Poetic Injustice

“Hello. It's so nice to see you again, Mrs. Madden,” I exclaimed as I ran my fingers through the gray wavy hair on the side of my head, a behavior that did nothing to my hair but had become a habit for years. “Well hello to you, Mr. Sure. What’s with the formality?” “Oh well, nothing really. I’m just trying to be respectful.” “I told you, Jon, I am an Island girl, and we don’t play games where I come from.” Ah yes, the “island girl” comment. Mrs. Madden never let me forget that she was a young woman who came to this country in her late teens from Trinidad. She was raised as a devote Catholic by her mother and named by her father who had immigrated to Trinidad from India. Pressured into a marriage that she regretted by her mother; she married Dr. Mahajan, a well-known and highly recognized surgeon. “Well,” I said, “if you don’t like formality, why do you refer to your husband as Dr. Mahajan?” “That’s something entirely different.” “Why?” I inquired. “Because he is a medical doctor and is given that respect.” Her voice was firm, as she responded. Is she insulting me? I wondered as I leaned back in my chair and began writing notes on the clipboard which lay on my lap. I swallowed, feeling that I might be entering a forbidden topic but continued. “But shouldn’t you have the intimacy of calling him by his first name? I mean, after all, he is your husband.” Having said this, I realized I did not know her husband’s first name as I too was introduced to him only as “Dr. Mahajan” and thus called him by this title. She leaned back in her chair and let out a long sigh. Then looking straight at me she said, “Jon, it’s not like that. Dr. Mahajan and I have not been physically intimate in many months now. He loves me and he is a good man, but I don’t love him in the same way that he loves me. Do you understand what I am saying?” Her response surprised me. She paused for a moment then leaned close to me and began staring into my eyes. I was starting to feel uncomfortable and pushed my chair back just a few inches with my feet. I felt heat on my face and wondered if I was blushing. “With you, Jon,” she continued, “I can be myself. I can tell you things straight from my heart. You are more than just a therapist; it’s more like you’re a close friend with whom I can confide. That’s something I’ve needed in my life for a long time now.” Her voice softened even more as she continued. “Dr. Mahajan has his medical friends and he is a scientist, through and through.” She began looking down towards the floor, and I could sense a sadness overcoming her. “He doesn’t have time for romance and, quite frankly, I am not interested in entertaining any of his advances.”