Imaginary Therapy

“It’s me, Moe. Can I talk with you again?”
“Of course. How has the house worked out?”
‘I guess I didn’t qualify for the mortgage. At the last minute, the town wouldn’t build me a house after all. St. James is suing them again, but I’ve spent another year here in hell.”
“I know how much you wanted it to happen,” I said.
“It’s even worse. Now the county says that this place is closed to all visitors. That means I’ll never see LaDonna and St. James again. I think the people here are getting even with me for wanting to leave this place.”
“I’m sure they’ll keep fighting for you. ” I was certain of that.
“They were my last link to acting human. Their visits were the only thing that kept me going. I haven’t worn a pair of pants in three years. Soon I won’t even be embarrassed to be naked.”
“Could there be something positive in that?” I asked.
But Moe had something else in mind.
“I have an idea,” he said. “Since you’re a therapist, maybe they’ll let you visit me. Maybe you can tell them how important it is for me to get some of my things back.”
“I can’t do that. I only speak to clients from my office.” I know he was asking me how much I cared about him.
“It would mean a lot to me right now. It would mean that you don't see me as just a wild chimpanzee.”
“I know you’re not a wild chimpanzee. And I’ll keep trying to help you figure out just who you are.”
“But I am a chimpanzee. Does everything I’ve learned just cover up a dangerous animal inside?”
“Maybe you’re beginning to face the heart of the problem,” I suggested.
“Well let me ask you this. If you did come visit me, would you stick your finger in my cage?”
I looked down at my hand and spread my fingers out.
“I don’t think I would do that, Moe.”

FIFTH SESSION: October 25, 2004