COGNITIVE DISSONANCE

From the R.M. Dolin novel, “The Dangling Conversation.”

Chapter 10: Cognitive Dissonance

ISABELLE: “It’s beyond causal curiosity, we sit on this quiet bench in this amazing park night after night talking about anything and everything and you never mention her, not even in passing. I find it interestingly odd that you can meet this Nadia woman, have such a whirlwind relationship, be convinced she’s the love of your life, your one true soulmate you’ll never stop pining over, and in the midst of all that, you up and marry someone else. Not only is there one helluva story buried pretty damn deep, but once your veil’s been lifted, I’m going to know a lot more about you and how you came to be sitting on this bench.

“Why is it you don’t talk about her? Is it out of loyalty to Nadia, is it because you’re embarrassed about the things you did and decisions you made? That’s it isn’t it? I mean so what, you think you’re the only one who’s made bad or stupid decisions, let me tell you bub, you may have been around the block a few more times than me, but I own the stinking sidewalks you stroll along so laissez-faire, so I think we can dispense with the whole damn shameful pride thing. I propose an exchange, a tit-for-tat if you will; or what we kids like to call a good old fashion game of, “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” You start, ask whatever you want about my life since we already know what I’m gonna probe about yours. But wait, first we need to decide on rules; there has to be rules, don’t you think, otherwise this is gonna devolve into a wild west free for all. I personally vote for free for all, because I think you’re way more reluctant to show me yours than I am to show you mine and I find that provocatively amusing.

“It’s not that having you reveal secrets is fun and fascinating, even though it is, what rings my bell is turning the tables on you for once. It seems like every night we sit here I bare my soul for your personal entertainment, and so it is, at the very least, appropriate for you to spend some time in the witness chair. So, to begin our deposition, tell me her name, how you met, and what the hell you’re thinking when you ask her to marry you knowing Nadia’s ‘the one’.”

KYLE: “You’re beyond brutal, even more than that, you’re downright vicious, somewhat sadistic. What gives you the right to presume to ask me questions you know by your own admission I don’t want to answer? And even if I am inclined to talk about it, I’m uncertain I can tell the story in a way that can in any way make sense; a lot of years and a bunch of miles later I’m still trying to make sense of what happened. Plus, for the record, you’ve pulled plenty of crap from me that I never intended to share; I don’t know how much of a person’s soul you think you’re entitled to conquer, but for the record, no one’s seen more of my snakes than you.

“I suppose though, in for a penny in for a pound, as they say across the pond. So, as you already know, I move to Washington after my first marriage to take a job at State and while there, I attend a conference in Paris to present my paper on Uncertainty as part of my research into Truth and Trust; specifically, on how it applies to the geopolitics of rare earth mineral development. It’s there on the Metro on my way to the conference, I meet Nadia and we spend an amazing day just walking the cobblestone streets, sitting at sidewalk cafés, and talking. I want to know her more but leave thinking I’ll never see her again. Then her dissertation focus changes and she’s sent to Washington to study the influence funding has on academic research outcomes and how that taints legislation and corrupts industries, particularly within the medical and pharmaceutical sectors. Pretty heavy-duty stuff for a soft-spoken introvert but Nadia’s fearless when it comes to her research.

“Before long our relationship evolves past profound and we’re moving in together and living a blissful life. But that lasts less than a year before that fateful morning when I awaken to find her gone without explanation. For months I desperately try contacting her but get no response; then, a year later, she sends a cold abstract note telling me she no longer loves me and that she’s not only married but has a kid. Of course, I’m devastated and not knowing the what’s and whys only fuels my angst; to be completely honest, I’m beyond devastated, I’m broken and lost, like my soul’s been sent to solitary confinement without so much as a morsel of light or warmth. I stay in this self-imposed purgatory way longer than warranted; one has to process at their own pace and I’m in no hurry to push through mine.

“When spring rolls around and the cherry blossoms bloom the guys on my softball team shame me into trying my luck at this new technology called ‘on-line dating’. That’s where I meet Olivia. I’m really only there because the boys double dog dare me, not thinking at all about relationships, commitments, or anything long term; certainly not about ever getting remarried. Olivia’s so removed from the bureaucratic professional my profile should attract I still don’t know why she messages me; but there she is, this amazing woman who’s more than any man has the right to hope for. She’s vibrant, incredibly beautiful; smart as ever, which imparts her with a wisdom I find mesmerizing. She has a flamboyant charm that easily draws me out of my shell and into the open air of vulnerability, she shows my soul it’s possible to laugh and reunite with joy. We date less than a year before getting married. It’s a simple wedding, which is all she wants; that’s her charm, she’s not one for ostentatious displays. It’s that way in all aspects of her life, from the car she drives, the clothes she wears, and the things she buys for our home, always simple and yet with a sophisticated elegance.

“She’s a gifted artist but doesn’t trust her talents; she’s content to pursue her art in private while I do my nerdy nine-to-five at State. She likes to travel, and we do whenever life allows but never to France; it isn’t that I’m carrying a torch for Nadia, it’s more that I need the past I fought so hard to forget to remain forgotten. I never mention that part of my life to Olivia, not only would it be unfair, it doesn’t serve a purpose and I don’t want to hurt her. I love Olivia with all my heart, a full and earnest love with no room for memories of a past that less and less haunts me. My oldest son is born two years into the marriage, with my daughter follows a year later, and my second son a year after that.

“We’re a picture-perfect family living the suburban dream; work is good, summers spent at my New Mexico cabin, and we travel often; life’s idyllic in almost every way but it never really is, is it. It’s just the grandest lie we tell ourselves; the one we choose not to see. After our third child, a darkness settles over Olivia, subtle at first in ways you don’t really notice and easily dismiss. That’s the thing about darknesses, it creeps in so slow you’re unaware; it’s like being outside as evening transitions to night, your eyes slowly adjust so you don’t really notice the incremental loss of light until suddenly it’s gone.

“That’s how it is with Olivia, first she just seems a little quite; I don’t even notice and when I finally do, she assures me things are okay. But then her art slows down, not in a dramatic all at once kind of way, but slowly over time she loses interest in first one project, then another; usually this means she’s transitioning into some new medium that catches her excitement, but this time she’s putting down one pursuit but not replacing it with another. That’s when I accept something’s wrong. I talk to her about it, but she’s in denial, at least to me; I can’t say if she’s in denial to herself but think she is. She then starts withdrawing, it begins by staying up to three or four in the morning and sleeping past noon. I know something has to be done and after weeks of cajoling, convince her to come with me to see a shrink; by the end of the first session the doctor diagnoses her with depression and prescribes medications to help her brain re-balance, only Olivia refuses to take her prescriptions.

“Her argument is that she’s sad not crazy, so doesn’t need crazy pills. I tell her the medication’s meant to help her heal; that they’re not crazy pills, but rather stuff that’ll help her get better; that the mind’s just a muscle same as any other that can over time get damaged for all kinds of reasons and just needs help to heal. She’s not buying any of it though, she equates depression with sadness and they’re not the same; she’ll say shit like, “I just need to find ways to be happy.” I try to accommodate, we travel more, spend time away from the kids, go to art events, and go out to nice restaurants when possible. None of that helps because all we’re doing is treating the symptom, not the cause. Sometimes, people find themselves locked in a life that wears on their souls so deeply they end up with this dark cloud of doom constantly hovering over them preventing any kind of light into their life with no hope of finding a rainbow.”

ISABELLE: “I too have done the dark dance one does with the devil following my divorce; thrashing around the cesspool of my life unable to escape no matter how hard I try, then one day, it all blows up in unintended ways. Keep in mind when I tell you what happens, it’s not me at my finest. It did feel right at the time though, and certainly in that moment, something dramatic needed to be done. It’s almost two years post-divorce and I’m still on the run with my Ex in pursuit. He’s just found me; it’s the second time since the divorce was final and just when I’m starting to believe I’m finally free from him. I know it’s stupid to take a stand, and when you hear my story, you’re going to say, “Isabelle, what the hell were you thinking!” But as you’ll soon see, I have to do something, I can’t keep running and living in fear, I’ve dug a hole so dark and deep there’s nothing to do but keep on digging, hoping to find light at the bottom, only there’s never ever rainbows in the abyss.

“What I need is a plan to put an end to his torment once and for all. Now that he’s found me, I’m not thinking clearly, there’s so much to do and so little time. I’m moving as quickly as possible in a near panic state trying to avoid detection and yet need to maximize this moment in a way he’ll never screw with me again. To fully appreciate the genius of my plan, I need to set the stage. First, I’ll introduce you to my cast of co-conspirators, Brad and Mandy, Brad’s my neighbor upstairs and Mandy’s a coworker. There’s nothing going on with Brad other than helping each other with deliveries or errands from time to time, and Mandy’s more or less in the same boat as me with her Ex, only her situation’s more dangerous but less dramatic. Oh, and I can’t forget the star of our drama, Murray, Brad’s two-year-old Labrador. He’s a great dog but has way too much energy, although he never does anything as crazy as your dog climbing up on the roof. He’s such a hero in my story I felt obligated to name my puppy after him. Brad’s Murray sometimes goes to doggy daycare whenever Brad has to go into work or on travel; sometimes Brad asks me to either pick Murray up if he’s running late or drop him off if he has other commitments. Of course I don’t mind, I love hanging out with Murray as much as I like going to his daycare to play with all the other dogs.

“When I learn my Ex has found me, I tell Mandy and she knows a guy who has connections with a guy who claims to be a gangster, who for surprisingly not much money is willing to rough-up my Ex and convince him things are only going to get worse if bothers me again. Even though I don’t much like my Ex, I can’t bring myself to be responsible for him getting beat-up, so I’m reluctant to pull that trigger as tempting as it seems. It would be the fast and easy solution, but I just can’t reconcile what doing that would say about me and the person I’ve become. I keep trying to rationalize things by telling myself that it’s not so much a reflection on me as it is evidence of the person my Ex has driven me to be, a person not really me. Mandy almost convinces me it’s a measured and justified response, but then I start worrying that the cops will likely believe my Ex after he accuses me of being behind his beating. Cops do little to protect women in these situations and if they force me to take a lie detector test, I’ll fail and end up in prison for doing something he drove me to do, which would mean the bastard wins, and I can’t allow that to happen. So, I tell Mandy no and get to work on a better plan; one that doesn’t end with me in jail and him taking victory laps.

“I know him enough to know whatever solution I come up with has to be permanent, anything short only emboldens him and doesn’t end well for me. I’m tired of running and at my wit’s end so, just about anything will do regardless of the risk, except of course the risk of prison. My door camera’s what tips me off, it catches him snooping around the previous two days. He comes by in the afternoon and looks in the apartment window, rifles through my mail, hangs around a few minutes then leaves. He knows there’s a camera, you can’t really miss it, which means he’s doing what he does on purpose. It’s one of his favorite ways to intimidate me; he hides his face to ensure I can’t just give a copy of the video to the police as evidence he’s violating his restraining order but he knows I know it’s him even if I can’t prove it, that’s how the demented bastard works.

“He’ll be back tomorrow because he hasn’t yet left his mark; each time he wants me to know he’s watching; he takes ruby red lipstick and draws a small heart on my door; it’s a sweet thing turned evil. Back when we were still in love and he’d leave before me in the morning, he’d draw a heart on my bathroom mirror with an ‘X’ and ‘O’ in the middle. It was sweet then but terrifying now. He’ll keep coming to my door every afternoon until he leaves his heart, that’s his weakness, it’s the vital element allowing my plan to work, to finally be free from him.”

KYLE: “Einstein said the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results. Means your Ex is insane because in his demented mind, I’m sure he’s convinced he’s winning you back each time he leaves his little lipstick heart. I’m sure if you press him, he’ll say his stalking isn’t about rage or revenge, it’s about winning you back and there’s just no way to convince him he won’t in the end.”

ISABELLE: “This is why I tell Mandy about my plan because she plays a pivotal role. I leave Brad in the dark even though he plays an even bigger part, his surprise at the end is key to perfecting the desired outcome. I’m counting on Brad to react the same way he did when some homeless creep tries taking Murray after a swim in the river; let’s just say Brad’s not one to trifle with when he’s in protection mode. Even though my plan’s smoothly coming together I start having second thoughts; on the one hand, it’s so perfect it has to work but at the same time, is so simple it can’t possibly succeed. Something must be missing, some small detail I’ve overlooked. Yet no matter I much I rerun the scenario to find my fatal flaws there aren’t any, so really, how can I not proceed with at least a small sense of confidence my nightmare of running is about to end.

“The night before my rendezvous with destiny, I convince Brad to let me drop Murray off at daycare in the morning, Brad’s not going anywhere, but he’s been complaining lately about Murray interrupting work to play or potty, or even worse, barking while he’s in the middle of a video conference. Like I said, Murray’s high maintenance so, I suggest what Brad needs is an uninterrupted day to focus on work. We agree I’ll pick Murray up on my way to work and drop him off at doggy daycare, Brad will collect Murray after work and the three of us will meet at the “River-Walk,” entrance at six. Murray loves the River-Walk because there’s a bend in the river near the entrance where dogs are allowed to swim and that dog lives to swim.

“To kick off, “Operation Freedom,” I drop Murray off at doggy daycare per the plan. Murray’s in fine form that morning, between licking the back of my neck as I drive and sticking his head out the passenger window to throttle his jowls with commuter air, he’s in constant motion. After dropping him off I go into work until noon when I quickly return home to tape a message to my door that reads;

“Darling Brad, please pick Murray up at daycare before meeting me at the entrance to River-Walk at six. Thanks, see you then, Isabelle. PS: Murray’s with the other two-year-olds today and the daycare director is expecting you to pick him up so there shouldn’t be any issues, see you at six.”

“My door camera confirms my Ex has read the note. The interesting back story is that it’s been about two years and nine months since the last time he and I had sex which could, in theory, make Murray his potential son; pretty brilliant, huh? Equally significant is after the first time my Ex finds me and there’s a scene; my lawyer gets a restraining order with hefty penalties for any violation. Once he sees the note though, he’ll be consumed with a need to confront me and there simply won’t be any way he can stop himself from coming to River-Walk to create a scene, one I hope finally ends my having to hide.

“Mandy’s my videographer, she’ll be casually staged at the entrance pretending to be a tourist taking pictures, but her real job is capturing my Ex accosting me in public. As an added measure, I hope my Ex wears the same cloths at the River-Walk that he does at my apartment when picking up my note, that way I have proof he was also there; both of which are a complete violation of his restraining order that I can then use to blackmail him into leaving me alone. If my Ex and Brad get into a verbal altercation, that’s just bonus video. It won’t come to blows, my Ex can be threatening to weaker victims but he won’t have the stones to mess with Brad, especially with Murray in the mix. The only real glitch in my perfectly conceived plan is the after-action briefing where I have to explain things to Brad, which I’m fairly certain will take more than one glass of wine and a promise of unlimited doggy duties. Then there’ll be making sure he understands the whole “Darling Brad” part of my note was just a ruse, but other than that, he and I should be okay.”

KYLE: “Your well-developed plan reminds me of something President Eisenhower once said when asked about the value of planning for his D-day invasion, it’s something along the line of, “In preparing for battle I always found plans are useless but planning indispensable.” In other words, no matter how well you plan, once things get rolling, they take on a life of their own; I get a feeling, the wheels are about to come off your bus.”

ISABELLE: “Slow down there cowboy, this is my story. We get to the six o’clock portion of my plan with flawless execution. My Ex came to my apartment as planned, he reads the note and tears it off the door before storming off in a fit of rage. After that though, as you properly predicted, things go completely off the rails. First, Mandy’s late and when she does arrive her phone’s nearly dead, so I give her mine, but it keeps locking up and needing me to unlock it. Then Brad arrives right at six, but immediately Murray takes off after a tennis ball another dog owner threw and Brad’s all distracted chasing Murray around the grassy area trying to get the ball back. In the middle of this chaos my Ex shows up, the only one apparently staying on script. I’d seen him rage before but he’s on a completely new spectrum. He rushes up to me without any regard for the consequences of his restraining order and immediately demands to know where his son’s at and who the hell this Brad bastard is. He creates such a scene that suddenly there’s a dozen people queuing up cell phones to capture our encounter. I don’t know how much you’re on social media but you maybe saw my video without actually knowing it was me; it sorta went viral for a while.

“It’s right around then Brad finally gets control of Murray, and they walk up unaware my Ex and I are in the middle of a huge scene. Brad’s got this patented friendly smile and he extends his hand while saying to my Ex, “Hi I’m Brad.” Without warning or hesitation, my Ex punches poor Brad in face so hard it staggers him backward causing him to fall over Murray, which of course causes Murray to launch his seventy-pound body at my Ex knocking him to ground. Unfinished, Murray hops on my Ex’s chest growling ferociously in his face, daring him to make a move. I’m frantically pulling Murray off my Ex before he does any damage and of course screaming over and over, “Murray! Stop!” About the time I get Murray dragged off to the side, Brad’s back up and violently jerking my Ex off the ground by his shirt collar shouting, “I don’t know what the hell all this is about, but you’d better explain yourself pretty damn quick.” I don’t think Brad actually intends to hit my Ex but his free arm’s cocked and his hand’s tightly clenched, and that’s when the Keystone cops arrive.”

“Seems whenever you really need a cop they’re nowhere to be found and as soon as my best laid plan goes to shit, there they are, swooping in from all directions convinced someone needs to either be tased, shot, or arrested, and on first glance, that someone appears to be Brad. This is all about to end badly, but thank God, Brad obeys the policeman’s order and releases my Ex mere moments before being tased. As the cops cuff poor innocent Brad while comforting my Ex, the bastard’s looking at me with a huge grin knowing he’s just won. But eventually the wheels in his dense head spin enough for him to realize he’s been played, “Murray’s a freaking dog!” he shouts. I smile back with a taunting grin knowing it’s me who’s won. “Don’t much matter,” he says with that shit eaten grin I wish Brad had knocked into next Tuesday, “they’ll put him down for attacking me.”

“As you might imagine that gets Brad all spun up again and even though he’s cuffed, he has to be restrained by two officers. While all this is going on, Murray’s decided it’s time for a swim so he’s down at the river splashing around and playing with a little girl willing to toss sticks in the water. Before long the two of them are rolling around on the grass while the little girl laughs and rubs Murray’s belly. This causes one of the officers to shout, “whoever owns that damn dog, get em on a leash until we sort all this out.”

“Things are looking mighty bleak for me, Murray, and Brad, but luckily Mandy and a dozen or so onlookers save the day by showing the officers videos they’ve taken and it’s enough to exonerate Brad and Murray; mostly because Murray didn’t actually bite my Ex and Brad didn’t actually hit him. The cops are understandably far less generous with my Ex; they arrest him for assault and for violating his restraining order. From what I read in the papers he’s able to post bail but beyond that I don’t know what happens. He has, however, left me alone since. I move here shortly after, so I can’t say I’m completely in the clear, but I at least like to believe I’m done running. After explaining things to Brad, he says he forgives me but it’s never the same between us. There’s always this weird awkwardness, it’s a huge reason I move. And now you know how I wound up sitting on this park bench with a puppy named Murray and an apartment full of unpacked boxes.”

Kyle finishes his Olivia story in Chapter 11, Last Look at Love