It's All Right With Me Wonder Woman
by Steve Barker

---“So, it’s the records that keep you company,” Dr. Mason said with his chin rested on his knuckle. ---“You could say that, but I don’t look at it that way,” said Doug pushing his glasses up his nose. ---“How do you look at it?” ---“Well, there’s nothing I’d rather do then listen to my records alone in my apartment.” ---“Do you ever listen to records with other people?” ---“I can’t. People talk too much” he had to push his glasses back up again. The glasses were old and slipped off every time his head wasn’t upright. “I don’t understand the people who put music on then talk over it for an evening. That’s not listening to music.” ---“Why not?” ---“If you want to talk, talk, don’t put music on just so you’ll have to talk over it.” ---“Do you ever have people over and not listen to music?” ---“No.” ---“Why not?” ---“Because I have nothing to say and for the most part most people on this planet have nothing to say and talk far too much.” ---“Could you give me an example?” He leaned forward in his chair as if to give the impression that he was really interested. ---“At work, people feel as though they have to talk to me every time I fill up their prescription. They say things like, ‘Nice day, isn’t it?’ And ‘How about those Red Sox?’ As if I would get offended if they didn’t try to make some sort of small talk with me. And then there’s the people that get offended because I don’t wish them a great day when they leave. Like I give a darn how their day goes,” Doug started sweating, and his nose turned into a water slide for his glasses. ---“Have you ever had a friend?” ---“Not one that I listened to.” ---“What do you mean?” ---“I’ve had people who I’ve hung out with because we shared musical tastes, but I never really listened to any of them” Doug looked at the ground with his finger pressed to the bridge of his glasses. “I listen to the music, it’s impossible for me not to focus on every beat even if I don’t like the song.” ---“Any women in your life?” ---“Oh yeah, Etta James, Ella Fitzgerald, Nina Simone, Billie Holiday, Aretha Franklin, I’m in love with them all.” ---Dr. Mason’s eyebrow curled. He looked at Doug with sympathy, like he felt sorry for him. “Any real girls?” ---“What do you mean? They are some of the most real girls to ever live.” ---“You may never meet any of them and some of them are dead.” ---“I know their inner most passions because they have painted them on wax.” ---“If you did get to meet any of them would you get mad if they talked while you were listening to music?” ---“They’re the type of girls that only speak when they have something interesting to say.” ---“How do you know that?” ---“Most girls talk just to fill the air with noise, but all the words I hear come out of their mouths are beautiful.” ---“Why did you come see me today?” He said leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. ---“I want to know why I’m like this.” ---“Like what?” ---“Why I’m incapable of communicating with the rest of society.” ---“Do you feel superior to the rest of the world?” ---“No, but I think most of them are dumb.” ---“Why is that?” ---“Because most of them are incapable of sitting in a room together without talking. Only unless the TV’s on, but that just distracts them from the rest of the world”. He looked down, and his glasses slipped off his face and onto the floor. ---“Couldn’t you say that your listening to music all the time distracts you from life?” ---“No, because when I’m not listening to music I’m listening to the world.” ---“What does that sound like to you?” ---“The world has so many beautiful sounds that most people never even notice.” ---“Like what?” ---“Have you ever listened to fluttering maple leaves on a windy September day?” ---“Can’t say I have,” he said as if too good for it. ---“Well, it’s beautiful. I take lots of walks and listen to all the sounds. My feet on mud compared to grass, the breaking of a twig, and crickets. Crickets make some of the best music.” ---“Do you think you have a problem?” ---“No, but I think I’m different and people are starting to notice. God knows what my mother would think if she was still alive”. His mother always thought he was a strange boy. ---“What would your mother think?” ---“She would think it’s weird for a grown man to spend all his time alone. I spend most weekends in my apartment listening to records all day long.” ---“What do you do while you’re listening to the records?” ---“What do you mean?” He said raising his shoulders. “I listen.” ---“You must be doing something else too.” ---“Nope, just sitting, except when I’m cooking or eating. I like cooking only it’s hard for me to break down recipes so it’s only enough food for one.” ---“Sounds lonely.” ---“Not really. To tell you the truth I’m most happy when I’m alone listening to records.” ---“Then why did you come see me today?” ---“Because that’s not normal.” ---“What?” ---“To want to be alone all the time.” ---“Is it normal to you?” ---“Yes, but most people think I’m strange.” ---“Like who?” ---“This kid who works at the pharmacy has a story every Monday about how he met some girl or took some drugs or went to a party. He’s never alone.” Does that make you jealous?” ---“No. Why would I be jealous of him?” ---“Do you play music?” ---“No.” ---“Do you think it would make you happy if you did?” ---“No.” ---“Have you ever tried?” ---“I played a little trumpet in high school, but that didn’t pan out.” ---“Why?” ---“Did you play baseball in high school?” Doug said starring at a bobble head of Pedro Martinez on the front of Dr. Mason’s desk. ---“Yes, but that’s got nothing to with this conversation.” ---“Sure it does. I can tell you’re a Sox fan, why don’t you play ball if you’re such a fan?” ---“I play softball in the summer,” he said with a victorious smile. ---“You’ll never be as good as Pedro.” ---“I know that, but it’s fun for me to play,” Dr. Mason bounced the bobble head on his desk. It bounced as he spoke, “I know I’ll never be professional, but I enjoy playing against other people who know that they will never go pro either.” ---“How can you play when you know there are people so much better than you?” ---“I don’t think about it.” ---“I never want to do something I won’t be good at,” he said pushing his glasses back up his sweaty nose. ---“Then you’ll never do anything, because it’s impossible to be the best. No one’s the best, once someone is the best someone else comes by and is better.” ---“Coltrane and Miles are the best.” ---“That’s opinion, which you’re entitled to.” ---“Fact.” ---Dr. Mason looked at the ceiling intently. “What is it that you want to leave this meeting with?” ---“An explanation for why I’m like this.” ---“I don’t think you want to change. I think you’re looking for approval.” ---“I don’t need anyone’s approval.” ---“What is it about going out into public that you don’t like?” ---“It’s not so much that I don’t like going out in public it’s that I find more enjoyment in staying home.” ---“Let me rephrase that,” Dr. Mason closed his eyes while he rubbed his forehead. “What is it about public situations that you don’t like?” ---“Last night I went to the grocery store after work,” he said pushing the glasses up his damp nose. “I was about 10 paces from the front door when the lady entering the store stopped and held it open for me. I’m perfectly capable of handling the door myself and now I feel obligated to speed up not to be a burden to her.” ---“She probably thought she was doing you a favor.” ---“But that’s my point. She wasn’t. Now I have to speed up my walk almost to a jog so I don’t hold her up.” ---“I’m sure she had the time to spare if she held the door open for you.” ---“No she didn’t. If I had walked at my regular pace to the door I would have been rude or if I didn’t smile and say thank you I would have been rude. I just wanted to get some groceries,” he held the bridge of his glasses as he shook his head. “Then in the check out line the person in front of you or behind you is going to make some lame observation, which you are then supposed to respond to,” the collar of his shirt absorbed the beads of sweat dripping down his neck. “I never know what to say to those people, I just smile and look the other way. Then they think I’m rude.” ---“Are you concerned with people thinking you’re rude?” ---“No, but I don’t want them to think I’m rude.” ---“So you are concerned.” ---“There is a certain way people have decided to act and even though I don’t agree with it. I feel as though I need to fit that mold so people like me.” ---“So you want people to like you?” ---“Not necessarily, I just don’t want them to not like me. It’s more comfortable to be around a person if they like you then if they don’t like you.” ---“But you said yourself you’re never around people.” ---“I am around Timmy, the guy I work with, and granted he’s not a bad guy, but he is an annoying guy, but instead of letting him know that, which would be rude, I listen to what he has to say.” ---“What does he say?” ---“Like I said before he tells me every detail of his weekend on Monday” Doug rubbed his forehead then pushed the glasses back up his nose. “I have never once told him about my weekend.” ---“Why?” ---“I don’t think he cares.” ---“Do you care about his?” ---“No and frankly I don’t care about anything he says. I know the name of every one of his ex-girlfriends and all his friends’ names and all his childhood experiences.” ---“Have you ever told him how you feel?” ---“I don’t want to be rude.” ---“So that’s why you’re here,” Dr. Mason said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice. ---“Here for what?” ---“You’re afraid of people not liking you.” ---“I don’t want to be liked necessarily. I just don’t want to be disliked.” ---“We’re on to something here,” Dr. Mason folded his hands and looked at the clock. “You don’t want to be disliked by anyone, even if you don’t necessary like them. We’ll talk more about this in our next session.” ---“Okay,” Doug stood up with one finger holding his glasses and shook Dr. Mason’s hand with his free hand. “Bye.” ---When Doug arrived home he put on an Ella Fitzgerald forty-five then took off his jacket. In the bedroom he dragged the sheets back from his bed and pulled her out; a cardboard cut out of Linda Carter that he had taken from the pharmacy. When it was time for the contact lens display to come down Doug volunteered to throw it away. No one knew he really put it in the trunk of his car. The two danced through both sides of the record and through two more before they went into bed. ---“I won’t be going back to that doctor,” he said whispering in her ear. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes.

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