Sessions

“Doctor, your 4PM is here.”

“Is it the mysterious K.L. I saw on the schedule?”

“Yes, doctor. And, um, I can see the reason for the, uh, secrecy. He is going to pay cash and wants no records created.”

“What about insurance?”

There was a nervous chuckle over the intercom. “He doesn’t have any.” He heard an amused giggle. “I’ll wager he doesn’t need any.”

“This is highly irregular, Ms. Larson. I’m not sure I can guarantee not creating a file for a patient. Even the president would need…”

“Perhaps it is best you talk to him directly. I think you’ll have a better understanding of his unique situation.”

“Fine, send him in.”

He blustered for a moment, repeating, “Highly irregular,” and sat at his desk chair watching the door.

It opened and his client walked in, tentative as if unsure this decision was wise. He closed the door quickly, again amplifying his cautious and unsure approach. His action was a bit too hasty and he accidentally caught his cape in the door as it closed. He immediately reopened it and yanked the cape inside, holding it back as he attempted to close the door once more.

“Sorry,” he said meekly.

During this brief entrance Dr. Ira Goldstein simply stared. He heard himself say, “It’s you,” for no reason but to acknowledge the man’s shocking, unexpected presence. He would have been less shocked if the President of the United States had come through his door for a session.

He turned, gathered himself up, and strode to the desk. He stretched out a hand and said, “It is my pleasure to meet you, Dr. Goldstein. Thank you for seeing me under these rather unusual conditions. I’m…”

“I know who you are, Su…”

“Just refer to me as K, doctor. It may help both of us distance ourselves from prejudicing our perceptions.”

The doctor took his hand, wincing slightly in fear that his hand might be returned as pulp. The shake was firm but not enough to cause concern.

Dr. Goldstein shook his head slightly. “I guess I can see why you need to take certain precautions. I didn’t quite understand before but, please, rest assured we will do as you requested.”

“So, how do we begin?”

“Um, yes, exactly. Please take a seat wherever you feel comfortable.”

K took a moment and slowly looked around the room then walked to a lounge and sat back, folding his hands together.

“I take it you’ve never had a session with a psychologist previously.”

“You are correct. This is my first.” He turned toward the doctor, a slight flush spreading on his face. “Is it that obvious?”

“You are embarrassed,” Ira said emphatically. “No need to be. Many famous people go to see a psychologist now and again. It is perfectly healthy and most often necessary”

“It is not something people would expect of me. I have a certain…reputation.”

Ira leaned back in his chair. “I’m aware.”

Then there was a long silence which Ira was hesitant to break. Obviously this new experience for his patient was something completely alien. He thought it best for him to lead the session and perhaps then something would manifest. Finally, “I am having a personal crisis.”

“Personal as in your secret identity?” he probed.

K looked at him. “Not specifically. It affects who I am so I am sure it spills over into my alter ego.”

“You do realize that maintaining two separate and completely different identities is not healthy. Many psychological issues can arise from such a situation. You are basically forcing yourself into schizophrenia. Your mind will eventually experience a psychotic break and you will lose the control you currently think you have.”

“You know, I have been doing it my whole life, right?”

“I assume so, yes. That doesn’t mean you are immune from the potential dangers.”

“Yet that isn’t the reason I’m here.” Ira reached for his pad of paper and K held up a hand. “You can’t take notes.”

“But I will need to reference what we talked about from session to session.”

“I don’t think you’ll have too much of a problem remembering what I say.” K spun in his chair and sat up. “I guess now would also be a good time to set some ground rules.”

“Such as?”

“You cannot discuss my session with anyone else. You cannot record anything. I have already scanned your office for any recording devices. You don’t have any.”

Dr Goldstein showed mild disgust. “I could have told you that.”

“Thank you. I needed to be sure. I’ve done my research and picked you due to your clientele. You handle some very famous people…”

“How do you know this? I keep my records very private and secure.” He felt insulted and slightly violated.

“I have my ways. If I can get that information, others can as well. That is why I insist there are no records of any kind.”

“Someone could still see your arrival or watch you leave,” the doctor pointed out.

“I changed in the janitor closet today and I’ll be leaving through the window.”

Ira mumbled again, “Highly irregular.” He scratched at his thick, white hair and offered, “You could show up as your other self and no one would be the wiser, you know.”

“True. But then I would have to divulge who I am since the issue would not make as much sense in that guise. You need to see me as I really am in order to appreciate the depth of my problem.”

“I guess that may be true once I know why you are actually here.”

“You need to understand the situation I am in, doctor. I have to be discreet. People depend on me, look to me as the example of…perfection. I can not appear to be… unbalanced.”

“I will do as you ask and no one will be the wiser.”

“And Ms. Larson?”

“She is beyond reproach.”

“I got that impression while waiting outside.” K decided not to divulge exactly how much research he had done. From using his flight and special vision abilities to scan the doctor’s files from outside the office at 2AM, to recruiting one of his reporter friends to try and bribe Larson into divulging a patient list. This was going to be difficult enough as it was, no sense in building on an unsteady foundation.

“So we can begin?”

“Yes, please. Why don’t you start by defining, as best you can, this crisis you are having.”

K settled back in the lounge and started. “I feel powerless. Inadequate.”

Ira squinted and tilted his head. “But, you are invulnerable. I saw you attacked by an extremely powerful alien years and years ago and he knocked you through a building! You stood up, dusted yourself off, and flew right back into the fray.”

“That did happen. I wasn’t hurt. But I said I felt powerless, not vulnerable.”

Dr Goldstein flexed his hands, the absence of his pad and pen seemed strange and distracting. He was so used to writing these kinds of things down. He folded his arms and tried to fight the impulse, like an itch that desperately needed scratching. “I’ve seen you carry a plane to land safely at the airport. Once you lifted a sinking cruise-liner out of the ocean. I saw it on the news.”

“Yes, I did those things.”

Remembering these fantastical exploits began to get Ira excited as he recounted them to the very being that accomplished them. “There was that time that asteroid was going to collide with the Earth. My God, it was the size of Rhode Island! You flew into space and pushed it out of the way. What powerless person does that?”

K smiled. “Thanks for the memories. Yes, I am very strong. I can do things normal people are amazed by. But that’s not my issue. I am…ineffective.”

“What? Ineffective? How can you even say that? You have saved countless lives in your history. You’ve inspired people everywhere to do good, to try hard, to be the best they can be.”

K smiled. “I think you are quoting a recruitment commercial, doctor.”

“You make light of your accomplishments? You have done things previously thought impossible. Is that your issue - you think them too simple, not appreciated enough? I have to admit, I find that somewhat beneath you.”

“If I had felt down because I was questioning my abilities and their impact, I certainly found the right place to go. You're a one-man cheerleading squad.”

Ira reigned in his enthusiasm. “I apologize, K. That was wholly unprofessional of me. I got caught up in your persona. I’ve been a fan of yours for as long as I can remember. I’ve felt proud to see you get parades and accolades from the leaders of almost every nation. And I will admit, I do own a statue of you that sits on a pedestal in my foyer. Having you here, of all places, seeking what I assume is some form of help or guidance from me, is an honor I cannot put into words. Perhaps I am not the person you should seek out for your conflicts.”

He smiled at Ira, that certain smile that he used to calm victims, to rally the downtrodden, to inspire. “No, I think I have found just the person I need.”

The doctor lowered his head. “Thank you,” he said softly.

K let him have the moment and waited. Ira lifted his head and nodded. “Then let us get started. Please help me understand what shortcoming you are experiencing.”

“As you can tell, I’m having difficulty expressing myself. This isn’t something I am good at. I’m not a great orator or explainer. It is one of the reasons I shy away from interviews and speeches. So, sitting here with you is not overly comfortable despite your encouragement.”

Dr Goldstein stayed silent hoping that K would simply find his pace and continue. He could do nothing if his patient didn’t talk. After a moment K resumed.

“The whole time I have been here I have tried to do the right thing. It was instilled in me as a child. ‘Use your powers for good. Set the example for others. Help those that can’t help themselves. Solve the problem…fix what’s broken.’ All adages from my parents. I think I’ve done that, sometimes at a personal sacrifice.” He looked at Goldstein. “Do you know I’m not married? That I don’t have any children?”

“I guess I assumed. But I don’t know what your life is like outside of your….” He motioned at him from head to toe.

“I’m a bachelor. I can’t really even date.”

“Love?”

K was silent. “Unrequited.”

Goldstein let the weight of that single word settle.

“I guess I could…try and have that special life outside my duties.”

The doctor fixed on the word “duties.” That might be a key to his issues. Possibly even remorse from the demands of his “duties” that rob him of the pleasures the rest of the world take for granted - companionship and love.

“But I only see conflicts and the threat of anyone that found out I was married or had children. Those would be tools or bargaining chips used against me. I couldn’t allow myself to jeopardize someone I loved for my own desires or needs. That’s not who I am.”

“Who exactly are you?”

“I’m that guy you see flying around, saving the planet. That’s me.”

“Is that who you want to be?”

K contemplated the question and then said, “Yes. Yes it is.” Goldstein had developed a good sense of when people would lie or bend the truth to skirt an uncomfortable honesty. He was very sure K had spoken his truth. Whether he counted it as duty or moral obligation, he wanted to be just who he was. If the sessions continued the doctor would try and unearth the seeds planted in his youth that grew into this monumental obligation.

“Then what is this issue you have? It seems you have made peace with your situation. Accepted your responsibility.”

“I have, Dr Goldstein.” His voice, for the first time, seemed small, weak. Resolved. “But it isn’t there that I find my problem. I have long since made the choice that made my life the way it is. Maybe it is inevitable and preordained but I’m okay with that. I actually get great joy in helping people, saving people. It is…rewarding.”

Again Ira let him find his way to the problem. Assemble the thoughts into words that will truly express what haunts him. It came at last.

“The thing is, no matter how tough I am, how strong I am, how many impossible things I can do, I can’t fix a broken heart. I can’t take away sorrow or grief. I am powerless.”

“That is why you are here? This is your conflict?”

“Yes.” He paused, gathering himself to finally fully expose his perceived weakness. “When my dad died I felt my life dim. But, moreover, I could see the effect it had on my mother. She was devastated. Her whole world fell apart. The grief overtook her, rendered her hopeless. The cruelty of it, loving someone almost her complete life and he is taken from her with no chance to get him back. My heart broke twice that day and there was nothing I could do. I could tear a mountain down to dust, fly to the moon and push it out of orbit, or just reunite a child with a missing pet but I could do nothing to save my mother from the pain. Nothing. What use are all these powers if I can’t stop such a horrible injustice or remedy the result?”

Ira watched as he folded inside himself, his own sorrow and inadequacies compounded over and over for all those that he helped but couldn’t save…from grief. His affectation was fading and the real man was exposed before him. He glimpsed two tears fall from his eyes and make small wet circles on his blue costume. “I am the most powerful man in the world and I am helpless when it comes to this. How can I…” A sob escaped him despite his attempts to remain stoic. The illusion he projected, the unbending optimism and strength were crumbling in his misery and feeling of inadequacy. The doctor felt humbled to be in the presence of such a man and see his real self appear between the cracks of his self-styled armor. Never in his life could Ira have imagined such a thing. While he was confident in being able to treat grief, this case would be much deeper and powerful. He knew most humans felt they could wrestle grief into submission, put it out of their minds by their own individual resolve and competency. Only a few realized the extent of the overwhelming sadness and sought help from others, professional or not. But here was a man whose very existence was birthed in invulnerability and strength. One who could do unbelievable feats to save and help all those that suffered. For his entire life he thought of himself as supremely powerful, invulnerable, a Savior of Mankind; there was no threat he couldn’t stop. And suddenly he was faced with a very deep cry for help and he was rendered powerless. A failure for the first time in his life. The impact on his view of himself would suffer tremendously as these new feelings of helplessness would have been previously impossible to imagine.

The session continued and after a time K stood from the chair. Ira watched as he slowly reassembled himself into the hero the public saw. Gone was the broken man that bore a crushing weight of impotence. By his own admission it was a failure that could not be allowed to be seen by those that he swore to protect. Each plate of the armor clicked back into place until he was back to his familiar stance, hands on hips, chest puffed out and shoulders back, his rigid chin leading the way. That confident look on his face with just a hint of a smile that said, “No worries. I’ve got this.”

“Thank you, doctor,” he said, the powerful timbre of his voice returned. The disguise was complete.

“This feeling can be helped, K. But it will require time. Will you return so we can try and mitigate these feelings?”

“Yes. You now know what my trouble is and perhaps you can solve it.”

“I don’t think we will ever solve it, K. But maybe we can find a way for you to live with it.”

He stood, silent, looking out the window at the massive metropolis that stretched to the horizon, skyscrapers reaching for the clouds, millions going about their lives, trying to make sense of it all. Dr Goldstein looked at him, this perfect man, this super hero, and wondered if he sensed all of the people, their problems, their own versions of grief. He could hear a cry for help from miles away but could he hear the crack of a broken heart? What would that be like to know all of that, feel all of that, and know that you were powerless to help?

He turned to Ira and nodded, offering again that tight, assured smile, the illusion of perfection. Then he was gone. A streak of blue and red through the window that didn’t even disturb the blinds.

Yes, what would it be like to have so much power, be able to do so many incredible, impossible things, and not be able to fix a broken heart?

It probably made him feel human.