I don’t suppose you heard about it. Were there any rumours? Not that there are any reasons why there should be chatter. It was only relevant to me. Or to me and those involved.
There was a man in trouble who needed help. I was chosen. At the time I thought the allocation a random one, but now I’m not so sure. Given what happened, I now wonder if he might have been allocated to me as a final case, a reward for long service. Talking with you now, perhaps I’m in-line for a gold watch and a ‘desk job’ — not that you’ll really know what those are…
Or was it a test?
Anyway, this poor man — shall we call him John? — was in love with a woman, Florence. It was a desperate love driven by his unshakeable belief that Florence was his soul-mate, that they were meant to be together. But although she liked him, Florence was romantically indifferent. What made matters worse for John was that there was another woman, Tamsin, who was in love with him. Indeed, in many respects it was the John-Florence scenario in reverse. Make no mistake, John liked Tamsin; indeed he found her very attractive, and a life with her would have been appealing had it not been for his unshakeable passion for Florence.
John needed help, that much was obvious.
I was sent to talk to him, but initially didn’t get very far; there was too much noise and confusion in his head for him to hear me clearly. No matter how hard I tried nor the methods I used to get through, there was always something in the way. If I was to help him then I needed to get inside him to better understand what he was facing.
There have always been stories about those who are given the privilege to briefly inhabit someone. They’re quiet myths that circulate in the ether and which no-one seems prepared to confirm or deny. But I now know — and I’m happy telling you this because of who you are — that they’re true. One minute I was trying to communicate with John, and the next I was John. Oh, not in the sense of taking over his body or saying his words, but rather experiencing what he was experiencing, feeling what he was feeling. And the poor man was in turmoil! It was no wonder I couldn’t get through to him!
I quickly learned that although we think we understand passion, we really don’t — at least not the human kind. And as for conflict and confusion, desperation and uncertainty… Poor John was a mess. Despite the good that was happening in his life, his only focus was the stark choice between remaining faithful to Florence knowing they would never be together, or accept a life with Tamsin knowing that in doing so he would be betraying Florence. It was an impossible conundrum for him, and I’d never experienced anything like it. It was as if there were two rights and two wrongs each vying to occupy the same space in his head.
Clearly I couldn’t make his decision for him, that wasn’t why I was there. And anyway, after just a few days I was useless, as confused as he was! All I could do was to try and help him unravel things, to “see the wood for the trees” as the expression goes. I tried to reduce the level of noise, to untangle the threads of his thinking.
Some of what I tried worked; I’m sure it did. But I’m not sure it made his choice any the easier. Indeed, it can’t have. When I left him (not at my request, by the way) he was still as uncertain as ever — but at least the noise had died down a little. If I can take credit for anything then it’s that.
In the end he chose neither Florence nor Tamsin. Resolved that neither option could be taken, he chose a more radical path, moving jobs and moving home to many miles away. It was as much as a re-set as he could manage.
Having been him for a while I’m not sure that’s the outcome I would have chosen. But which would I have picked? I can still hear the chaos in my own head. Perhaps I won’t get another assignment until I find a way of ridding myself of that.
The narrative voice is great here!