The Schopenhauer Cure Read Online Free PDF Page B

modest stucco two-story corner building. In the vestibule Julius saw on the directory Philip's name: "Philip Slate Ph.D. Philosophical Counseling." Philosophical counseling? What the hell is that? Next, Julius snorted, it'll be barbers offering tonsorial therapy and greengrocers advertising legume counseling. He ascended the stairs and pressed the bell.
    A buzz sounded as the door lock clicked open, and Julius entered a tiny bare-walled waiting room furnished only with an uninviting black vinyl loveseat. A few feet away, in the doorway to his office, Philip stood and, without approaching, beckoned Julius to enter. No handshake was offered.
    Julius checked Philip's appearance against his memory. Pretty close match. Not much change in the past twenty-five years except for some soft wrinkles about the eyes and slight flabbiness in the neck. His light brown hair still combed straight back, those green eyes still intense, still averted. Julius recalled how rarely their gaze had met in all their years together. Philip reminded him of one of those supremely self-sufficient kids in class who sat in lectures and never took notes, while he and everyone else hustled to jot down every fact that might make an appearance on an exam.
    Entering Philip's office, Julius considered a wisecrack about the Spartan furnishings--a scuffed cluttered desk, two uncomfortable-looking, nonmatching chairs, and a wall adorned only with a diploma. But he thought better of it, sat in the chair Philip indicated, played it straight, and waited for Philip's lead.
    "Well, it has been a long time. Really long." Philip spoke in a formal, professional voice and gave no sign of nervousness about taking charge of the interview and thereby switching roles with his old therapist.
    "Twenty-two. I just looked over my records."
    "And why now, Dr. Hertzfeld?"
    "Does this mean we've finished the small talk?" No, no! Julius chided himself. Cut it out! He remembered that Philip had no sense of humor.
    Philip seemed unperturbed. "Basic interview technique, Dr. Hertzfeld. You know the routine. Establish the frame. We've already set the place, the time--I offer a sixty-minute session, incidentally, not the fifty-minute psych hour--and the fees, or lack thereof. So, next step is to move to purpose and goals. I'm trying to be at your service, Dr. Hertzfeld, to make this session as efficient as possible for you."
    "All right, Philip. I appreciate it. Your 'why now?' is never a bad question--I use it all the time. Focuses the session. Gets us right down to business. As I told you on the phone, some health problems, significant health problems, have resulted in my wanting to look back, appraise things, evaluate my work with patients. Perhaps it's my age--a summing up. I believe when you reach sixty-five you'll understand why."
    "I'll have to take your word on that summing-up process. The reason for your wish to see me or any of your clients again is not immediately apparent to me, and I experience no inclinations in that direction. My clients pay me a fee, and, in return, I give them my expert counsel. Our transaction ends. When we part, they feel they got good value, I feel I gave them full measure. I can't possibly imagine wanting to revisit them in the future.
    But, I am at your service. Where to start?"
    Julius characteristically held little back in interviews. That was one of his strengths--people trusted him to be a straight shooter. But today he forced himself to hold back. He was stunned by Philip's brusqueness, but he wasn't there to give Philip advice. What he wanted was Philip's honest version of their work together, and the less Julius said about his state of mind, the better. If Philip knew about his despair, his search for meaning, his longing to have played some enduring instrumental role in Philip's life, he might, out of a sense of charity, give him just the affirmation he wanted. Or, perhaps, because of his contrariness, Philip might do just the opposite.
    "Well, let