Fear Of Flying

This was the dazzlingly self-confident creature who began treatment with Dr. Happe in Heidelberg. Gradually I learned how to sit still at my desk long enough to work. Gradually I learned how to send off manuscripts and write letters. I felt like a stroke victim learning penmanship all over again, and Dr. Happe was my guide. He was mild and patient and fu

I hadn’t seen him for two and a half years, but I had sent him my first book of poems and he had written me about it.

“Zo,” he said, like the comic-book German he wasn’t, “I see you no longer have trouble writing letters…”

“No, but I certainly have lots of other trouble…” and I spilled out my whole confused story of what had happened since we arrived in Vie

“You’re not a secretary; you’re a poet. What makes you think your life is going to be uncomplicated? What makes you think you can avoid all conflict? What makes you think you can avoid pain? Or passion? There’s something to be said for passion. Can’t you ever allow yourself and forgive yourself?”

“Apparently not. The trouble is I’m really a puritan at heart. All pornographers are puritans.”

“You are certainly not a pornographer,” he said.

“No, but it sounded good. I liked those two p’s. The alliteration.”

Dr. Happe smiled. Did he know the word “alliteration,” I wondered? I remembered how I always used to ask him if he understood my English. Perhaps for two and a half years he’d understood nothing.

“You are a puritan,” he said, “and of the worst sort. You do what you like but you feel so guilty that you don’t enjoy it. What, actually, is the point?” During his London exile, Happe had picked up some Englishisms. I remembered that he loved the word “actually.”

“That’s what I want to know,” I said.

“But the worst thing is how you always insist on normalizing your life. Even if you’re analyzed, your life may not be simple. Why do you expect it to be? Maybe this man is part of it. But why do you have to throw everything away before you give yourself time to decide? Can’t you wait and see what happens later?”

“I could wait if I were cautious-but I’m afraid I always have trouble being cautious.”

“Except with writing letters,” he said. “There you were very cautious.”

“Not anymore,” I said.

Then the meetings began letting out and we got up, shook hands, and said goodbye. I was left to sort out my dilemma by myself. No good Daddy to rescue me this time.

Be

In the morning, we haggardly made our way to the Congress, and listened to the closing remarks on aggression by A

After the meeting, while Be

“Come with me,” he said, “we’ll have a great time-an odyssey.”

“You tempt me, but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Let’s not go into it again-please.”

“I’ll be around after lunch, ducks, if you change your mind. I have to speak to some people now and then get back to the pension and pack. I’ll look for you after lunch at about two. If you’re not there, I’ll wait an hour or so. Try to make up your mind, love. Don’t be scared. Be

Now it was up to me. He’d wait. I had three and a half hours to decide my fate. And his. And Be

I wish I could say that I did it charmingly or insouciantly or even bitchily. Sheer bitchiness can be a sort of style. It can have élan in its own right. But I’m a failure even as a bitch. I sniveled. I groveled. I deliberated. I analyzed. I was a bore even to myself.

I agonized over lunch in the Volksgarten with Be

It was all so dismal. Then I thought of Adrian’s smile and the possibility of never seeing him again and the su

My fear was that Adrian had already left without me. I ran harder, getting lost in back streets, going around in circles, dodging traffic. I had been in such a daze during all the time in Vie

“Here I am!” I said, gasping. “I was afraid you’d leave without me.”

“Would I do a thing like that, love?”

(He would! He would!)

“We’ll have a lovely time,” he said.

We drove directly to the hotel without getting lost for once. Upstairs, I threw my clothes into my bag (the sequined dress from the ball, the damp swimsuits, shorts, nightgowns, raincoat, jersey dresses for traveling-everything creased and jumbled and thrown together). Then I sat down to write a note to Be