Melanie's Journey

by Michael Cross

  “Be careful and don’t go with anyone anywhere you don’t know.” She warned as if I could not figure that out for myself. The one thing that had crossed my mind in recent weeks was that I was desperately missing my times of isolation in nature. And not only did I not know the area very well, but this guy on the loose further complicated my desires to get “lost” in my quest for connection to nature’s energy.

  The day went by in the standard fashion except that I was really tired from staying up chatting so late the night before with Nicole. I sat alone at lunch since Daniel and Nicole had said they were going to run some errand. I had wondered why they had not invited me along but then I just thought that’s the story of my life. I hoped they were not getting tired of my company, since sitting there along reminded me of how empty an isolated person can feel in a big school—especially during lunch. I finished eating quickly and decided to go check out the psychology classroom.

  I was not sure what I wanted but I told myself that I had to talk with Mr. Lindberg early about finalizing my place in debate. When I came to the door I noticed he was writing something on the board, but when he saw me he stopped and greeted me with an enthusiastic “So how are you doing Melanie?” Wow, he actually remembered my name again! However, just as before I could only say “Fine”, in a rather guarded, sheepish way.

  He replied in a joking manner that bordered on teasing, “Typical conditioned response—I mean the whole ‘fine’ reply…even if your grandmother died yesterday you’re just supposed to say ‘fine’ and continue whatever you are doing.” I think he was trying to get me speaking more than the last time we were alone. He laughed and sat on the edge of his desk and continued, while all I could do is try to think of something interesting to say.

  He continued, “So you are new to this school, I guess you must really feel like you are still on the outside looking in.” I looked at him now, eyes wide open but not looking directly at his, “Hey, I always feel like I am on the outside—I mean even if I were here a hundred years I doubt it would be any different.” He motioned for me to take a seat and then he replied, “Hey, I know how you feel, believe me.” The strange thing is that I did. I did not know why but for some reason I felt comfortable and wanting to talk more now. I could sense sincerity and maybe an interest in me—and I liked that.

  He continued as he sat down in his chair and rolled it over near to me like it was a wheelchair, “I notice that you have been hanging out with Nicole and Daniel.” I nodded, “Yeah, Nicole is really nice and so is Daniel...” At that point he interrupted me (usually I would not like that but it was okay) and said, “I can tell you that Nicole really likes you. And Daniel, who is my best debate student, said you are going to sign up for the team!”

  His voice betrayed his enthusiasm. I nodded and, maybe trying to impress him, I stated, “I do intend to compete with Daniel for that top spot you know.”

  “Well, well, I really like your attitude!” He seemed like he was sincere in wanting me to join and then said something strange in a way, “I have not seen you in action that much but I can sense something…something that makes me believe you may be the one to do it!”

  Perhaps now I had dropped my guard and was showing too much enthusiasm, “I hope you don’t mind that I can argue every side of an issue with equal confidence, and I can convince anyone of my sincerity and conviction, even though I might not even have that particular viewpoint.” He leaned back playing with his pen, “Wow, a true psychopath with a gunslinger’s attitude…I like it!”

  I was a bit taken back since I had wondered many times if I actually did have psychopathic traits. How to respond? I went blank and glared at him in a way that might have betrayed being frightened at his insight, “So you think I might be a psychopath?”

  He didn’t seem taken back…he actually seemed to convey being impressed, “Oh I don’t know…I don’t know you well enough yet to tell. Give me some time to see. Are you wondering because when you speak you can take any position, or can you analyze people by their eyes and body gestures, and determine what they want to hear—so you can then adapt your position to fit? In other words, you can basically fake anything, right?”

  I answered in a manner some teachers might have found offensive, maybe being a bit cocky but not trying to be mean, “Not sure, what do you do when speaking for your students?”

  He stopped cold and lost his smile for a moment. Great, talk about offending the one teacher who I thought I might identify with. He then grinned and rotated in his chair, “Well Melanie, maybe you’ll have to make that determination as time goes on. As for you, we will see, won’t we? And just to let you know, we could really use a smart, psychopath with excellent communication skills—it’s a great combination for winning awards!”

  Some people, maybe most, would take our conversation as either me being disrespectful to him—talking to him as an equal—or his comments as playing with some young woman’s mind (and even one who might fit his comments in a real sense). However, I actually enjoyed our conversation as it continued. I was having fun, and felt like we understood each other in a rather unusual, but good, way. We analyzed each other until the bell rang and I said I’d see him later when class began. He smiled and said “I can’t wait!” which reflected the way I felt as well.

  Sitting in my next class I reflected over the twenty minutes or so that we had spent talking. Many would be scared of a psychopath, but it seemed Mr. Lindberg might actually be fascinated by one. Was I one? I mean, I did not care so much to pretend but I was really good at it. When I was a child I was a prankster and I was only caught a couple of times. Once I snuck into the classroom during recess and smashed a kid’s lunch into a multicolored pancake—he had ripped my drawing in half on purpose earlier that day. However, I learned early on how to get off using my skills at faking sorrow for what I had done—it was a great skill to be able to convince adults I was innocent or at least remorseful if caught. This time when the kid saw his lunch he started crying. When he accused me I focused on trying to cry and the teacher felt sorry for me and merely asked me to apologize—which I did. The next week I snuck laxative into his cupcake which I saw as adequate revenge, especially since he didn’t make it to the bathroom in time.

  Adults had often commented on my charming personality but in each of those situations I was knowingly faking my way through something. Was I violent or obsessed with revenge? Once, when I was only twelve some guy was speeding through the parking lot and almost ran me over, and then had the audacity to yell something rude at me. I waited until he was in the store and then unscrewed two of the valve stems in his tires with my nail clippers. I can still laugh thinking about seeing his reaction when he came out of the store with a full cart and saw his flat tires. Glad he didn’t see me.

  Was I devoid of emotion? I felt like I was but I could not be sure. I mean, I could get angry but nobody could tell since I do not think I show any of the tell-tale signs of anger. I just analyze a situation and weigh my options. So did I really get angry in these or countless other situations? I must…else, I would not desire to make things right when I was wronged.

  Oh yes, those other attributes. From what I understand such people are generally reckless but if anything I may be overly cautious and calculating. Psychopaths do not foresee consequences yet I have always been able to—what strength is there in getting caught doing something and being punished?

  Then there is the tricky issue of love. I know I loved my father when I was little but when he left so did much of the innocent little child. I loved my mother, but she may have been the only one I allowed this emotion for after my dad left. It’s really odd that thinking way back I remember having intense empathy but again that was before my dad decided not to have me in his life anymore. Maybe that is when I went emotionally dormant in that department. I felt abandoned and had to push my emotions away to protect my ego from hurt. And it didn’t help when my mother started using me as her shrink—what kind of Oedipal/Electra situation
was that supposed to evolve into? Eventually my feelings of connection to her grew more into resentment.

  So starting as a little girl I gradually become effective in intellectualizing emotions. I guess that contributed to my distancing myself from any basic feelings—and that was what helped me stay as sane as I am. My mother was so close, and needy, that the emotional bond was like a rope around my neck that needed to be cut to avoid suffocating. With that my emotional core became completely dormant, like a calcified benign tumor. Of course, her replacing me with Gerald did not help.

  Oh, and lest I forget another trait common to both psychopaths and borderlines is a history of multiple relationships. I had once thought I could have borderline traits but then, borderlines are hyper-emotional while I was more hypo-emotional, so I dismissed that idea. As for relationships, I suppose if I had wanted to I could have engaged in them, but why? Had someone ever given to me enough that I would have considered them deserving of my attention? No. So yeah, I could be charming, heck, I could probably dress a bit different and use makeup in a more appealing manner and be really popular, but still it goes back to the original point—why? Maybe if I could find someone particularly interesting to invest the effort in; I mean I had never really had true friends and an even lesser degree of interest in any guys. That wasn’t to say I was asexual, that was definitely not the case, my libido was there, and probably higher than average, but I was not interested in the high school game of dating and mating.

  A few times my mother asked if I had any guys I knew who liked me, or who I was interested in. I said no to the question each time she brought it up. Maybe by the time I was 16, and my mother was still getting this answer, or the way I answered it, she started to hint or probed into the idea I might be into females. I decided to joke and say that maybe I was, and then she responded that she would not judge, and maybe it would have advantages—like not having to mess with birth control.

  That was so typical of my mother to first be totally ignorant of who her only daughter was, and then to jump to the conclusion that I’d probably be marching in the Portland Gay Pride parade in the summer. Maybe her attempt to sound so “open” was because actually having an opinion would require too much effort. She had developed that 1960s “Let the child discover everything on their own, even in what’s right and wrong” and “try not to stifle their exploration and creativity.” As usual I just ended the conversation with a “Whatever” and left the house so I could be alone.

  The bell rang, and I honestly had no idea what the teacher had been saying for the past hour and a half, but I quickly went to Mr. Lindberg’s class. He was looking at his grade book when I decided to just walk up and tell him I was now on the debate team. “Great!” he said. He seemed really pleased with both my decision and assertiveness and stated, “I really love to hear your enthusiasm!”

  Most students were seated when the bell rang and but Nicole and Daniel rushed in late and took seats next to mine. Then Mr. Lindberg started to kid around in a rather odd way—sorta like the one he did in the first day of class I think, but more graphic “So you’re late?” to which Daniel responded “Yeah, we got into an argument with some guy and then we had to find a place to dispose of the body—wasn’t too easy.” He replied to Daniel, “That’s okay, have you considered a wood chipper? It only leaves small particles.” Daniel pretended to think a moment, “That’s not a bad idea!”

  A couple of students laughed and a few rolled their eyes—maybe they thought he was tacky but that is when Mr. Lindberg got going, “So did you grind up the victim and add them to the cafeteria selection?” That generated much more laughter since everyone hated the school lunches. He kept a straight face and continued, “Well, I hope you at least removed any bone or other objects—the last time I think I chipped a tooth on someone’s ring”. Why let this macabre atmosphere go to waste? I interrupted and stated, “Maybe it would be an improvement to have some really fresh meat in the menu—I read that during the Chinese Cultural Revolution students at one school cooked several teachers they suspected of having anti-Mao attitudes for lunch.” Mr. Lindberg then came back with something like, “Well, I would hope you don’t have that in mind for me.” To which I said, “No, absolutely not, but if we look at the faculty list…” Then some other student made a joke about cats and dogs on the menu in China and Mr. Lindberg immediately changed the subject—I was not sure whether he was trying to avoid any ethnic jokes, or me getting into trouble if some crazy administrator thought I really wanted to eat a teacher.

  Mr. Lindberg was finally able to get the class focused and start his discussion. I was left thinking that he must like this sort of dark humor. Once he got things under his control he went back to my comment about the Chinese school, and pointed out that I was correct about the incident—at least according to some educational program he had seen on TV. He then started discussing cases of cannibalism and dove into the general topic of taboos and why certain things are such. I was surprised at he would go into such a deep subject for this class yet it did not surprise me that HE would do it. He asked if the class had read the articles on Alfred Adler and Sigmund Freud he had given out, and it was only then that I noticed what he had been writing on the board prior to our conversation. If I recall right he had written the following:

  1. Freud was pessimistic about the human race. According to his views of the mind, we all possess a savage, sadistic inner self, maybe represented by a killer or a vampire—do you agree?

  2. What keeps most people from doing the evil things we all fantasize about?

  3. Adler believes people are basically good deep down, do you agree?

  Why do many people from horrible families turn out to be wonderful people and why do some people from excellent families turn out to be horrid?

  The class looked over the questions and started mini conversations. Of course, I grouped with Daniel and Nicole. Nicole looked at me and said, “Well, maybe on number one we should ask if an average person could be lured into cannibalism, right Melanie?” I couldn’t resist…”Well Nicole, would you be able to cook someone up?” She snickered and said, “Not sure, if you have anyone tender in mind let’s invite them to dinner and we can both try our cooking skills!” At which point Daniel shook his head and said “Okay girls, enough of the Jeffrey Dahmer fan club meeting.” We all laughed and just chatted until Mr. Lindberg asked for each group to comment.

  When it came our group’s turn Daniel just appointed himself as spokesman and said something pretty basic like, “Maybe they, Freud and Adler, are both right…maybe we all do possess evil thoughts and have the potential to act on each one…but Adler’s view of families nurturing us to do good will ensure that those values will win out—and the worse that most people will ever do is perhaps dream or fantasize about those so-called ‘evil desires’.”

  Mr. Lindberg agreed for the most part, but asked why some people can be raised by wonderful parents and still do really evil things. At that point I jumped in with, “What’s good and evil anyway?” That caught everyone’s attention including Mr. Lindberg. “I mean, in the Middle East a woman wearing a dress that shows part of her legs or arms is considered absolutely evil while a woman can go topless on a beach in France or Germany and nobody would consider that bad at all.” To that I was greeted with a couple of immature comments.

  Mr. Lindberg cautioned everyone to be nice when he asked the class to respond. Someone said something about God setting standards of modesty in dress to which Mr. Lindberg asked if his religion allowed people to divorce, to which he said it did. Then Mr. Lindberg commented that most Christian churches considered divorce absolutely sinful a few generations back and that the Bible condemned it in no uncertain terms. Then one of the rally types shot back that times had changed, to which I responded, “So, if something was considered by your religion to be evil when your grandparents were your age who is to say what your grand kids will be able to do with your church’s blessings that today is totally forbidden?” That cau
sed several students to start an angry tirade against my comments to which Mr. Lindberg again had to remind them to be respectful.

  He thanked me for my comments and then said that I had presented the foundation for Freudian teachings quite well in regards to civilization. He presented the idea, “We internalize what is right or wrong based on what our parents say to a major degree, and to a lesser degree what our significant social institutions claim is right or wrong. So one can read a passage in a religious text, such as the Bible, that says something is evil, but if one’s family doesn’t make a big deal of it, and your church does not reinforce the ideas you read very strongly, then you will not see the action as immoral. Given a different culture, but the same religion, then you could have a totally different world view.” One of the rally girls in the back of the class disagreed but then I asked her what would happen if she were suddenly yanked back in time a hundred years earlier, dressed in her rally outfit, and was to visit her church, what would people think? Before she could answer I said she’d be arrested for public indecency as well as suspicion of being a prostitute. She just glared at me while some of the guys whispered comments to each other.

  “So why do some people not conform to how they are raised?” asked one student. Mr. Lindberg replied, “It depends...maybe some people learn early on that the people giving them the lessons are not legitimate—they say one thing and then do the other too often. Then of course there are those who may possess a genetic desire to rebel, a need to experiment with novel ways of thinking or living, or may not even possess emotional connections to their family or anyone else.” With that, he discussed the ideas in the reading, which were okay but really basic—I guess you have to be basic since not everyone has that much knowledge. Then he put on some documentary featuring an interview with a serial killer talking about his childhood. That was fascinating.