Michael on Mondays

I knew Michael on Mondays. I was his therapist for almost two years and he came to my home office almost every Monday afternoon. He was sweet. A shy kid, 19 years old when I first met him, and it took quite a while to get him to open up about his real problems, but eventually he did.

“Michael, why don’t we pick up where we left off last week. You were talking about the pressure you were feeling at home from your father and your brothers. You said that this has been going on for a long time but we didn’t really get into the details. Perhaps you can tell me more now?”

Michael paused and stared down at the floor. When he spoke he did not look up.

“I looked it up online and what it said was that you have an obligation to report an imminent threat of harm to law enforcement. Is that true?

“Yes, Michael. That is correct. That is one of the few circumstances under which the confidentiality of what you tell me during our sessions cannot be maintained. It's important that you understand that.”

He just continued to stare down at the floor.

“Michael, are you feeling physically or…maybe sexually threatened at home? Because if so you can tell me and there are ways that we can get you help immediately.”

His head shot up and he looked me in the eyes then and waved his outstretched palms.

“No. No. Trust me, it’s nothing like that. It’s a totally different thing.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me as much as you can without crossing the line into imminent threats of harm and we can go from there. I don’t work in law enforcement. I care about helping you.”

Once again he bowed his head and turned his eyes to the floor between his feet.

“It’s complicated but I know I have already told you a little bit about my family. My father was a key contributor to the Human Genome Project. After that he launched his own clinic and consulting firm, both specializing in matters related to human reproduction and various other related BioSciences. He is well known and respected in his field and he does very well. We live up in Holmby Hills. It's a really nice neighborhood.”

He went quiet.

“Okay, yes. I remember all of that. How close can we get to the specific source of your problems?”

He remained quiet for a time.

“Well, one of my brothers is behaving more and more strangely. Last week he stubbed out a lit cigarette on the back of his hand at the dinner table for no reason at all. It’s just making me feel uncomfortable, I guess.”

More silence and carpet-gazing.

“That does sound disturbing. I can understand your pressure being around that sort of thing.”

“That’s the least of it. There are so many other things. Far more disturbing things that keep me up at night. Last Thursday my brother...”

He went silent then.

“Michael, I am growing concerned for your safety. Can you please open up a little more. If your brother needs help, we can get that for him.”

"I don't know," he said. He looked very nervous. Distressed. "I just think we shouldn't go there. You really don't want to go there."

Then he stood up and ducked his head and donned his Dodgers baseball cap. We still had 40 minutes remaining in that day's session.

“I have to leave.”

++++++++++++

The next morning Michael called me and asked if he could schedule another appointment later that day or the following day. I told him I was free at 3:30 the next day and we confirmed it. I had a strong feeling that he had gone home and slept on our words together and was perhaps now ready to share some of the vital details that we had been dancing around for so long now. Perhaps we could move forward.

When Michael arrived for that session I was a bit surprised. I had never seen him with any facial hair before. He was always clean-shaven. That day he looked to have a few days of growth. I chalked this up to his situation at home. It is not uncommon for people to let their personal grooming and hygiene practices slide a bit when they are under high levels of stress, which he clearly was.

“Well Michael, I have to say that I was a bit surprised to receive your call requesting another session this week. We have never done this before so I have to assume something urgent is going on that we need to discuss. Are you prepared to tell me a little more now?”

He stared straight at me.

“Well, you remember what we discussed on Monday, right?”

“Of course I do. We discussed your father’s career in the BioScience industry and the pressure you receive from him and your brothers at home.”

He continued to stare. I wasn't used to so much eye contact from him. I was growing increasingly concerned.

“Not much more though. I would like to know more. You told me that one of your brothers has been disturbing you with his behavior, but not much else. What is your brother’s name by the way? Let's start there, so I at least have a name to work with.”

"I think you should just leave off on this matter."

He got up and walked out without saying another word. I was definitely concerned at that point and not exactly sure what to do.

++++++++++++

The next morning I was relieved when Michael called me to apologize and said that he wanted to come back in as soon as possible. Maybe we would finally get somewhere this time. I told him I would clear my schedule any time that day for him to come in. I don’t usually cancel my scheduled sessions but this was clearly urgent. This young man needed help. I just didn’t know what kind yet.

When he arrived that afternoon his face was clean-shaven once again. A good sign. But he seemed just a little bit taller and a little bit broader in the shoulders. The muscles in his arms seemed a little stronger. Not important. Perhaps it was just my imagination.

“So are we ready to talk about this?”

“Yeah, I’m ready to talk. Let’s get this thing started, Doc.”

His voice had a very different cadence and tone. Mildly threatening.

“Okay, where would you like to start?”

He lit a cigarette.

“Michael, what are you doing? You can’t smoke in here!” I was stunned.

He took a deep drag and blew the smoke right at me.

“Shut the fuck up. What did my punk-ass brother tell you about me?”

He took another drag and it was then that I saw the cigarette burn on the backside of his right hand. I couldn't speak for a few seconds.

“Are you really Michael?”

He smiled at me and took another long draw on his cigarette.

“Yeah, I’m Michael on Thursdays. I sent Wednesday Michael in to meet with you yesterday, just to see what you had to say. He doesn't talk much. There are seven of us and we each get one day of the week to leave the house. We all look alike and we all have the same name but our personalities are all different in fundamental ways. Our father is insane. That's why his wife left him, but I think it was always his plan to find seven different surrogates for us. We were all born within three weeks of one another. Father has always been one for precision. None of us have birth certificates or Social Security numbers though. Apparently that wasn't important to him. Seems like it might be to us at some point though."

I stared at him, trying to process all of this. He took a final drag on his cigarette and then just casually flicked it off onto the carpet in the corner of the room. I looked towards my cell phone but I just couldn't reach for it.

"Now tell me the truth or, so help me God, I will leave you right here, face down on the floor. You'll be at room temperature when they find you. I promise you this."

After a short pause he added, "To be honest, this is going to happen either way, Doc. It's up to you whether it happens fast or if it happens slow. Trust me, you want it to be fast."

He removed a large buck knife from his jacket pocket and opened it.

"What did Monday Michael tell you about the bodies and who did you tell? And don't lie. You're not as smart as you think you are. I will know if you are lying."

He stood up and slowly walked towards me.

I stared at my cell phone but I just couldn't reach for it.

THE END