King of All I Survey
Chapter 66: Rafael Tries not to Kill his Therapist

Chapter 66: Rafael Tries not to Kill his Therapist

That evening, we sent Rafael to his first therapy session. He stepped out the front door with Maribel and Luis, directly into a LITV that put them in the simulation room here at headquarters. From their perspective they walked over to a waiting car, got in. Luis drove them to the office of the therapist in Guatemala City. He parked the car and the three of them got out, went into the building and arrived at the door to the therapist’s office.

In reality, they moved within the small confines of the Simulation Room. A combination of holographic images and sensory input implanted into their brains made them experience the simulation as if it were real.

Maribel knocked on the door. After a moment, it opened. A man with graying hair and eyeglasses stood there, holding the doorknob in one hand. He glanced at their faces. A light of recognition came into his eyes when he saw Maribel. "Miss Flores, how are you this evening?" He asked cheerfully. Looking at the others, his gaze stopped on Rafael. "Ah, Mr. Camal de Leon, I recognize you from the television. I think you must have the most famous face in Guatemala at the moment." He smiled and gestured for them to enter, "Aside from Miss Flores, of course."

They entered what appeared to be a small waiting room with several upholstered chairs, and a small coffee table with a selection of magazines. "I am Doctor Juan Torres, Mr. Camal de Leon, I understand that you and Miss Flores feel that I can be of some assistance to you. Shall we go into my office for a little privacy? I assure you that anything we discuss will remain in the strictest confidence." He smiled and reached up to remove his glasses as he opened the door to his inner office. "I think, perhaps, we have that in common. We are both required to keep secrets in our professions.

Rafael glanced at Maribel. She nodded in encouragement. "Jose is a trusted friend of my family, Rafael. You can trust that anything you tell him will remain absolutely confidential. Even I could not pry a patient’s secrets out of him."

"Shall we begin?" Dr Torres asked again. Rafael walked into his office and looked around. It was much as he imagined a therapist’s office would look. A desk off to one side, a large, overstuffed chair with a small table beside it sat across from another slightly smaller chair and a larger sofa. The larger chair faced not quite toward the other seats, so that people sitting in each position could see each other but were directly facing one another.

"Should I lie down on the couch and spill all my innermost feelings? I’m new to this." Rafael said.

Dr. Torres laughed, shutting the office door and moving to the larger chair. "If it makes you more comfortable, otherwise you can use the chair, stand and pace around the room, or whatever you like. I’m going to sit here and pretend to take notes so you don’t feel like I’m staring at you the whole time. Actually, though, because of the... let’s say, privacy concerns of many of my clients, I don’t take notes or make recordings at all."

"Is that so?" Rafael asked as he sat down in the chair. He angled himself slightly to face the Doctor directly, studying his face to get a better read of his character. Dr. Torres appeared relaxed, holding a pad of paper and a yellow pencil with an eraser in his left hand. "You’re left-handed," he said.

"Yes," the doctor replied, "I imagine that being observant is quite helpful in your line of work. You must be a good judge of character as well. I find most people can get a good feel for another person’s character if they just trust their instincts. Even those who feel they are quite good at covering their feelings reveal something just by the very act of trying to hide themselves from others. How about you, Mr. Camal de Leon? Do you mind if I call you Rafael? How about you Rafael, when you meet someone new, like me for example, do you feel comfortable being yourself, or do you like to feel that it’s better to feel the other person out and then decide what would make them more comfortable?"

"Do I seem as though I’m hiding behind a mask, Doctor? Maribel tells me that therapy is like talking to a mirror, there is no point hiding from myself, she says."

Dr Torres laughed. "That sounds like something she would say. But tell me, have you ever seen her stand in front of a mirror without striking a pose. Trying to figure out how she looks to others, which way to hold her arms for the best effect, how to turn her head, which side looks better. Sometimes I think that we are most guarded when we look at ourselves in a mirror. Perhaps we see wrinkles in our shirt that we try to smooth over, even though in reality, they are so small that no one else would ever notice them."

"Do you think I spend too much time smoothing out the wrinkles, Doctor? Perhaps, some people just feel more comfortable if they are paying attention to details."

"It’s natural to want to make a good impression on people. Do you feel as though you spend too much time on such things?"

"Who can say what’s too much," Rafael replied, studying the doctor’s appearance. Dr. Torres was holding the pencil above the pad, not writing, but seemingly ready to jot down something. His face was tilted slightly downward toward the pad. It was an act, Rafael realized. The Doctor was trying to look like a therapist. He wore a jacket over a button-down shirt, no tie, the top collar button undone, a pen tucked into the shirt pocket, grey dress pants, black shoes, neatly polished.

The doctor looked up as Rafael studied him. "I think it’s too much when other people start to notice that it’s all a façade," the doctor said. "I think we all try to make it seem as though we’re acting naturally, without pretense, but that perhaps we work very hard to give that impression. I think that when we are unsure of ourselves, more worried about how others will see us, then we might spend more time in front of the mirror, trying out different poses or making sure our shirt falls the right way. Perhaps we want to feel that we have control over the way others see us, what they think about us."

Rafael considered. How did he want others to perceive him? Strong, confident, friendly. He wanted people to like him, because it gave him an advantage. It was something he could use. Did he really care about being liked? Did he have some inner need for people to like him? He dismissed the thought angrily. He needed nothing. Suddenly, though, he felt that was wrong, everyone needed companionship, friendship, love. It was what made us human. He snapped back to the conversation.

"You seem to be trying very hard to look like a therapist, doctor. Does that mean you feel uncomfortable in this role?" Rafael asked, wanting to take control of the conversation.

Dr. Torres smiled, "I’m supposed to be a blank slate, a mirror that doesn’t distract you from your own feelings. I’m not supposed to let my own judgements reflect back on you. If you think of me as a therapist, rather than just some guy asking you to talk about your feelings, then perhaps you’ll be less concerned with how I will react to what you say. That’s the standard approach."

"Do you think I’m worried about what you think of me?" Rafael asked, trying to appear as though he didn’t care about the answer at all. He wanted people to try to impress him, he wanted others to go out of their way to make him like them, and to be a little afraid of him, he realized, trying to let none of that show.

"Yes, actually. If you truly didn’t care at some level, how others think about you, that’s the first thing I’d want to address. People are social animals. It is a part of human nature to want to be a part of a group, to fit in, to be accepted. It’s abnormal for someone to be missing that entirely. I think you care very much about what people think of you, Rafael. I think when you think about that, it makes you feel weak, that you think you shouldn’t need anyone’s approval."

Rafael looked back at the doctor who was meeting his gaze head on now, having dropped the pretense of taking notes for the moment at least. His gaze felt like a challenge. A bit of some emotion flared up inside him, anger maybe, or was it fear? Anger. Yes. Who was this doctor to tell him what he felt inside. "You want me to say I feel weak? That I need other people to like me?"

"It doesn’t matter to me what you say, so long as you think about how my words, and especially your own words, make you feel. Perhaps I’m saying that wrong, I’d like you to think about how the way you really feel inside controls the way you act, controls the words you choose, the expressions you choose to paint over your mask." He paused. Rafael’s anger flared, then abruptly faded. Did he let his anger control him? He thought about times he had reacted in anger, things he had done to people who made him angry. It showed he was powerful, not to be trifled with. Didn’t it? Or did it show he was afraid to look weak, because inside he felt weak and didn’t want anyone to know?

Rafael had no idea that Joe Torres, while controlling the holographic simulation of Dr. Juan Torres in the Simulation Room, was able to reach into his mind and influence the direction of his thoughts, to strengthen or reinforce connections and pathways and to weaken others. He only knew he wasn’t used to feeling this way, or used to questioning himself.

"Is this what therapy is? Making me doubt myself, trying to make me feel weak?" He challenged back, but the words felt somehow forced and hollow.

"If I can be honest with you about my own feelings, Rafael... I know who you are. I know your reputation. A part of me is afraid that I’ll make you angry, that you could have me killed, even that you might kill me right here and now. It’s hard for me to really commit myself to liking you, because of that underlying fear. I think at some level that’s what you want me to feel. Fear. You should know that it prevents me from letting myself get too close to you. I imagine that a great many people in your life feel that way."

"And so what?" Rafael answered.

"So, it’s the easy path for you. It gives you an excuse if people don’t like you, if people don’t love and accept you. It makes you feel like you’re in control over their feelings. It takes away the pain when someone doesn’t like you, doesn’t accept you, doesn’t love you. If they abandon you, it’s because they are weak and afraid. It’s your choice to keep people at a distance rather than facing the possibility of rejection and being scared or hurt."

Rafael was stunned. No one talked to him like this! He should kill this man right here and now. He paused. That would just prove Torres was right, wouldn’t it? It would prove that he was afraid to listen to these words, that his fear controlled him. What insult had Torres really given? That he was human and wanted to feel like he was accepted by others, a part of a group... a part of a family, like the one that was ripped from him as a child. He calmed himself. Closed his eyes for a second. "I think that’s enough for today, Doctor," he said in a calm, level voice. Rafael stood up. "We’ll talk again."

The doctor smiled and stood up, reaching to shake Rafael’s hand. Rafael looked at his outstretched hand for a second, then reached out his own and shook it. "I look forward to it, honestly," Doctor Torres said, his eyebrows were raised encouragingly as he nodded to Rafael. Rafael looked into the doctor’s eyes and didn’t see fear.

He smiled back. "As do I, Doctor," he replied.

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