MiP Bonus: The Power of Heart Chapter 1

Editing of book 1 and planning of book 3 are still in progress. For this week's intermission bonus, here's The Power of Heart's first chapter, which I wrote months ago.

Incidentally, the plans I've made so far for this story include first person narration, but for the viewpoint of the merger of the therapist and the cultivator, which would start in chapter 3.

Chapter 1: A Frustrated Healer

"Good morning, Doctor Thompson."

Jason nodded wearily toward his receptionist as he let the door swing closed behind him. "Good morning, Janice. Ah, you have my coffee ready, excellent." He perked up and grabbed the steaming mug from the desk much more energetically, took an initial cautious sip, then blew on it lightly and sipped again. "Perfect as always. You're a life-saver, thank you."

Janice smiled. "It's what you pay me for."

"And you deserve every penny. In fact, I'll see if I can finagle a raise for you the next time we review the budget. Take care." Jason nodded and walked past the desk, into the hall behind it. He got to his office quickly, still sipping at his steaming hot coffee, and turned on his computer. "Alright, who's on my roster of therapy patients today…"

___

"Hello, Mr. Morris. I see you're a new patient here. What brings you to seek therapy?"

"Just call me John, I'm not a 'mister'. And it's my wife."

"Alright, John. What's the issue?"

"Nothing! There is no issue! Things are great. Except my wife is making issues out of nothing, and insisting that somehow I'm the one in the wrong. It's complete bullshit - who even fucking cares about dishes sometimes being left on the counter instead of in the dishwasher? - but she's threatening divorce over it unless I get therapy. So here I am."

Jason nodded and took a quick note, carefully keeping his expression neutral. "I see. Your wife is upset over something you see as minor, and you think she's being unreasonable, so you're coming to therapy to try to save your marriage. I imagine these therapy sessions are costing you quite a bit of time and effort, not to mention money."

"Yes, they are."

"How much time and effort would putting your dishes in the dishwasher take?"

"Well, not much. But why should I? She should accept that she's being ridiculous!"

Jason held back a sigh of frustration with the ease of a decade of practice. "How do you feel about your wife, in general? Do you love her?"

"Of course I do, it's why I married her!"

"How do you show her your love?"

"I get her some flowers every Sunday. A romantic date once every month. I make sure she feels good in bed, of course." John shrugged.

"So you care that she feels loved. You care about how she feels."

"Yes, of course."

"How do you think she feels when you dismiss her complaints about the dishes?"

"Well that's different! She's being ridiculous, and she should damn well know it."

Jason restrained himself from doing a facepalm.

___

"Hello, Brandon and Clara. Welcome back. What do you have to discuss today?"

"Hi Doc. I don't know about her, but for my part I'm hoping you'll tell Clara how unreasonable she's being."

"You're the one being unreasonable, Brandon!"

Jason leaned forward at his desk and smiled at them, speaking calmly. "Both of you, please remember what you've learned. I'm not here to take sides. I'm here to help both of you and to mediate, and for that you need to discuss things calmly. Now, should I flip a coin for who explains their perspective first?"

Brandon leaned back and smirked. "Nah. Clara can go ahead and put her foot in her mouth."

Clara rolled her eyes. "Whatever. So, Jason, the issue is that Brandon isn't pulling his weight on chores around the house. He's even home all day because he works from home full time, and he still doesn't do a fair share of household maintenance."

"Hey, just because I'm home doesn't mean I'm not working!"

"Now hold on, Bran-" James tried to call for order, but Clara started almost yelling at Brandon before he could finish.

"And just because I don't get paid for it doesn't mean that raising our child isn't work!" Clara turned to glare at Jason for a moment. "And yes, before you ask, if he worked at an office I wouldn't expect him to come home and do chores in the middle of the day. But after his job ends for the day and he's back home, I sure as hell would expect him to do a decent amount of chores then. You don't see me sitting on my ass all evening because the baby wore me out, do you, Brandon?!"

"So hire a goddamn maid so we can both sit on our asses all evening, Clara! I earn enough that we can afford it."

"Yeah, at the cost of our vacation plans! I can't believe that you're putting the inconvenience of doing a few chores above a trip to Hawaii!"

Brandon looked beseechingly at Jason. "See what I'm dealing with, Doc? I can't believe she's putting an overpriced one-time resort visit above a constant everyday nuisance!"

Jason felt a headache coming on as he took another sip of coffee, his second mug of the day. I hope the rest of my patients today have more clear-cut problems. Oh, who am I kidding? They're probably all worse.

___

"Hello, Mrs. Harris. What's on your mind today?"

"I'm afraid things are getting worse with my husband."

"How so?"

"He's just… I don't know what he sees in me. He's so stoic all the time, I never know what he's feeling. He's always so kind and supporting for me, and I have no idea how to support him back for it. He never needs anything from me, not like how I sometimes need him. I feel so inadequate and needy."

"Have you tried talking with him about this? Asking him how he feels?"

"Oh, no, I could never emasculate him like that!"

"Some men don't find such discussions emasculating at all. Do you know his opinion on the topic? Could you ask him that?"

"Well, no, I don't know. But it just wouldn't feel right, asking him for something when he already does so much for me."

Jason waited quietly, rendering no judgement.

At last, Mrs. Harris let out a long sigh and added one more admission. "The worst thing is that he's started being more distant recently. I think he's realized I'm having some issues with our relationship, and I'm worried he might be thinking of leaving. I'm… I'm afraid that if I bring up any issues, I might be bothering him."

Jason let silence reign for a moment longer. "That is a very serious thing to be concerned about. Have you considered suggesting that the two of you get couple therapy together?"

"Are you crazy? He'd think I'm saying that there's something wrong with us, that we're messed up in the head! You know damn well that most people think therapy is only for crazy folks!"

Jason quietly took a deep breath while he focused on not saying out loud what he was thinking. I'm sure you'd be surprised how he'd react, considering he's my 3pm appointment today, but I can't tell you that because of patient confidentiality.

___

"Hello, Mrs. Bailey. How are you feeling today?"

The petite woman on Jason's office couch let out a very long sigh. "Tired. So tired. And stressed."

"And how is your husband?"

"Oh, he's out having fun with his friends as usual." Her voice abruptly shifted from lighthearted to an angry grumble. "I hope that big-breasted hussy, Heather, isn't flirting with him again."

"You've mentioned Heather flirting before. Are you concerned they might be going farther than flirting?"

"Haha." She somehow managed to make even such a short burst of laughter sound deranged. "No, I'm not concerned at all. I just need to show him, really show him, how much I love him, and he'll come back to me. I just know it."

"Let's see, my notes say you're already working two jobs and giving him all of your paychecks, and doing every sexual favor he asks for, even when it's something you hate and when it hurts. The most significant thing you've mentioned him doing for you is that he… berated you for serving dinner 2 minutes late, punched a hole in the wall beside your head, and said he would forgive you if you bought him tickets for a convention he wants to go to. What positive factors do you see in him?"

"He's my soulmate, and he needs me! Oh, I know! I'll get a third job and fund flying business class to the convention. That will finally prove my love to him, and everything will be wonderful!"

"Mrs. Bailey, you've told me so very much about things you dislike about your husband. How about we visit the other side of things? What are some of the things you like about him?"

"Hmm, could I fit a cashier shift into my schedule? Maybe if I drop from 6 hours of sleep per night to 4 hours? Or, I think I've heard about some kinds of online jobs that I might be able to do at the same time as working my current jobs? Oh, I should google that!"

Jason raised his voice, not quite shouting. "Mrs. Bailey!"

She jerked and almost dropped her phone, then glared at him. "What is it? I'm busy with something important."

"What things do you like about your husband? What makes him deserve this level of dedication?"

"Huh? What are you even talking about? He's my soulmate, he makes me happy and he deserves everything. Hmph. You sound like my friend used to, before I told her to drop it if she wanted to stay my friend. Now stop interrupting me."

Jason could feel his headache getting worse. I think this might be a new record for the deepest denial I've ever seen.

___

Jason bolted his lunch and washed down an extra-strength dose of Tylenol with more coffee. By the time of his first afternoon appointment, he'd managed to make himself professionally presentable again.

"Hello, Mr. Cooper. I see you're a new patient here. What brings you to therapy?"

"Call me Richard. It's… my wife. She thinks there's something wrong with me, mentally, and insists that I have to get therapy to fix it."

"That's not much to go on. What specific thing does she think is wrong with you? And do you agree with her about it?"

"What doesn't she think is wrong with me is more like it! God, that woman…" Richard shook his head. "I love her to death, but she is impossible to satisfy."

"Oh?"

"It's like nothing is ever good enough for her. I mean… Okay, so, my wife likes eating home-cooked meals, right? She's not so much a fan of cooking, but I don't mind. I took cooking classes at night for months. Got to a point where all my friends rave about how good my cooking is."

"Congratulations, that validation of all your effort must have felt great."

"Yeah, it did. But… My wife's mother used to make this wonderful tuna casserole when she was growing up, and every time I made any kind of casserole, my wife would comment about how she missed her mom's special tuna casserole. So I asked her to describe it, and I tried two dozen variations, but the best assessment she ever gave was that one of them was 'a passable imitation, but still inferior to the real thing.' I finally broke down and actually called her mom to get the recipe, and made it exactly. When my wife tried that one, she said it 'really made her miss the real thing.'"

Jason finished a note and looked up. "I get the impression that's not quite the end of that one?"

"Yeah. Not quite. I got her mom to secretly come visit and make the casserole herself, and served it. My wife declared that it was still just a little bit off, and maybe I would just have to accept that I would never live up to her mom's cooking. That's when her mom came out of the kitchen to reveal the surprise."

"How did she react to that?"

"Worst screaming match I've ever heard. I tried to leave them to it, but that drew my wife's attention, and she made me sit down and listen to the whole thing." Richard shuddered. "Long story short, they're not talking to each other anymore, and that's the incident that prompted my wife's insistence on therapy."

"I see. And this is typical for your wife? How often does she find something unsatisfactory about what you do?"

"Constantly. Every day, it's at least half a dozen things. At least."

"Have you considered that this might qualify as abuse?"

Richard stared for several seconds. "Wait, you're suggesting that she might be abusing me? Don't you have a doctorate in this stuff? How do you not know that abuse is something a man does to a woman, not the other way around?"

Jason's headache throbbed, right above his eyes.

___

"Hello, Mr. Harris. How's your marriage?" Jason hid a wince when he realized what he'd just asked. I should not have asked that. It could give him a clue about his wife being another of my patients.

The large and well-muscled man sitting gingerly on Jason's couch shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what to do, man. It's like she's shutting down and closing me off, and I have no idea why. She used to tell me all about everything that upset her at her job, and I'd give her a shoulder to cry on, but recently it's almost like I have to interrogate her to hear that anything's wrong at all."

Jason took a moment to consider. I need to be careful about how I phrase things, sticking to terms of general principles or his side of things. He cocked his head. "Sometimes you have your own upsetting events at work, right? Do you ever tell her about those? It would show her that you're okay with talking about such things, and giving her a chance to commiserate with you might make her feel more comfortable being open with you."

"I could never let her down like that! I'm her husband, it's my job to be the strong one and support her."

"What about asking her what the issue is? Communication is critical to any relationship, and no one is a mind reader."

"And make her think I'm trying to control her and our relationship like an asshole? That would just drive her further away. Asking about problems at work is already starting to feel intrusive enough."

Jason sipped his coffee again. "Preventing misconstruals like that is part of what couple therapy is for. Have you considered suggesting that the two of you get help together?"

"You crazy, man? She'd think I'm saying she's messed up in the head! Or maybe that I'm crazy! You and I know that therapy's not just for crazies, but she doesn't."

"You know that for certain? You've discussed the topic with her?"

"Yeah, we talked about it. I mentioned therapy in passing, and she asked 'Isn't that just for crazy folks?' I said yes, of course - don't want her thinking I'm crazy."

Jason rubbed his throbbing forehead. Oh god, both of them are expressing a false belief just to avoid the expected consequence of disagreeing with the other's expressed - but false - belief. How can I break this impasse without breaking confidentiality?

___

"Hello, Stephen. Welcome back. What's on your mind today?"

"My girlfriend is making unreasonable demands about my mom."

"Can you give me an example?"

"Well, let's see, my girlfriend keeps complaining about my mom moving things in our kitchen. She says my mom visits too often, that she's always intruding on our date nights, and that she's nosy and 'tramples boundaries', whatever that means. My girlfriend's especially pissed that my mom looked through her texts when she went to the bathroom and left her phone unlocked on the couch."

"I see. How often, exactly, does your mom visit? What's your perspective on these matters?"

Stephen leaned forward on his elbows. "How often? Let's see… She comes over to cook for us 5 times every week and stays for a few hours afterward. She also comes over just to chat I think usually one extra time most weeks."

"And your perspective and opinion?"

"Well, she's… my mom." Stephen shrugged. "She's doing nice things for us, and she has a right to be invested in her son's life, doesn't she?"

Jason couldn't stop himself from raising an eyebrow. "And her looking through your girlfriend's texts?"

"She was watching out for me, making sure my girlfriend wasn't cheating on me."

Jason gulped the last of his latest mug of coffee and sighed. Typical, really, with how today is going. Too damn typical.

___

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Morris. Hello Robert, and little Allison. You all left with a plan last time; how has that gone?"

Mrs. Morris clapped her hands together. "Well, we've talked a lot with Robert, but there's still something he's hesitant to say. We're hoping you can help us finish."

Jason looked at Robert for a few seconds, then turned to face the two adults squarely. "The most important thing is that he needs to feel that saying it is safe. Have you promised, earnestly and sincerely, that you will not punish him for speaking honestly?"

The mother of the family nodded firmly. "Yes! I've sworn that up and down all day for a week! I've made it as clear as I possibly can."

"And you, Mr. Morris?"

Mr. Morris grimaced for a moment, but quickly suppressed it. "Yes, I promise I will not punish Robert for being honest with us."

"Okay. Robert?"

The teenage boy sandwiched between the two adults opened his mouth, but hesitated. "I…"

Jason leaned forward until his head was level with Robert's and kept his voice soft and gentle. "Hey, Robert. I know this may be difficult. But it's either this, or keep it bottled up until you can't anymore. You have the best guarantee of safety for it that I can reasonably get you. So, how about it?"

Robert nodded slowly and took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. You all want to know the truth so bad? Fine. Mom, Rick is only your husband to me. That's all he will ever be to me: my mom's husband. He's not my dad. I don't love him, and I'm not going to."

"Honey, he's the only dad you have."

Robert shook his head. "No. I don't have any dad. Just you."

Rick glared at his step-son. "I am your mother's husband. That makes me your dad. Whether you like it or not, I am your dad, and it's high time you accept that."

"My dad DIED 5 years ago! He's dead! And just because he's dead doesn't mean he can be replaced! You can throw away all his pictures, but you can't throw away my memories! My dad may be dead, but he's still my dad!"

"DON'T YOU TALK BACK TO ME! That's it, you're grounded for a month!"

Jason tried to intervene, but was quickly interrupted. "Remember your promise, ple-"

Rick spun to yell at Jason. "Shut up! You think you know better than me how to parent my own child?! What are we even paying you for? In fact, you know what, that's it. I won't pay to have my own parenting skills be insulted! Everyone out, we're leaving and finding another therapist, one who is actually competent and can fix Robert."

Jason stared after them and shook his head as they stormed out. Every competent and ethical therapist in the world would tell you that forcing a relationship will never work, and in fact will backfire horribly. Trying to force it will just push Robert to walk out of your life the instant he can, and he will never return. But none of us can make you actually listen to that.

___

On his way home, Jason sat at a red traffic light and yawned. He blinked his bleary eyes and took advantage of the pause in driving to try to wipe them clear. That figures. After all the metaphorical red lights I got stuck at with my therapy patients today, I got stuck at a literal one on the way home.

Someone's horn honked behind him, in sync with the throbbing of his headache, and he looked at the two traffic lights in front of him. Wait, two? There should only be… Oh. He shook his head and blinked a few times to refocus his eyes and resolve the doubled image into the single traffic light, which had indeed changed to green. He sighed as he started driving again. And as if that's not enough, it's dark early, my coffee's wearing off, and it's raining too. I really need to cut back on my hours. But then I'd be helping fewer people than I could.

Jason sighed yet again as he went around a curve in the road. As if I even helped anyone today, despite doing 8 appointments. He started venting out loud to himself. "Every single patient today was not ready to accept the lesson they needed to learn, not ready to hear the advice I could give them. They all came to me seeking help, but not a single one was ready to accept help, to be helped. Would that be against a law of nature, or something?! One soul, one single soul ready to accept my help, one soul I can make a difference for! Is that really too much to ask?!"

Jason didn't even realize he had taken his hands off the steering wheel as he gesticulated, raising his hands high as though beseeching the heavens in his frustration. His car veered off the road, failing to follow another curve, while he was looking skyward into the darkness of the rainy night. His car's impact with a tree didn't even register because an outstretched branch had already impaled him through an eye, killing him instantly.

All he knew was darkness surrounding him, as his impassioned plea for one soul he could make a difference for echoed into the distance.