“Cop out number two,” said Selfishness. “Come on Reas’, get it off your chest.”
Reason looked around wide eyed. She began to cry a little. “I just feel so let down.”
“Who has let you down?” the doctor asked.
“Well, we’ve had troubles with Obscurity.”
“We have a name, then. Obscurity failed you?”
“No, no,” Reason waved that away. “I never expected anything from her but just hoped she’d leave us alone. That’s just the problem. She’d be gone by now if certain people I care about had done as I expected.”
“Give us the names,” said Worry.
“I don’t want to criticize him,
” Reason said, “but I’ve talked to my husband Truth a bit lately. Not much, because it seems our schedules are always conflicting. But anyway, he’s told me that he won’t try to get the Embassy to help with my book.”
Since the group had not heard of The Pride Story, Bits briefly explained the background of the book. “Another classic gets buried,” he added. “Another author doomed to work at the Mammon Mart.”
“And the someone at the Embassy that your husband might have influenced,” Dr. Blamer persisted, “who is that? The Ambassador?”
“Yes, of course, he might have helped,” Reason said emphatically. “He can do anything, but...he didn’t.”
“He let you down.”
“Yes, he did. But don’t get the wrong idea.” Reason’s dark eyes widened. “I don’t mean that there isn’t some rationale. There must be. Our King, if you’ll pardon my mentioning Him, sees the big picture. It’s impossible to imagine why He’s holding back, but—”
“This King,” said Blamer, “is the ultimate cause of your troubles? Is he the one denying you a career?”
Reason compressed her lips and nodded.
“Then say it. Say it right out, Reason. You need to get it out. What is His name?”
Reason stared for a few seconds and then crumpled, sobbing, against Bits’ shoulder.
“That’s right, get it out,” Dr. Blamer said. “You take your time and cry. We have plenty of tissues here. In the meantime, we had better move on to role play. Today, let’s do ‘Let Them Have It.’”
The group’s regulars expressed approval of this exercise. It involved two people, in this case Bits and Sarcasm. Bits would play himself, while Sarcasm played the part of Bits’ father Mr. Brooding. Miss Sarcasm put on a stiff manner and a stern face.
“Hullo, Dad,” Bits said.
“Hello, son,” said Sarcasm.
“Well, you’ve always wanted me to have everything, Dad, and now I want you to have something.”
Sarcasm emitted a masculine, “Hmm?”
“You see, Dad, you always held me back. You did! You never had any real confidence in me. Anyone could see that.”
“Of course, I had confidence in you, Bits,” said Sarcasm. “Lots of confidence.”
“A fake!” said Bits. “If you had really loved me and supported me, I wouldn’t have had my nerve problems.”
“I didn’t love you? I didn’t support you?” Sarcasm said archly. She rolled her eyes. “I suppose you’ll say I paid more attention to my job and to TV.”
“That’s right! Always your job, always TV or mom or something. Dad, you ruined me. You pampered me and ignored me and then threw me into a tough, ugly world and left me to sink or swim!”
“You can’t mean it. I? Next you’ll be saying I never wanted you and that I’m sorry you were ever born. What’s happened to you, Bitsy? Why don’t you just take some medication?”
Bits was almost on his feet now, shouting. “You’re my enemy, and you’re driving me to suicide!”
“But son, I...”
“Well, drop dead, Dad! That’s right, I said drop dead!”
After a pause, Bits more or less fell back into his chair. Sarcasm relaxed into her own person.
“Well done,” said Pretense.
“Good, good,” said the others.
Beside Reason, Bits looked glassy eyed and shaky.
In mild shock Reason looked around the circle. “And that’s supposed to make him feel better?”
“Nothing in nature happens all at once,” Dr. Blamer answered. “Flowers bloom slowly, trees grow slowly. With much counseling and visits to this support group, Bits will thrive. We’re also trying to help him with a special diet.” She looked at the clock. “There’s time for another. Who will be next? Reason, why don’t you try it? And—um—Confusion, will you be the Heavenites’ King? Thank you. There, turn your chairs to face each other, that’s right. Reason, just speak what’s on your mind. You can ‘let him have it.’ There’s no danger. Just say it right out.”
Reason looked at Confusion, whose face had become beamingly idiotic.
“Go ahead,” the doctor prompted.
Reason paused for a long time and finally mumbled, “Uh, I’m not all that happy with You.”
“Oh, my dear child,” said Confusion, “how can you say that? I love you.”
“No, no,” Reason stammered, “not me. You’re not, You’re not there when I need You. What about my book? That was all for You, and we worked on it for months and months. Why aren’t You getting it published for me?”
Confusion smirked and smoothed her dress. “Now, don’t you remember that I’m omniscient? How can you argue with me, dearest? I know what’s best.”
“Really? Then tell me,” Reason demanded. “Tell me what’s wrong with The Pride Story. Why are You holding it back?”
Confusion momentarily slipped in her role by looking to Dr. Blamer.
“You’re God,” the doctor prompted. “You have your own agenda.”
“I just have other priorities,” Confusion said to Reason. “Nothing personal, and I’ll get to you as soon as I can.”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” Reason snarled. “You’re no good at this or anything else. You’re a phony, a pathetic phony and you always have been. That’s why I’ve always hated you and why I tried to get rid of you.”
“But you must love Me, dear,” said Confusion. “You have to show respect for Me, regardless.”
“No, you’re a driveling idiot, and I wish you were dead!” Reason shouted.
Both paused and Dr. Blamer led in light applause. “Excellent for a first time, Reason,” she said. “It’s as I said before. First you identify what is troubling you, and then you adopt the proper attitude. When you see that your King is your natural enemy, then you wish Him dead.”
Reason had settled back with a stunned expression. “No, I don’t wish that,” she said weakly. “He’s the King of Glory. How could I wish that about Him?”
“She’s suppressing again already,” Selfishness said.
“And you just did wish it,” said Bits at her side.
“I did?” Reason looked puzzled. “Oh, you mean...no, I’m afraid I broke character, I lost my head, I—”
“You told Jesus exactly what you think of Him,” Bits said.
“No,” she whispered. “I told Confusion exactly what I think of her.”
