“Lunch would be nice. When did you have in mind?”
“Are you by chance free today?”
Sam was free for lunch today but she remembered Mary’s advice about not letting Jack set the pace.
“Actually, I’m booked today. Let me check my calendar. Um, how about Thursday? There’s a nice bistro not far from my office called Mario’s. One o’clock?”
“Ah, sure,” Jack responded, clearly a bit surprised.
“Great! See you then.”
“Thanks Sam, I’m looking forward to it.”
Sam hung up, pleased with how she’d handled Jack. During the hours she’d spent with Mary rowing, the conversation had turned to Jack Trageser more than once. And it had been Sam who brought him up.
Mary was clearly amused. She shared some details of their relationship and from what Sam could see, although they had a lot of fun together, it was ultimately clear to both Jack and Mary that they weren’t really meant for each other. They’d had what Sam thought of as a very rare amicable split and were still good friends.
After getting to know her over the course of their lessons, Mary encouraged Sam to pursue Jack. And while Sam couldn’t see herself actually initiating contact, she knew Jack would call. Mary had mentioned that Jack had asked about her and had asked Mary if Sam might be willing to go out with him. Mary had cautioned Jack, suggesting he go slow. And now, Sam was about to have her first serious date in a very long time.
7
Sam had made twelve-thirty reservations at Mario’s and showed up on time. This gave her half an hour before Jack would arrive. Sam wanted to be the first there to help avoid the awkwardness of meeting Jack at the front and getting seated together. She’d described her guest to the host and was seated at her favorite table in a quiet part of the restaurant with her back to the wall. As she took her seat, she had to admit that this was about control.
Sam had pulled her hair back into a low pony tail and had dressed conservatively. Attractive, but not sexy was the goal. Slacks, a collared shirt, flats, and minimal makeup did the trick. With luck, she’d come off as the friendly girl next door.
And, as she always did with her patients, she had a plan. She would control the conversation while making an assessment of Jack Trageser. That was the plan. Then again, this wasn’t a psych session. This was a date. What was wrong with her?
The waiter came by and she ordered an Afghan iced tea with cardamom and cream, then sat patiently, eyeing her surroundings to make sure that no patients were nearby – a professional habit.
At five to one, the host brought Jack to the table. She stood up and offered her hand before he could make a move for a hug or a quick kiss on the cheek. If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it.
“I really glad you agreed to meet me,” he began.
“It’s nice to be here. I haven’t been out on a – to lunch in quite a while.
Mistake number one.
“How’s your time look for lunch? Do you have to be back in your office soon?
“No, not really. My next appointment is at two-thirty, so we should be able to enjoy a leisurely lunch.”
Jack took a deep breath and relaxed.
“What’s good here?” he asked.
“Well, as you can see, it’s a Mediterranean Bistro. Much of the food is from the Middle East, but there are also some Greek and Italian dishes. The salads and sandwiches are great as are most of the entrees. But I have to say that the pumpkin Borani is amazing. Maybe we could start with that.
“Since lunch is my primary meal, I’m going to order the Moroccan Stuffed Chicken.”
“I think I’ll do the same. Wine?”
“I don’t think so. I have patients this afternoon. Feel free to have some if you like.”
“No. I’ll pass. I have client meetings this afternoon too. You know, not that long ago, wine at lunch was the thing in the Silicon Valley. I found that I worked a bit slower in the afternoons. I’ve been much clearer and more focused since that period passed.”
“So you’ve been in high tech for a while?”
“Yeah, I started out at Cisco in its relatively early days, made out pretty well on stock options, then left with a few others to do my first startup. It went reasonably well – I learned a lot. But at the end of the day, the investors made out and the founders didn’t. Making it in the Valley isn’t as easy as the media hype makes it out to be. Still, with my latest startup, I think I’ve finally done it right.”
Jack looked up as the waiter approached. He asked if they were ready, focusing on Jack, but Sam jumped in.
“We’ll start with the pumpkin Borani, and will both have the Moroccan Stuffed Chicken. Jack, what would you like to drink?”
“I’ll have whatever she’s having. It looks good.”
“Afghan iced tea it is,” replied the waiter. I’ll be back with that in a few minutes followed by the Borani. Thank you!”
“So tell me about your startup. Balanced News?”
“Yes. Balanced News. Well, I like to think of myself as one of many who helped develop the Internet. We had a common idea that the Internet would be great leveler. I mean that everyone is created equal on the Internet and with unlimited access to unlimited information, the world would become a better place. It’s hard to repress people if they’re well-informed.
“And for quite a while, it went that way. Most of us are in tech for the technology. We love to create and we love to work together to change the world through our inventions.
“Mark, Richard, and I, along with several others who started out in Silicon Valley had religion. We really believed we could be a force for change.
“Unfortunately, over the past few years, that purpose has been perverted. Now we have people manipulating the Net for their own personal and often insidious purposes.
“Even one of our own group, a guy named Marcus Jameson, decided that money and power were more important. He got caught up in his own success. I can’t come up with a less over-used phrase, but he really went over to the dark side.
“He runs a company called Unbreakable Systems and uses his position and power to influence people to give him even more power and influence.
“But it’s not just the rich and powerful.
“You’ve probably seen how social networks help you propagate your own points of view, and how even the most reputable news sites tend to tailor the news you see to stories you’ve looked at before. This creates more polarization. To some degree, we’re all responsible for this, as we tend to appreciate things that reinforce our beliefs.
“Our great social experiment in the Internet is now creating more divisiveness among us when its original purpose was to bring diverse people together. I’m hoping Balanced News can help.”
“So how does it work?” Sam asked, cutting into a slice of the spiced baked pumpkin topped in a creamy garlic-mint yogurt sauce that the waiter had just delivered. “Yum, by the way.”
Jack took a forkful from a slice he served himself and nodded appreciatively. “This is really good!
“Well, I’ll try not to go get into the technical weeds, but we do three things. First, we validate sources. We have a sophisticated algorithm that identifies news stories, blogs, and even personal posts on a variety of social media sites, and establishes a credibility rating based on the credibility of the original source and of the people who have forwarded it. Second, we don’t tailor what’s delivered to you. Indeed, if you have a predisposition to a particular type of news, sports, or other interest, we balance what you receive. You can choose to ignore it, but if you do, you might find a little bit more of opposing views in your feeds. And finally, we have a forum moderator. This is a piece of AI software – artificial intelligence – that ensures that people are respectful to each other, even when they strongly disagree. If someone responded ‘Fuck You, you know-nothing asshole’ to a comment, before it gets posted, our AI moderator would respond asking that the profanity be eliminated and if the disagreement could
be put in a better way. It won’t let a nasty post get through.”
“And this works?”
“We seem to be doing surprisingly well. I admit that even though this was my idea, I was a bit skeptical. But we’ve had some great feedback. Several hardcore liberals and conservatives have sent us thank-you letters, emails, and site comments telling us they’re learning things they never knew, that they’re starting to see other perspectives, and that even if they disagree, they’re beginning to have discussions with people they would never have given the time of day.”
Lunched arrived and the two ate in comfortable silence for a few bites.
“It sounds impressive.”
“Well, we’ll see. More than one of my brilliant ideas has fizzled in the Valley. I’m hoping it will make a difference, but I have a feeling that it’s too little too late. Plus, those guys who have perverted the Net need to be stopped. I wish I could find a way to do that.
“But enough about me. How do you like being a psychiatrist?”
Sam thought a minute before responding.
“I really like it. I must admit that after med school, internship, residency, and then my psych residency, I was pretty burned out. I’d spent too much time doing things I didn’t want to do, following ridiculous orders, and being submitted to long hours and what seemed like hazing from the Attendings and senior residents.
“When I started working at Community, it was hard. We see a lot of homeless and very low-income people with major psychological disorders. They need to be on medication. They need therapy. But as psychiatrists, we’re discouraged from doing therapy, and for our indigent patients, it’s almost impossible to keep them on meds or to get them to change their lifestyles when they don’t have a consistent place to sleep, regular meals, or stability in the rest of their lives.”
“Sounds tough. Why do you do it?”
“Well, I have to believe that something is better than nothing. Plus, I seem to keep stumbling into interesting cases. And now, with my private practice starting to pick up, it’s more and more up to me to decide on my mix of patients and whether I want to do therapy or not. I’m beginning to feel like I do make a difference.”
“That’s all we can ask for.”
8
At 7am sharp on Saturday morning, Sam knocked on the door of Mary’s small house in Daly City. It was one of those rare fall days where there was no fog in Daly City. In fact, with the warm winds blowing from inland, there was no fog on the coast at all and it promised to be an unusually warm day for this often chilly residential area on the cliffs overlooking the ocean just south of San Francisco.
“Want some coffee before we go?” Mary asked after she opened the door.
“No, I’m all set. Actually, I’m pretty excited about my first time on the Bay. It looks like a perfect day for it.”
“Yep, we lucked out. It should be an excellent day for rowing, though I must admit that I prefer quiet foggy mornings.”
They jumped into Mary’s van and began the ten-minute drive down to Oyster Point in South San Francisco. The plan was to row to Coyote Point and back, a sixteen-mile round trip.
After getting the double scull set up and Sam comfortably seated aboard, Mary took the boat out. Once they were a hundred yards out, Sam joined in the rowing, following Mary’s lead, getting into comfortable rhythm.
“How do you feel?” Mary asked.
“I’m settling in. I’m still a bit nervous. This is pretty different from the lake. But I’m concentrating on my stroke and watching you.”
“Don’t worry. Before we get to Coyote Point, you’ll be enjoying the scenery. It all becomes natural, almost unconscious.
“Part of what I love about open water like this is that you don’t have to think about boundaries. You can just keep going.
“Speaking of boundaries, how’d it go with Jack?”
“We had a nice lunch.”
Sensing some reluctance, Mary pressed a bit, “Ah come on. You can tell me. Spill!”
“I guess I’m a bit reluctant to talk about it on two counts. First, this is all new to me. I really haven’t dated or had any kind of romantic relationship in quite a while. And second, Jack is your ex.”
“Hey, you know that Jack and I are good friends now. There’s no reason to worry about me. I’m very happy with how things are between me and him. Ultimately, I’d like to see Jack with the right person. It just wasn’t me.”
“I guess I sort of admitted I’m interested in him. So tell me, what happened between you two? You’re both successful, dynamic, physically active people. You seem like a perfect fit.”
“At the beginning, I thought so too. And when it was just the two of us, hiking, rowing, running, or doing other physical things together, it was perfect. That’s probably why we’re still great friends.”
“So where did it go wrong?”
“I don’t know if I can say it went wrong, exactly. I guess the main thing was that he’s a bit of a showoff. You don’t see it much when he’s alone with you, but in a crowd, at a party, or sometimes, just among friends, he needs to be the center of attention. And as I said before, as much as he hides it in his deference, he really wants control. That’s my job!” she laughed.
“And I guess there’s one more thing. I’m not sure I ever saw the real Jack. I don’t know if it’s all a show or if it’s just that there’s a part of him that he keeps hidden. Ultimately, as I think about it now, I realize that what I thought of as that missing spark, was more likely a lack of true intimacy. We had lots of fun, but for a life-long partner, you need intimacy and we never got there. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
They rowed silently, enjoying the meditative rhythm of their strokes each lost in thought. As they approached Coyote Point, Mary eased up.
“How are you feeling, Sam? We’ve been rowing for over an hour. Are you tired? Should we take a break here at the Marina?”
“You know, Mary, I haven’t felt this good in forever. My body is in sync. You were right, I’ve relaxed into it and I love being on the Bay. I’m sure I’ll be exhausted, a complete waste of space when we get back, but let’s keep going. I’ll buy you lunch.
“And thanks for talking about Jack. I am interested. I’m also a bit intrigued. But don’t worry. I’ll try to take the lead. And I’ll watch out. I’m going to go very slowly.”
9
Mark stopped at the bakery to buy two pain au chocolates (or was it pains au chocolate), before making his way upstairs for his session with Sam. What was that battle raging in France? In the north, they called these pain au chocolate and in the south of France, it was chocolatine. He had a French friend on Facebook who posted a picture of two baguettes with a chocolate bar in between saying that this was pain au chocolate. The subsequent picture showed the regular pastry with the ‘chocolatine’ label. The post had over 100,000 Likes and thousands of comments arguing the merits of each position. It must be nice to live in a country where you could have a heated debate over the name of a pastry.
Mark made his way upstairs, chocolatines in hand. Just as he started to take a seat in her reception area, Sam’s office door opened and Sam greeted Mark warmly.
“You’re a bad influence on me, Mark. I have a hard enough time staying away from the bakery downstairs without you bringing it with you.”
“I know you like these chocolatines as my French friend calls them and for me, I can relax a bit more at the beginning of our sessions sharing a snack with you. This session may be more difficult than most.”
“Well, we’ll get to that shortly. I have hot water ready. Did you want some tea?”
“Yes. Please.”
“Okay,” Sam began, taking a seat across from Mark’s rocking recliner. “Tell me what’s going on. Why don’t you start with the medication. Having any more side effects?”
“Ah, that’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m not sure if they’re side effects or something else. I’ve been having weird dreams and I’m g
etting what is probably just paranoia about Richard.”
“Well, let’s spend the session on the dreams and on your feelings about Richard. However, I also want to check in on your journal. Are you keeping up with it?
“Pretty much.”
“Let’s try to make that a solid yes next time. Mark, the journal is very important. You can look back through it and see how you’ve been doing. You’ll see progress, be better able to spot potential problems, and it may help you get a better handle on what you’re perceiving versus reality. I honestly think this could be one of the most important tools for managing your problems. And if there is any chance of a cure, the journal may be the critical piece.”
“Sorry. I’ll be better.”
“Before we talk about the dreams, and potential issues with Richard, I just want to check in on Janice. How are you doing with her?”
“Well, she’s pretty much gone. I don’t see her anymore. I do hear her from time to time, but before I can react, I remember what we’ve worked on, and I make myself realize that it’s not real. I think I’m managing really well and actually making progress. I feel like I’m starting to get some control over my life.”
“Excellent!” Okay. Tell me about the dreams.”
“The one that bothers me the most seems to be recurring with only slight variations. I wake up in the middle of the night and look around the room. It’s usually lit by moonlight coming in through the skylights above the bed. It is my room. It seems to be correct in every detail, even where I left my book on the nightstand. If I change that placement the next night, it’s represented in my dream.
“Anyway, I look down towards my feet, and they’re huge. They seem to be getting bigger and bigger. As I turn back towards the room, everything is getting bigger, and I’m getting smaller and smaller. I look at my hands and arms, and they’re tiny. But my feet keep getting bigger. I try to get up out of bed, but I’m paralyzed. Even if I could move, it would be too far to reach the floor. I do my best to control my panic. I tell myself it’s just a dream and that I’m going to wake up but I’m stranded for what seems like hours.
The Misogynist Page 8