“You know, if you don’t start talking about SOMETHING going on in your personal life, our sessions are just going to remain superficial.”
“OK. Fine. What would make me more REAL to you?”
This is ironic, me asking the fictional character how I can endear my existence to her so that I can in turn endear this writing to you. Makes my brain hurt.
“Do you have any children?”
“No. Well… in my real life I do, but for the purposes of this story, I don’t.”
“Why not? Don’t you think that will offend your kids?”
“As my wife, WHO IS MY WIFE IN REAL LIFE AND NOT HERE I MIGHT ADD, would say, ‘Goats have kids, not people.'”
Let’s play a game of “stump the fictional therapist.” I just scored a point. Woot.
“I prefer to call them ‘children’, not ‘kids.’ The reason I don’t have them is that I don’t know how I will act in this story as it evolves, you know? I want the freedom here, in the fictional world, to be a complete and irresponsible dork.”
“And you are NOT a complete and irresponsible dork in your real life?”
Man, she can be mean. I must be modeling her comebacks after my real wife’s! Youchie.
“Well, it is 4 A.M. and I am up typing this story. That is irresponsible. But I only did it because I was in pain and couldn’t sleep. But mostly, in the real world, I am responsible to a fault and this story is the place I get escape. Muhahahahahahahhhhh.”
“You are a dork.”
“Yes, and I love my kids -”
“Goats have kids.”
“You learn quickly. I love my children, but in this story I wouldn’t want to have to write about how they would react to something I do while I am here that I wouldn’t really do ‘out there,’ you know? This is my escape.”
“Well, thennnn, why make it about you at all? Why not write in the first person, but say your name is Matt, or Brian..or Heinz, or something?”
Heinz. I liked the crisp, bottle-shaking, tangy, tomatoness of it. But, I knew it already had meaning elsewhere. A cold breeze drifted through the window, and all I could say was,”Idunno.”
She had a thoughtful look on her face, but she wasn’t saying anything. I decided to break the artificial silence,”You know what?”
“I should give you a name.”
“That would be nice.”
“What should I call you? Doctorrrrr – ”
“No no no!! Helllll no.” That was so wrong.
“Then you suggest something.”
“Elfrieda means ‘good counselor.'”
“Please, no. Pick something else.”
“OK… I dub thee Dr. Kimberly Thegan.”
“Yup. Your nickname is KT.”
“Well, I am not sure about Thegan, but we’ll see. So, all this therapy has lead to an important question. As my patient, I think I have a right to ask: What is your name?”
Damn. Stumped by an imaginary character. Who get’s the points on that? I guess I do, for being so clever as to make my imaginary character so clever. This story thing is win-win. Everyone should be writing stories.