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Dr. Balis:
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Well hello there, Decker. It's nice to see you again. You look good.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Don't sound so--what's the word I'm looking for?--sure. What did you expect, to see me all dirty or something?
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Dr. Balis:
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Well, I must admit that I didn't expect to see you in such high spirits. I mean it, you really look good.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Well thank you, Doctor. I've gone through some changes since I saw you last. But before we get into all that, I've got something I would like to say to you.
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Dr. Balis:
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Go ahead, Decker. I'm listening.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Well, I want to thank you, Doctor Balis. You've been very important to me in the short time that I've known you. You see, when I first walked through your door, I thought my life was over. I didn't have anyone to turn to. Mr. Knopff was a nice enough man, but he really didn't want to hear about my problems. I guess if he had to listen to my problems, it'd have made his life more miserable than it already was. Mr. Knopff recently lost his wife and his only son in a car accident, and he was on the verge of losing his mind, too. So talking to him just wasn't the answer. He knew it, and so did I. I was a lost soul, and you helped me find it. I know that this is your job and all and you get paid very well to perform that job, but I just wanted to tell you that I consider you a friend. Whether you consider me a friend doesn't really concern me. I feel comfortable enough with the fact that I finally have a friend that I can confide in and trust--even if it is a one-sided friendship. So I guess all I'm saying is thank you, Doctor.
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Dr. Balis:
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Well, you're welcome. And I do care about you, Decker, and I want to help you succeed and live a happy life.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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I appreciate it.
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Dr. Balis:
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Good. So how are you doing these days?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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I'm all right, Doctor. It's great to be back here. I really missed this little office and the comfy chairs.
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Dr. Balis:
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Hmm.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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It's true, I did miss this place. It seems like it's the only place I was able to be myself. The entire time I was in Chicago, Simian kept telling me that I needed to get back here and talk to you.
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Dr. Balis:
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Hmm.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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You don't seem surprised that I mentioned Simian?
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Dr. Balis:
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To be quite frank, I'm not. I assume you stopped taking your medication--if not when you stormed out of here, then when your prescription ran out. I'm sure that after you stopped taking it, Simian returned.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Well, you're right. But he's not the same person he was before. I thought he'd be extremely angry with me for trying to rub him out, but he wasn't. I feel bad; I really hurt the old fellow. I hurt his feelings. But when he came back, he told me that the last thing he wanted was to drive me into an insane asylum.
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Dr. Balis:
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So he hasn't been harassing you?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Well, he has his moments of annoyance just like any other person, but he doesn't force me into making irrational decisions anymore. He lets me think my decisions through without interjecting. Of course, when I make a decision that he doesn't agree with, he tells me what he would do and he might put me down for not listening, but he's fair. I'd consider him a friend, except I know that he's just me. Sometimes I have a difficult time remembering that he's not a real person but rather a figment of my own imagination. I guess he's really my imaginary friend--sounds kind of funny, doesn't it, Doctor? I mean a twenty-six year old man playing with his imaginary friend? It's kind of like that movie with Phoebe Cates where she has an imaginary friend named Fred. I can never remember the names of movies. Anyway, I told my father about you and Simian, and he said that you would probably think I was a schizo. Do you think I'm schizo, Doctor?
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Dr. Balis:
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I believe you're suffering from schizophrenia. Do you think you are?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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I don't really know. I do know that it's a little strange that I talk to Simian like I talk to you--out loud, I mean. But maybe that's just the way I deal with things. I never had any friends growing up--Karen wouldn't allow it. So I had to do something to gain companionship. Boy, that bitch really fucked me up, didn't she, Doctor?
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Dr. Balis:
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A mother always has a strong effect on her children. When she is abusive, like Karen was, then that effect can be strongly negative.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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That would be an understatement. Simian has asked me if I'm sorry that she is gone. That's a very tough question to answer. I'm sorry that she felt so much pain. But, on the other hand, I'm not sorry that she's no longer around. Is that bad?
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Dr. Balis:
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I think that it's not unusual for an abused person to feel the way you do. Karen was a troubled woman. I'm not trying to justify what she did to you, but she had some major problems, too.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Yeah, I understand that after talking to my father.
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Dr. Balis:
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Why don't you tell me more about your father?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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I'm not sure if I have time to tell the whole story...
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Dr. Balis:
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Well, you can start. And if we run out of time, you can finish next week.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Okay, that sounds fair. Well, I guess I'll start a few days after I ran out of our last session. I went back to Karen's house. I was going through some things and found a bank statement in a desk in her room. As you can imagine, I had a hard time going through that desk, because I was never even allowed in her room, let alone the desk. Anyway, the statement was addressed to me. I was shocked--I never got mail. The statement was postmarked on April 8, 1992--my twenty-first birthday. I wanted to find out more, so I called the number on the bank statement. They told me that they had some kind of savings bond in my name that was worth over $250,000 and I could claim it with identification. So I went to Chicago--a huge step for a guy that rarely left his own room.
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Dr. Balis:
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That was a pretty big step.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Anyway, I got to Chicago, found the bank, showed them my ID, and walked out with a cashiers check for $253,987.46. It was as easy as that. I thought that they'd make me strip down or something. I didn't know what to expect, you know? Then I took a cab back to O'Hare and started to wonder for the first time where this money came from. I'm sure Karen didn't give it to me. So I went back to the bank to see if I could find out who had started the bond for me. They told me that a man by the name of Anthony Parish started the bond in June of 1971 for his son--me. The only address they gave me was Karen's--right here in San Francisco. I almost passed out. Karen always told me that my father didn't exist. I assumed that he was one of Karen's one-nighters. Karen never spoke of him, and whenever I asked I was hit. I guess I just assumed he was a loser or something. So I decided to stay in Chicago and see if I could find him.
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Dr. Balis:
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This is really a fascinating story, Decker.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Yeah, and there's a lot more.
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Dr. Balis:
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Why don't we stop here and continue next week?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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That's fine with me.
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Dr. Balis:
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Decker, before you go, I want to know how you feel about going back on your medication?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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I really don't think that's necessary, Doctor. I feel much better, and Simian is not bothering me at all.
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Dr. Balis:
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I agree that you seem to be very good. But as a precautionary measure...
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Mr. Jenkins:
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I really don't want to take it, Doctor. It don't feel clear-headed when I'm on that stuff. How about we make a pact? If you feel that Simian is interfering with my rational thinking and if I feel that he's bothering me, then I'll start taking it again. But right now, I want to see what will happen if I don't take it. While I was in Chicago, I survived fine without it.
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Dr. Balis:
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Hmm. Okay. I won't force you to take medication. But if I see any signs of negative behavior from you or from Simian, then you have to take it. Deal?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Fair enough. Deal.
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Dr. Balis:
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It was good seeing you, Decker. Same time next week?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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That's fine. Oh, one more thing. I've been writing a little--just some poems, I guess you'd call them that. Would you like to see them? They might give you some insight to my being.
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Dr. Balis:
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Yes, that would be good.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Okay, here they are.
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Dr. Balis:
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I'll read them this week.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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I'll see you next week then. Goodbye, Doctor Balis.
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Dr. Balis:
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Goodbye, Decker.
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###
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Doctor Balis' Notes on this Session
Transcripts of Decker Jenkins' Communications
