The Book of Jeremy

‘I mean, you tell me — am I the biggest hypocrite alive?’ I said, pulled out a cigarette, stuck it in my mouth. ‘Week after week, I stand up there, flapping my gums, feeding them stories I don’t even believe anymore. Just lies. All of it.’

‘Jeremy, please.’ Heinmenner raised his hand. ‘I have two more patients after you.’ He pointed at the cigarette.

‘The one-on-ones are the worst. I have a meeting with this kid tomorrow. Naive one,’ I said, staring at the coffee table between us but not really seeing it. ‘He says he wants to follow in my footsteps. Wants to get more involved, all that crap. And I’m supposed to sit there, nodding like I’m some proud mentor.’

I flicked the lighter in my hand.

‘But the kids are easy. The adults? Or worse — the pensioners? They’re the real rot. They sit across from me, every day, unloading the same garbage — affairs they can’t stop, money they blew, things they pretend to regret. Same guilt, same lies, just recycled or wrapped in different paper. They don’t want to change. They want to feel lighter for five minutes, then crawl back to whatever filth they came from. They yap. I listen. Next week, they show up with new excuses.’

I took a breath. It didn’t help.

‘I’m a hustler. A fraud. A conman. That’s what I am. But I’m too deep now. I can’t stop.’

‘Why?’

‘WHY?’ I got up, cigarette still in my mouth. ‘Oh, I don’t know — how about the alimony? How about my ex sucking me dry, huh? What about that? Should I show you the invoices?’

I rubbed my temples. Kept pacing.

‘And my kids… those ungrateful little pricks. Spoiled like royalty. You give them everything — iPhones, designer bullshit, private schools, therapists on speed dial — and they still act like you’ve failed them. They sit there scrolling, barely looking up, judging you while you pay for their braces, their ski trips, their freaking gap years so they can “find themselves” in Bali. I work my ass off so they can post pictures of smoothies and sunsets like it all just falls from the sky.’

Heinmenner shifted, but I wasn’t done.

‘Oh, since the talk’s on parasites — how about Tanya?’

‘Your new girlfriend,’ he said, trying to keep track.

‘That Russian walking lip filler thinks Louis Vuitton is a human right.’

I cracked my fingers.

‘Then there’s crypto. Some young prick from Vilnius told me it was safe. Nothing’s safe. I loaned fifty grand from that guy,’ I said. ‘Ever try explaining a crypto collapse to a Lithuanian with a steel pipe? They don’t do spreadsheets. They do kneecaps. KNEECAPS!’

I kept listing things while the unlit cigarette bounced between my teeth. Kept pouting, kept venting, until I ran out of steam and dropped back into the chair.

‘So why? Oh, I don’t know, doc — YOU TELL ME WHY!’

I took my eyes off him and looked around the office.

The bookshelf was loaded with titles no one reads, all perfectly lined up like soldiers guarding his credibility. The clock on the wall ticked too loud for the size of the space. A polished wooden table with a box of tissues perfectly centered, like it had been measured with a ruler. A little plant sat by the window — half-alive, like everything else in here. The air smelled faintly of old carpet and cheap air freshener.

‘When do you think it all started?’ he finally broke the silence.

‘What?’

He tilted his head, like the answer was obvious. I thought about it for a moment.

‘Probably after Katie,’ I said, flicking the cigarette in my hand. ‘After she asked for the divorce.’

‘Katie was the...’

‘The first one,’ I glanced at him. He should know that shit by now.

‘The one you cheated on?’

‘Well, don’t make me the asshole in this story now. She was the one constantly bitching — I didn’t pay enough attention, I didn’t “connect,” I didn’t ask enough open-ended questions about her day. Like I’m supposed to interview my own wife every night. She pushed me away. And man’s gotta eat.’ I smirked.

For a second, I thought about her. She drove me insane, sure. Always something — my tone, my schedule, my face.

But she never touched a cent after the split. One of the few that didn’t ask for alimony.

Yeah… maybe she wasn’t that bad.

She made a mean lasagna, too. And she laughed at my jokes, at least in the beginning.

Hell, she even put up with my mother.

I don’t know. Maybe if we met at a different time.

Or maybe I would’ve screwed it up anyway.

‘But that’s when I realized it’s all a big nothin’...’ I said.

‘What’s a big nothing?’

‘Everything.’

I let it hang in the air. We sat there in silence. My mouth went dry. I rubbed my chest, right where the flask sat inside my jacket pocket.

‘How’s your drinking?’

‘What?’ I snapped, halfway out of the chair again.

Heinmenner didn’t flinch. Just glanced down at his notepad, then back up at me.

‘I have one or two in the evening. I’m stressed. I’m depressed. I’m depre-stressed.’ I laughed. ‘How else am I supposed to get through all this sober? It’s like trying to swim across the Atlantic with a hangover and a concrete block tied to your ankles while piranhas are chewing on your toes.’

‘Are you drunk now?’

‘IS THIS WHAT WE'RE DOING? Am I drunk? That’s your angle? That’s the big breakthrough? Who gives a shit if I’m drunk or not?’

‘Were you drunk last night?’

‘Last night when?’

‘During your sermon. When you delivered this, I must say, beautiful story about Jacob and his unrelenting love for Rachel,’ he said — and I froze.

‘You were there?’

‘Oh, yes,’ he continued, shifting in his chair. ‘I never do this. I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s borderline unethical for a therapist to stalk his patient like that, but… I don’t know.’

‘What?’

He glanced around, like he was checking if someone might be listening. Then he leaned in, and like an idiot, I leaned in too — like we were about to trade nuclear codes.

‘I felt like something pushed me there, you know?’ His voice dropped. His eyes locked on mine. ‘I heard this… I don’t know. This voice in my head telling me to go. To see you. To listen—’

‘You were there last night?’ I asked again, still trying to process it.

‘I did. And I found your sermon phenomenal. One might think the Old Testament is nothing but fire and judgment. And yet, there we are — the exposition of a man like Jacob.’ He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. ‘A liar. A deceiver. A manipulator from birth. Schemes his way through life. Cheats his brother, tricks his father, negotiates with God himself. And yet…’

He looked down at his feet.

‘And yet — he works seven years for the woman he loves. And when his master cheats him, gives him the wrong sister, he works another seven. Fourteen years.’

He paused.

‘That kind of love… most people wouldn’t last two days. But he stays. He works. Because he wants her. Nothing else. Not pride. Not revenge. Just her. And for that, he gives fourteen years of his life.’

I hid my face in my hand and sighed. I was finished. Done. I could feel my temples pulsing under my fingers.

Then I heard it — his breath hitching, the wet sound in his nose, him trying to pull it back. I peeked through my fingers. He was crying now.

‘Hey… what’s wrong?’

‘It just reminds me of my late wife,’ he said, grabbing a tissue from the box on the table. His voice cracked. ‘Oh, how I loved her!’ And now he sobbed out loud.

‘Hey, hey,’ I said softly, standing up, stepping toward him.

‘I would’ve worked fifty years for her,’ he choked. ‘I would’ve handed that cancer my own pancreas if it bought me one more hour with her.’

I put my hand on his shoulder. He kept weeping.

‘She’s with the Lord now,’ I said. My jaw locked so hard my molars ached. ‘Sometimes the gardener cuts the most beautiful flowers first — so the rest have room to grow.’ It felt like chewing glass — every word grinding against my teeth.

‘OH BUT HOW CAN I GROW WITHOUT HER!’ he screamed, then collapsed forward, arms wrapping around me, clinging like a drowning man. His shoulders shook as he wept into my chest.

I placed my hand on his back.

‘The soil never asks why the seed must break to grow,’ I said softly. ‘But without the breaking, there’s no life,’ I added, and for a moment, I thought I might gag on my own voice.

‘THERE’S NO LIFE WITHOUT HER! WHY DID HE HAVE TO TAKE HER FROM ME!’

‘Because sometimes, He takes what we cherish most… to draw us closer to Him,’ I said, swallowing hard.

It went on for another twenty minutes that felt like three hours. His sobbing came in waves. My head pulsed. The clock kept ticking, louder with every second. At some point, I just stared at the wall, counting the knots in the wood paneling, trying not to lose my mind.

Finally, Heinmenner pulled himself together. He wiped his face, glanced at the clock, then back at me.

‘Thank you,’ he said, standing up like he was about to leave his own office.

‘Doc…’ I said.

He looked at me, then at the chair, like suddenly remembering who was supposed to be who here.

‘Oh,’ he blinked, catching himself.

I stood, walked to the door.

‘Jeremy… thank you. I won’t be charging you for this—’

I didn’t catch the rest. I slammed the door and stepped outside. The cold air hit my face like a slap. For a second, it actually felt good to breathe.

I lit a cigarette, dug out my phone, and called my assistant.

‘Hello.’ That soft voice was music to my ears.

‘Hey, sexy. What are you wearing?’

‘Give me a moment, Pastor, you’re on speaker,’ she said and I pictured our little shared office above the church — two other pastors, three assistants, everyone pretending not to listen while quietly soaking up every word. Like a gossip factory with Bibles on the shelves.

I fished the flask from inside my jacket, unscrewed it, and took a long pull. The warmth spread through my chest like a hug from an old friend.

‘Okay, now. How was the appointment?’

‘I need you to find me another guy,’ I said.

‘What? Again?’