“In our last session, you mentioned a traumatic experience involving a wheel of Brie, but we ran out of time. Would you care to share that now?”
“I can’t. It’s too disturbing.”
“Maybe we could try a word association. When you think of the incident, just tell me the first word that comes to mind.”
He was digging now. Trying to peel back my defences like the layers of the onion.
“Look, Doc. You weren’t there, okay? Have you ever seen two woman go at a baked Brie before,” I demanded.
“No. No, I have never seen that, but I did walk in on my wife with a bag of Doritos.”
He was trying to empathize with me. Was he feeding me a bullshit story? I probed him on details, “What flavour?”
“Sweet Chilli Heat.”
His response was too quick to be fabricated and his body language was sound, unless of course, his story about his wife was premeditated.
I wanted more detail. “And..,” I asked.
He was on the ball. “I really think our time here would be better served if we discussed you, not me.”
I looked up at the clock. Ten minutes into an hour long session. I wasn’t going to run the timer down this time.
“Alright Doc. You wanna know. One word that describes what I saw. Ravenous. They were rav-en-ous. I’m talking like starving animal ravenous.”
I continued, “Us men were next door. You know, just having a few beers. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. Decided to call it an early night. I said goodnight and walked back to my house.”
“As I entered the house there was the immediate stench of Brie. It was overpowering, like wet socks. The house was warm. I knew the oven had been on. I had this premonition of what I was walking into.”
I was starting to shake a little. The psychologist took a step in my direction, “It’s okay. Please, continue.”
“There they were, with the Brie baker between them. There was a gaping hole where the cheese had been punctured by the Melba toast when it was still warm. It was cool now, and their steely knives dug into the play-dough-like cheese.”
I shuddered at the thought of the ladies smacking their lips. The sound of their mouth-breathing still gnawed at my eardrums.
“They were applying the cheese to the crackers, but it had congealed too much. Some of the crackers were breaking under the pressure. Crumbs were everywhere. Their hands moved jerkily to pick up the pieces, like a sparrow bobbing its head to pluck seeds from the sidewalk.”
“That’s when they heard me enter the room. They turned. Their debauchery was fully realized. Grease-laden faces of guilt stared back at me. My stomach lurched as I contemplated the horrific scene.”
The Doctor had taken another step closer. I put my head on his shoulder and wept.