𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻
Beyond The Looking Glass is the second book in the Unseen series, a story that came to me from the other side. A story where I thought I was just the narrator until I heard the Words of the Unseen.
This second story goes beyond time and place and mixes the long ago with the here and now. Because history keeps repeating, until we learn and do something about it.
Beyond The Looking Glass - Words of the Unseen - Chapter 82
I still don't know for sure how it is possible that a woman with such a high IQ, by her own admission, suddenly makes so many errors in judgment.
The family doctor was one, telling my friends the second, and her urge to have me declared autistic was the last straw.
Was she that sure of herself?
I mean I was already convinced, but did she think that with that label I had no other choice but to accept that things were my fault?
For me, it was clear that it was me, that I was not normal.
To me, it was already clear that my running away during her endless arguments.
My need for control and structure in the household.
My problem with changing plans at the last minute.
My lack of need for physical contact with her, they were all mine.
Why did she need it in writing that my quirks all could contributed to autism?
When I look at that boy in that situation now, I feel so much for him. He had given his word that he would take care of his family in good times and bad. And there he was.
Alone on Saturday mornings behind the laptop he had seen all week.
Contact with his mother broken, his friendships largely watered down, his glory days as a DJ a distant past, and without a future.
He worked hard but had to start at the bottom of the ladder, among many others who, like him.
A poor salary that always turned out to be too little and in which there seemed to be little progress. Even when there was progress, it was quickly eaten up by extra costs.
His moments were minimal, they were those minutes few minutes he truly had for himself.
That little daily journey to work and back. Every morning he walked to that bus, for a moment he was free. Free from his family, and not yet under the yoke of his boss.
A bus ride of half an hour, hoping that the one lady would be on that bus. That nice young girl, also the only young girl who, like him, regularly took that morning bus.
How old would she be? Late twenties at most, and me? I was at least 10 years older, but what does that matter?
Her full thighs, her smaller but clearly present belly, and her sweet face gave just that little bit of light at the beginning of yet another dark day.
It must have been my imagination but sometimes I thought she secretly looked at me. There were even days when the seat next to her was unoccupied and I saw my chance to be very close to her.
Very carefully I tried to catch a glance of her, never too obvious, because the last thing I wanted was to bother her. So most of my journey my eyes were focused on her full round thighs.
As soon as I got out I had 40 minutes to live, a walk from the bus stop to the office.
Thanks to that walk I had not yet needed a psychiatrist.
I was alive, in my head, but alive.
For forty minutes I enjoyed watching people, the music in my ears, the sun, the streets, my freedom.
My freedom was reduced to 40 minutes a day, but I had freedom.
That boy, with his forty minutes of freedom a day, was now at home.
He had lost his last bit of freedom because she now could control the entire day.
And yet, it all started falling apart.
Deliah suggested I visit the psychologist who shared an office with her. This way we could have our sessions at the same time. She could drive and I could support her and would not have to go on a different day, by bus, and be away for half a day.
Again I did not see and thought that it would be indeed the most efficient way. Until something strange happened, after the first five intake sessions, this lady told me that she did not want to continue.
I thought it must be my terrible Spanish that she could not work with, but she told me something differently.
She tried to bring it up in the politest way possible by saying that in her professional opinion, it would be better if I looked for another psychologist.
Confused I asked if something was wrong, why would I look for another? Did I do something wrong? Because if not the current setup was very convenient as we could both visit at the same time.
Her eyes told me that she was having a difficult time. But she found words;
"I think it´s better if you find your own, place. Your wife has been here longer and she is on the other side of that wall," she tried.
I did not get it and went mansplaining the benefits of the combined visits.
This young lady had gotten this helpless look in her eyes, she clearly did not succeed in getting this message across without saying what she did not want to say.
"Look I think it´s better for you to find your own place, away from her," the look changed.
"She sits at the other side of the wall, talking to my colleague but all she talks about is you. You really would be better off when you are away from her."
Next Chapter Coming in Two Days
Post Related To Closing Book One and Opening Book Two
The Closure A Personal Story With A Soundtrack:
Personal Story With A Soundtrack - A New Adventure - Part 1
Personal Story With A Soundtrack - A New Adventure - Part 2
The Closure - Greatest Hits For A Never-Ending Story:
Greatest Hits From My Book "Beyond Doubt: Whispers of the Unseen"
The Closure - Alice in ArtWorkLand:
ALICE In AI ArtWorkLand - A Crazy Man´s Revelations