IF I WERE A BIRD OF PREY
“Your turn.” Robin said, passing the blunt to me.
Robin and I have escaped to a park right at the border of Beverly Hills and West Hollywood. Here we are, laying on the grass, passing the blunt back and forth and enjoying our beers. While the greater part of me still feels like a horny piece of shit, another part of me is letting go and enjoying the moment.
“When I always come around here, I get the strangest vibes.” Robin commented. “Like chills down my spine type feels.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just such a snooty place. I mean, we all know that Beverly Hills is filled with rich empty white people.”
“I live in Beverly Hills.”
“Well, you’re not rich or white.”
“Thanks.”
“But West Hollywood is weird. You still need to have make a good money to live there. More than Hollywood or North Hollywood. Though, not as much as Beverly Hills and it is way more compact in Weho. So, I feel like everyone who lives here are wannabes and extra pissed that they are not living on 90210.”
“Interesting. What gives you that impression?”
“Not trying to be psychoanalyzed right now. But just walking around and talking to people on both ends, it’s obvious. People from Beverly Hills and spot an outsider. It’s not even solely based on how you’re dressed. It is more about your vibe. They can sniff a broke person from a mile away. In Weho it’s not so much about that as it’s about the fact that you don’t see them as shit.”
“Hmmm. I have never thought about it that way. I suppose I do not think that the residents of West Hollywood are particularly special.”
“See what I’m saying?”
Robin is an awfully good conversationalist. I have gone from seeing her as this shy young lady to this colorful soul. Each word that she says is breathed in with so much life that it landed with a punch on me. When she feels comfortable, she lets her inner child out. And in a weird way, it is allowing me to allow mine to play.
“Nice to see you so bright.” I told her.
“What do you mean?”
“Perhaps this has more to do with the setting, but you’ve always come across as more of a contemplative person.”
“You calling me a closed off bitch?”
“Not quite.”
“A little hard to be cheery when I am spending an hour with you digging into my own shit and you are pointing out to me all the ways that I am fucked up.”
“Is that how you really feel?”
“I’m not trying to say that it is your fault. You are just doing your job. And so far, so good. All the same, it is still tough to be able to just spill your guts to a stranger and then have those guts picked for the bits of kale that I had for lunch.”
“Kale? Are you vegan?”
“Vegetarian. I’m not crazy.”
“Yeah, Vegans are a bit hardcore.”
“And impractical. No eggs? No dairy? What is the point of life?”
“I don’t consume dairy?”
“Really? Weird.”
“Not at all. I firmly believe that we’re all lactose intolerant. Dairy always does a number on our bellies.”
“Maybe. But I love Chocolate milk. For breakfast it’s non negotiable along with apples.”
“Well, at least you’re getting your nutrients in.”
“Yeah. So, Doc, why this? Why become a shrink?”
Oddly enough, no one has ever asked me that question before. Not even in the eight years that I spent slaving away in classrooms and being bored to death in countless lectures, none of my professors or peers ever bothered to ask me why I am doing what I am doing. Why I am here. Everyone just assumed that if you were here that you have a good enough reason. Makes sense, no one in their right mind would put themselves through all of that just for a nifty title.
“Well.” I started, needing to drive down memory lane a bit. “My family was a bit fucked up.”
“Not as bad as mine.”
“Not by a longshot. No offense.”
“I would hope so.”
“So, my mother looking back should have been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. I would have diagnosed her as that anyway. My father…he was as absentee as a father who lived with
you could be.”
“Sheesh.” Robin spat out. “Sounds fucked up.”
“I know right? But the thing was, my parents and the bad example that they set for me, how fucked they were, drove me to do this. I needed to examine my life and after that I felt it would be only right to pay it forward.”
Robin just lays there, staring at me like I just revealed something major. In a way, I guess I did just that. Truth be told, I have never been someone who was nostalgic if you will. Looking back into the past is something that simply is not my thing. Forward progress has always been my main focus. Though, in backwards kind of way it is nice to go back and see how far I had come. And I have come
very far.
“That’s wild. But cool.”
“Yeah, I guess I just wanted to work my own shit out and now I can help others do the same.”
“Geez, you’re making me feel bad.”
“Why?”
“I’ve never thought about anything like that. Working on myself and then using that to help someone else.”
“By just by working on yourself and making yourself feel better you are changing the world.”
“What kind of shit is that?”
“When you change, your energy changes. Those ripple effects go through out society.”
“Hmm. Sounds like some whacked out law of attraction theory.”
“Well, it is law, isn’t it?”
“Has it been proven?”
“Just take a look at your current life. If you give it some serious thought you will see that you have a bigger part in what’s in it. Good or bad.”
“Excuse me? Why would I ask for bad shit to come into my life?”
“Most people usually do not allow for bad things to happen into their lives by a conscious decision.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“However, there subconscious mind as an ex of mine so eloquently put it, is a mother fucker. Take a tragedy, most people see it and go “wow, that sucks." And it sure does. Yet, they choose to believe that it was some random freak accident when in fact the people involved were probably dealing with a tremendous amount of sadness beforehand. And their pain collided.”
“So, what are you trying to say?
“There are no accidents. God does not roll the dice.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll have to think about that Albert Einstein.” Robin pointed, surprising me with her knowledge.
Finishing up our beers, I need to head back to the center. Robin and I walk up to one street over from my office. Both more than buzzed, I look into Robin’s eyes for a moment, examining her glassy red eyes. It is interesting. You can say that I should I have already known this, but I see a great deal of pain that hides far off in the distance of her consciousness.
“You’re going back to work?” Robin asked?
“It’s either that or cancel. And well…Beverly Hills is too expensive for a day off.”
“Tell me how it goes during our next session.”
“Will do.”
Robin gives me a nice hug before skating off. Here I am again, watching her leave. I am having a hard time putting my finger on it. But when she is on her board she is no longer bogged down by her problems. She is free. Free as a bird.
Crossing the street, I make my way back to the office when a familiar car pullsup. It is detective Hamza Sabri. Only this time he looks way more serious than before. Then I remember my little kung fu type moment just a few hours ago. My guess is that those two remained unconscious, someone found them, called the police, detective Sabri was on the scene, and connected some dots enough that I became a lead. Impressive.
“Getting back from lunch?” Detective Sabri asked.
“Yeah, great meal at Gyu KaKu.” I responded.”
“Ah yes, good ole Gyu KaKu. Or as I like to refer to them as the diamond in the rough among generic makeshift Japanese restaurants. I love their happy hour. Their mix drinks? To. Die. For.”
“I prefer sipping on some warm sake myself.”
“Keeping it simple works.”
“Nice speaking with you detective.”
“Now hold on, I didn’t come here just to chat. I was at a crime scene ust now. Two young men, grungy looking young men, were knocked out cold at an empty restaurant. You know, the one right next to Whole Foods.”
“Wouldn’t know. More of a Trader Joe’s kind of guy myself.”
“They were beat up pretty good. Not too much blood or anything. However, one of the young men had what appeared to be a dent in his face. Now, I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound like the work of a human outside of Floyd Mayweather.”
“What are you getting at officer?”
“It’s Detective. Too smart to be an officer. How have you been feeling Doctor Anders?”
“Happy to be alive.”
“Isn’t that nice? No sudden fits of anger or anything? No side effects from your accident?”
“None that I am aware of.”
“I see, I see. Okay then Doctor Anders. Have a nice day. Just be careful.”
Detective Sabri gets into his car and drives off. With no evidence he must have realized that there was no point in wasting his time with me. There was no way that I was going to rat myself out. I turn around to walk into the center and Doctor Hillenberg is standing at the door.
“How long have you been there?”
“Long enough.” Doctor Hillenberg said, waving me over. “Come.”
Sitting in Doctor Hillenberg’s office, I look and admire all of the degrees, certifications and awards that he has up. While my office simply had my three degrees, the walls of Doctor Hillenberg’s office is the shrine of a man with a storied career. A weathered one at that.
“Coffee?” Doctor Hillenberg asked, carrying the coffee pot in his hand, pouring himself a cup.”
“Sure.”
He grabs another mug and pours some coffee down for me. Taking a sip, I am impressed. It is a nice French Roast that has cinnamon, cloves, a hint of allspice and honey to mix it all together creating one hell of a tasty hot beverage. Ever since I graduated, I have been slowly weening myself off coffee and caffeine in general. But damn, an exception has to be made here.
“How are you feeling?” Doctor Hillenberg asked.
“Great with this cup of Joe.” I answered, taking another sip. “Amazing, where did you get it?”
“The Hermosa Beach Farmers Market.”
“That’s what’s up.”
“Give it a look sometime.”
“Eh, too white for me.”
“Fair enough. Anyway, Richard, I’m a bit concerned as that was the second time that detective has come here to talk to you.”
“I guess he must be pining for a case.”
“He’s not pining for a case. He has a case. It’s you.”
Allowing that to settle into my consciousness, it hits me, detective Sabri is a lot smarter than he lead on to be. Here I am, believing that he is simple, child’s play if you will. Yet, he is the one gathering intel on me. His game is one of observation with patience. Made sense after all.
“Yeah, it does appear as though he has his eyes on me.”
“Which is his job. So that is why I want to know, what is going on with you?”
“Nothing, I promise.”
“Richard, there are no judgements here. I made it so. You can be open with me. And besides, I have seen a noticeable shift within you that I cannot help but have to address.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Look, I know that you and Zoey have a “thing” going on between the two of you. And honestly, I find it cute. Zoey has not been this relaxed since he began at this practice. Though, the way that you looked at her was, different.”
“In what why?”
“You looked at her like a predator who had found his prize prey.”
I now know that I did not do a good enough job of hiding that away from plain sight. Though, it was not like I had much of a choice in the matter. I literally know nothing about what was happening to me and there is so little known about Demons that the only way that I am going to learn is by meeting another one like me. And what would the odds of that be?
“Lust can be a powerful thing.” I responded back with. “I’m sure that you understand.”
“Understand? I wrote the book on it!” Doctor Hillenberg stated, grabbing a book from his shelf. The title was “The Lust that drive you” written by him of course.
“No way.”
“Sex has always been what’s on everyone’s mind. It is only a matter of to what degree. However, the way you looked at her looked more…primitive if you will.”
“I might have skipped breakfast that morning.”
“I know with this whole Demon pandemic going on that you don’t want to get caught up in all that nonsense. I get that, I really do. But Richard, you must consider your health first and foremost. For the good of your patients. For your own good as well.”
There is no denying, Doctor Hillenberg is more than correct. I am being reckless not taking better care of myself. I am simply not taking this seriously. My honest thoughts on the Demons are one that is grounded in conspiracy. That the government is only using this as a way to get people into fear and make more money. It is a way of denying what has changed within me.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“I know I am. I have done this decades before you were a twinkle in your father’s eye.”
“I guess you can say I have felt different. Not bad, but different.”
“And there is nothing wrong with that. Everyone goes through some shifts. When I was studying Buddhism in China and Japan I remember how my solar plexus charka would shoot up fire into my heart Charka and I would begin to wonder why I was having this prolonged heart burn.”
“You think that this has something to do with my Charkas?”
“Maybe. I am not that kind of Doctor. I do have a good friend of mine who is.”
“You mean a witch doctor?”
“No, a medical doctor. Why don’t you go see him today?”
“But I have patients.”
“I’ll reschedule them for you. Take the afternoon off. Take care of yourself.”
“Okay.” I said, going towards the door. “Will do.”
“Oh, and what kind of weed was that?”
Within an hour I find myself waiting in one Doctor Leonard Stevens’ office. It is a small, but kitschy office. With its yellow exterior, blue interior, wonky shaped lamps, and different gothic cartoony medical paintings on the wall, it is as if Tim Burton and Ronald Dahl both threw up here at the same time.
Doctor Stevens then busts through the door like Kramer. He is a rather quirky looking man. About 5’6, short hair, glasses, his lab coat is green, his scrubs are purple. His shoes are red. He is coming off less like a doctor and more like a character straight out of Alice in Wonderland.
Checks out.
“Richard?” Doctor Stevens asked, his voice being quite a big more masculine than what I was expecting to hear.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Doctor Stevens. Nice to meet you. You’re Wilson’s new protégé eh?”
“I guess you can say that.”
“My advice, learn from him as much as you can. Wilson is an ocean of knowledge in just about every capacity of life.”
“He certainly is an O.G”
“An O.G? Like weed?”
“An O.G like an original gangster.”
“Oh, I haven’t seen that movie yet. Any who, what seems to be the trouble?”
“I had an accident last weekend and I have been feeling off…”
“What happened?”
“Well, it was between a woman and I…we were about to have sex…”
“Ah, say no more. Role playing gone wrong.”
Doctor Stevens is something else. For a doctor he is very chatty. He must be bored as I can imagine most of his patients are here to be in and out and probably do not want to engage much. If anything, I can envision his patients looking at him and going “what in the hell…can you just hop to it please?” But hey, we have all got to entertain ourselves in one way or another.
“Not exactly. But I am concerned about a few things.”
“Such as?”
“Just some changes in my behavior. I feel more, for lack of a better word, primal.”
“Primal? Now that is a first. Let us run some tests.”
First is the basic stuff. My blood pressure is taken, eyesight and hearing examined, reflexes are looked at, throat is checked out as well. Doctor Stevens does some blood work on me and sends it over to the lab. It is already an hour and I begin to remember why I never went to the doctors. The lollipops do not make me feel better about the amount of time spent anymore.
“The results of the blood work should be available in a few days.” Doctor Stevens informed me. “Though I must say, from where I am sitting, I cannot find a single thing wrong with you. If anything, you are in great shape. 20/20 eyesight, excellent hearing, reflexes are on point, you aren’t showing signs of coming down with anything either.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“We all tend to hold more tension in our bodies than what we are aware of. It sounds as though you have gone through a lot recently, so it is perfectly normal that your body would react in a tensed-up way. Just relieve yourself so to speak. The blood work should be more conclusive. Until then, just take it easy you know? Don’t stress yourself out. Do something that is light and easy. Relax.”
“You think that I’m tense?”
With that, I leave Doctor Stevens’ office and head on home. He has basically, delivered a clean bill of health to me. It is funny how we always assume something is wrong with us when there is something unique that is occurring inside of our bodies. When in fact it sounds as if I am in better shape than ever.
I go into the Trader Joes that is at the bottom of my apartment to pick up some groceries. I love the alcohol selection at Trader Joe’s. Really, I love all of Trader Joe’s choices. From their meats, pastries, even their cereal. I am not much of a fan of their produce; I will say that. Outside of that, it is a true paradise for those of us who do not feel at ease with going into a Whole Foods.
I grab a bottle of red wine, a packet of organic steak, a two and half pound bag of Basmati rice, two packets of Sushi, a packet of Vegan chocolate chip cookies as well as a bag of chips with a bottle of organic Habanero sauce. I adore their Habanero sauce. It is the only hot sauce that I could find in L.A that rivals anything from San Diego or Mexico.
Standing in line, I start to think about David Foster Wallace’s speech/essay called this is water. At this point in my life I had become decently efficient with controlling the thoughts that came in and went through my consciousness. I do not have the mind clutter that way too many people have allowed themselves to become accustomed to.
What I now want to ponder is what am I going to fill that space with? I have been so on the go since graduating high school to get to this point that I have never stopped to even acknowledges that roses exist, much less to stop and take the time to smell them. If it weren’t for Doctor Hillenberg’s watchful careful, I would have never been able to self-reflect on how little I in fact self-reflect.
A big thing that is going through my mind is “have I been happy through the years? Or have I only been unaware? And what is the difference? Those weekend nights in college when I would get drunk, I thought those were nights were all fun and games. Yet, I can see how in fact they all were about drowning out the sounds of self-hate that were wanting to be voiced. The sad
thing was, I still believe that those sounds are somewhere in the back, not feeling Satisfied or satiated.
“Found everything okay sir?” The gentleman at the cash register asked me. I had zoned out in thought so quickly that I had forgotten that I was even in line.
“Yeah, for sure.” I replied, not wanting to sound spacy. “Thank you.”
I left Trader Joe’s and begin to head upstairs to my apartment. I take the stairs as I have always have had a fear of elevators ever since I was a child. I watched some hokey I.D style show once where a woman who had an elevator in her home ended up trapped in it. That was enough for me to say “nope, I’m good.”
Getting to my door I am prepping myself for the night. I am going to going to pour myself a glass of wine from this bottle that I had just gotten. “Red Wish” was the name of the brand. Then I will cook my dinner and start a new book. It is between Men Without Women and For Whom the Bell Tolls. It may not sound like much, but this is actually my favorite part of the day. It is my alone time.
“Richard?” A familiar Feminine voice said.
Turning my head, my eyes must to be deceiving me. It is Hayley Waldo. My high school girlfriend. She looks better than ever. Still the same dark brown hair, stunning blue eyes, and a great figure. Her style is now a mix between country and hipster, wearing a green beanie.
“Hayley?” I replied with.
“Long time no see huh?”
And now my life is really turning upside down.
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