"Today is confession time. Go ahead, Tony."
Tony bolted upright, stared at Pam for a long moment, then
leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes. If he had been wearing a fedora, he would have pushed it down over his face.
Pam, surmising that Tony had no intention of commenting,
continued in her clear bold voice, "Tony and I have been sexually involved for a while, and it's hard for me to keep coming here and be silent about it."
After a short charged silence came stuttered questions:
"Why?" "What started this?" "How long?" "How could you?"
"Where is it going?"
Quickly, coolly, Pam responded, "It's been going on for
several weeks. I don't know about the future, don't know what
started it; it wasn't premeditated but just happened one evening after a meeting."
"You going to join us today, Tony?" Rebecca asked gently.
Tony slowly opened his eyes. "It's all news to me."
"News? You saying that this is not true?"
"No. I mean confession day. This 'go ahead, Tony'--
that was news to me."
"You don't look happy about it," said Stuart.
Tony turned to address Pam: "I mean, I was over at your
place last night. Being intimate, you know. Intimacy--how many time have I heard here that broads are more sensitive and want more intimacy than plain old sexual intimacy? So why not be
intimate enough to talk to me, to run this 'confession day' by me first?"
"Sorry," Pam said, without sounding sorry, "things weren't
sitting right with me. After you left I was up much of the night brooding and thinking about the group, and I realized time was too short--we've got only six more meeting left. Am I counting right, Julius?"
"Right. Six more meetings."
"Well, it just hit me how much I was betraying you, Julius.
And my contract here with everyone else. And betraying myself, too."
"I never put it all together," said Bonnie, "but I've had a
feeling that something wasn't right the last several meetings.
You've been different, Pam. I remember Rebecca sensing that
more than once. You rarely talk about your own issues--I have no idea what's going on between you and John or whether your ex-husband's in the picture or not. Mostly what you've been doing is attacking Philip."
"And Tony, you too," added Gill. "Now that I think about it,
you've been real different. You've been hiding out. I've missed the old free-swinging Tony."
"I've got some thoughts here," said Julius. "First, something
Pam touched off with her use of the word contract. I know this is repetitious, but it bears repeating for any of you who may be in a group in the future"--Julius glanced at Philip--"or even lead a group. The only contract any of us have is to do our best to explore our relationship with everyone in the group. The danger of an out-of-group relationship is that it jeopardizes the therapy work. How does it do that? Because people in a tight relationship will often value that relationship more than the therapy work. Look, it's precisely what's happened here: not only have Pam and Tony
hidden their own relationship--that's understandable--but as a result of their personal involvement they've backed off from their therapy work here."
"Until today," said Pam.
"Absolutely, until today--and I applaud what you've done,
and applaud your decision to bring it to the group. You know what my question's going to be for both you and Tony: why now ?
You've known each other in the group about two and a half years.
Yet now things change. Why? What happened a few weeks ago that prompted the decision to get together sexually?"
Pam turned to Tony, raising her eyebrows, cueing him to
answer. He complied. "Gentlemen first? My turn again? No
problem; I know exactly what changed: Pam crooked her finger
and signaled 'okay.' I've had a perpetual hard-on for her since we started, and if she'd crooked her finger six months ago or two years ago I would've come then too. Call me 'Mister Available.'"
"Hey, that's the Tony I know and love," said Gill.
"Welcome back."
"It's not hard to figure out why you've been different,
Tony," said Rebecca. "You're getting it on with Pam, and you
didn't want to do anything to screw it up. It's reasonable. So you hide out, cautious about showing any of your not-so-nice parts."
"The jungle part, you mean?" said Tony. "Maybe, maybe
not--it's not all that simple."
"Meaning?" asked Rebecca.
"Meaning the 'not-so-nice part' is a turn-on for Pam. But I
don't want to get into that."
"Why not?"
"Come on, Rebecca, it's obvious. Why are you putting me
on the spot? If I keep talking like this, I can kiss my relationship with Pam goodbye."
"You sure?" persisted Rebecca.
"What do you think? I figure her bringing it up at all in the
group says it's a done deal, that she's made up her mind. It's getting warm here--hot seat's getting hot."
Julius repeated his question to Pam about the timing of her
affair with Tony, to which Pam was uncharacteristically tentative.
"I can't get perspective on it. I'm too close. I do know that there wasn't any forethought, no planning--it was an impulsive act. We were having coffee after a meeting, just the two of us, because all you guys went off in your own direction. He invited me to get
some dinner--he's done that often, but this time I suggested he come to my place and have some homemade soup. He did, and
things got out of hand. Why that day and not earlier? I can't say.
We've hung out together in the past: I've talked to Tony about literature, given him books to read, encouraged him to go back to school, and he's taught me about woodwork and helped me build a TV stand, a small table. You've all known that. Why it got sexual now? I don't know."
"Are you okay about trying to find out? I know it's not easy
to talk about something so intimate in the presence of a lover," said Julius.
"Good, here's the question: think back to the group--what
were the important things going on when this began?"
"Since I returned from India, two things have loomed large.
Your health is number one. I once read a crackpot article stating that people pair in groups in the unconscious hope their offspring will provide a new leader, but that's far out. Julius, I don't know about how your illness might have prompted me to get more
involved with Tony. Maybe the fear of the group ending caused me to seek a more personal permanent bond; maybe I irrationally
thought this might keep the group continuing after the year. I'm guessing."
"Groups," said Julius, "are like people: they don't want to
die. Perhaps your relationship with Tony was a convoluted way to keep it alive. All therapy groups try to continue, to have regular reunions--but they rarely do so. Like I've said many times here, the group is not life; it's a dress rehearsal for life. We've all got to find a way to transfer what we learn here to our life in the real world. End of lecture.
"But, Pam," Julius continued, "you mentioned two things loom large: one was my health and the other was..."
"It's Philip. I've been preoccupied with him. I hate that he's here. You've said that his presence may ultimately be a boon to me, and I trust you, but so far he's been nothing but a blight, with maybe one exception; I'm so caught up in my hatred for him that my preoccupation with Earl and John has vanished. And I don't
think it's coming back."
"So," Julius persisted, "so Philip looms large. Is it possible that Philip's presence plays some role in the timing of your affair with Tony?"
&nb
sp; "Anything's possible."
"Any hunches?"
Pam shook her head. "I don't see it. I'd vote for sheer
horniness. I haven't been with a man for months. That's rare for me. I think it's no more complicated than that."
"Reactions?" Julius scanned the room.
Stuart jumped in, his keen, orderly mind clicking. "There's
more than conflict between Pam and Philip--there's a lot of
competition. Maybe I'm stretching it, but here's my theory: Pam always had a key place, a central position, in the group--the
professor, the erudite one, the one who took Tony in hand to
educate him. So, what happens? She goes away for a few weeks
and returns to find Philip squatting in her place. I think this was disorienting." Stuart turned to Pam. "Whatever other grievances you had about him from fifteen years ago got compounded."
"And the connection to Tony?" asked Julius.
"Well, that might have been one way of competing. If my
recollections are right, it was around then that Pam and Philip both tried to give you comforting gifts. Philip passed out that story about the ship stopping at an island, and I remember Tony got
really caught up in the discussion." He turned to Pam. "Maybe that was threatening to you; maybe you didn't want to lose your
influence over Tony."
"Thanks, Stuart, mighty enlightening," shot back Pam.
"Your point is that to compete with this zombie I have to fuck all the guys in the group! That's your view of women's abilities?"
"That's going to encourage feedback," said Gill, "and that zombie crack is out of line. I prefer Philip's even-mindedness over hysterical name-calling any day! Pam, you are one angry lady. Can you be anything else but mad?"
"Those are strong feelings, Gill. What's happening?" asked
Julius.
"I think I see a lot of my wife in this new angry Pam, and
I'm determined not to let any vicious stuff pass--from either of them."
Then Gill added, "And there's something else. I think I'm
miffed at continuing to be so invisible to Pam." He turned to her.
"I'm being personal and upfront with you; I've let you know what I'm feeling about you, I tell you how I see you as the chief justice, but nothing registers--I still don't matter. You only got eyes for Philip...and Tony. And I think I'm giving you important stuff--
and here's another piece: I think I know why your John bailed
out: it wasn't because he was a coward; it was because of your rage. "
Pam, lost in thought, remained silent.
"There are lots of powerful feelings coming out. Let's keep
looking at them and try to understand them. Ideas?" asked Julius.
"I admire Pam's honesty today," said Bonnie, "and I can
understand how raw she feels. I also appreciate Gill taking her on.
That's an amazing change for you, Gill, and I applaud it, but
sometimes I wish you'd let Philip defend himself. I don't
understand why he doesn't." She turned to Philip. "Why don't
you?"
Philip shook his head and remained silent.
"If he won't speak, I'll answer for him," said Pam. "He's
following instructions from Arthur Schopenhauer." She took a note from her purse, scanned it, and read:
* Speak without emotion.
* Don't be spontaneous.
* Remain independent of others.
* Think of yourself as living in a town in which you have the only watch that keeps time--it will serve you well.
* To disregard is to win regard.
Philip nodded appreciatively and replied, "I approve
of your reading material. Sounds like pretty good advice to
me."
"What's going on?" asked Stuart.
"Doing a little browsing in Schopenhauer," said
Pam, holding up her notes.
After a silence, Rebecca broke the impasse. "Tony,
where are you? What's going on with you?"
"Hard for me to talk today," said Tony, shaking his
head. "I feel tied up, like I'm frozen solid."
To everyone's surprise, Philip responded, "I think I
understand your bind, Tony. It's like Julius said, you're
caught between two conflicting requirements: you're
expected to work in the group by freely expressing
yourself, and at the same time you're trying to honor your
allegiance to Pam."
"Yep, I see that," Tony replied, "but seeing is not
enough, doesn't free me up. But still, thanks. And here's
one back to you. What you just said a minute ago--you
know, supporting Julius's point--well, that's a first for
you--I mean not challenging him--a big change, man."
"Understanding, you say, is not enough. What else is
needed?" Philip asked.
Tony shook his head. "This ain't easy today."
"I think I know what would help," said Julius,
turning toward Tony. "You and Pam are avoiding one
another, not expressing your feelings. Maybe you're saving
it to talk about later. I know it's awkward, but can you
make a start on doing it here? Perhaps try talking to each
other, not to us."
Tony took a deep breath and turned to Pam. "I don't
feel good about this, feel off balance. I'm pissed at the way
all this played out. I can't get my mind around why not a
phone call to me first, to talk it over, get me on board for
today?"
"Sorry. But we both knew this had to come out
sometime. We talked about that."
"That's it? That's all you got to say? And what about
tonight? Are we still on?"
"It would be too awkward to see you. The rules here
are to talk about all relationships, and I want to honor my
contract with the group. I can't go on with this; maybe after
the group ends--"
"You have a most convenient and flexible
relationship to contracts," interrupted Philip, showing
uncharacteristic signs of agitation. "You honor them when
it suits you. When I discuss honoring my past social
contract with you, you revile me. Yet you break the rules of
the group, you play secret games, you use Tony
capriciously."
"Who are you to speak of contracts?" Pam shot back
loudly. "What about the contract between teacher and
student?"
Philip looked at his watch, stood up, and announced,
"Six o'clock. I have fulfilled my time obligations." He left
the room muttering, "Enough wallowing in muck today."
It was the first time anyone other than Julius had
ever ended a meeting.
37
_________________________
Everyonewh
o
is
in
love will
experience
an
extraordin
ary
disillusio
nment
after the
pleasure
is finally
attained;
and
he
will
be
astonished
that what
was
desired
with such
longing
achieves
nothing
more than
what every
other
sexual
satisfacti
on
achieves,
so that he
does
not
see
hims
elf
very much
benefited
by it.
_________________________
Leaving the group room did not clear the muck from
Philip's mind. He walked down Fillmore Street assailed by
anxiety. What had happened to his arsenal of self-soothing
techniques? Everything that had for so long provided him
structure and serenity was unraveling--his mental
discipline, his cosmic perspective. Struggling for
equanimity, he instructed himself: Don't struggle, don't
resist, clear your mind; do nothing but watch the passing
show of your thoughts. Just let thoughts drift into
consciousness and then drift away.
Things drifted in all right, but there was no drifting
out. Instead, images unpacked their bags, hung up their
clothes, and set up housekeeping in his mind. Pam's face
drifted into view. He focused on her image, which, to his
astonishment, transformed itself by shedding years: her
features grew younger, and soon the Pam he had known so
many years ago stood before him. How strange it was to
descry the young in the old. He usually imagined the
opposite trajectory--seeing the future in the present, the
skull underlying the unblemished skin of youth.
How radiant her face! And such astonishing clarity!
Of all the hordes, the hundreds, of women whose bodies he
had entered and whose faces had long faded, melding into
one archetypal visage, how was it possible that Pam's face
persisted in such remarkable detail?
Then, to his amazement, sharper memory snippets of
the young Pam slipped into view: her beauty, her giddy
excitement as he tied her wrists with his belt, her cascade of orgasms. His own sexual excitement remained as a vague
body memory--a wordless, heaving sensation of pelvic
thrusting and exultation. He remembered, too, lingering in
her arms for much too long. It was for that precise reason
he had regarded her as dangerous and had resolved on the
spot not to see her again. She represented a threat to his
freedom. The quarry he sought was quick sexual release--
that was his license to blessed peace and solitude. He never
wanted carnality. He wanted freedom; he wanted to escape
from the bondage of desire in order to enter, however
briefly, the true philosophers' will-free clearing. Only after sexual release could he think elevated thoughts and join his