Self-Esteem (39 page)

Wynter held up the two printed pages.

“Thank you,” he said, grabbing the pages. He clutched his briefcase and started for the door without looking back.

“Dr. Crawford,” Wynter said.

“Yes?” he said turning to her.

“Are you gonna tell me what this is all about?”

“No. I don’t know what it’s all about.”

“Isn’t that just the way life is sometimes?” she said, nodding. Crawford could swear he heard Jan Hershey once say exactly the same thing. Crawford turned around and walked out.

As soon as the door closed, Wynter picked up the phone.

CHAPTER 19

Dr. Crawford’s Self-Esteem Quiz™ —
Version 3.2

Please note that the results of this male-only Self-Esteem Quiz, while intended to be analytical, are not entirely scientific.
The Quiz consequently does not precisely determine your level of self-esteem. To verify your level of self-esteem with the greatest degree of accuracy, you should seek an evaluation from a qualified
Self
Series
™ therapist in conjunction with further study of Dr. Crawford’s
Self
Series
™ books and recordings.

Please respond to the following statements as honestly as possible.

1. I contemplate what other people think of me, even while alone.

[5] Constantly

[4] Frequently

[3] Occasionally

[2] Rarely

[1] Never

2. I feel uneasy with the choices I make.

[5] Constantly

[4] Frequently

[3] Occasionally

[2] Rarely

[1] Never

3. I consider my friends and work associates to be better than I am in every way, especially in appearance, intelligence, decency, dependability, honesty, and talent.

[5] Constantly

[4] Frequently

[3] Occasionally

[2] Rarely

[1] Never

4. I seem to hate everything I do.

[5] Constantly

[4] Frequently

[3] Occasionally

[2] Rarely

[1] Never

5. I feel like I could snap at any moment and do something really, really bad.

[5] Constantly

[4] Frequently

[3] Occasionally

[2] Rarely

[1] Never

6. My sexual fantasies suggest an underlying resentment and hostility toward myself and others.

[5] Constantly

[4] Frequently

[3] Occasionally

[2] Rarely

[1] Never

7. I can’t stand people.

[5] Constantly

[4] Frequently

[3] Help Me

[2] Rarely

[1] Never

8. I can’t stand myself.

[5] Constantly

[4] Frequently

[3] I’m Tired

[2] Rarely

[1] Never

9. I say “Fuck it.”

[5] Constantly

[4] Frequently

[3] And Alone

[2] Rarely

[1] Never

10. I say “Fuck it all!”

[5] Constantly

[4] Frequently

[3] Lord, Please

[2] Rarely

[1] Never

Evaluation

A score of 10 through 25:
[Self-esteem too high]
You’re probably an annoying asshole who either likes yourself too much or likes life too much or both. Do us all a favor and bring it down a notch or two.

A score of 26 through 40:
[Self-esteem too… who the hell knows?]
You’re one of those lackluster people that can’t make up your mind about anything, so you answer “occasionally” to everything. Why don’t you “occasionally” get a fucking life?

A score of 41 through 50:
[Self-esteem too low… Just kidding.]
You’re a normal human being; get over it. The only decent people in the world are the ones who feel like living pieces of shit most of the time. Congratulations!

Crawford hurried to his car. The burden of constantly evaluating his behavior was a self-inflicted wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled under his heavy breath.
Fuck it all
.

The 120-degree heat of the interior came pouring out in one large wave, hitting him in the face. He climbed in and started the car, putting the windows down slightly, waiting for the air conditioner to make it tolerable. The heat was agonizing, but his mind drifted elsewhere. Each time a new bead of sweat made its way down his forehead, his thoughts went from one of his self-help tenets to the next. This was the same problem he had while trying to write prose: he couldn’t get it out of his head.

Are you getting enough sleep?

Well, try apologizing to your wife.

If you imagine you are successful, say I’m okay!

They work!

“Fuck it.”

Crawford reached into his pocket with trembling hands and grabbed the red nose, putting his finger along the jagged edge. The irregularity of what could have been a tear almost felt good — something uneven, unplanned; something simple and spontaneous, like real life. He put the piece of rubber over his nose, pressing the sticky surface hard to his clammy beak.

Real life.

The car was starting to feel tolerable and Crawford put up the windows.

“A cookie factory,” he said to himself. “An abandoned cookie factory?”

I hate cookies.

As Crawford reached to put the car in gear, standing just across the parking lot not a hundred yards away were Dr. Berry and Dr. Scott.

Collectively known as B.S.

They were standing close to each other next to Scott’s monstrous SUV, looking like children at a playground trading secrets. Crawford looked at their curled up noses, their smirking grins, Scott’s confident, shrugging shoulders. Y
es, they’re probably behind all of this. Probably payback for my success.
Crawford slipped the car into gear and thought he might just run both of them over.
Yeah, maybe that will remedy this whole situation
, he thought.
I’ll tell the police the whole story. Blame it on them. I’ll say I was crazed with anger and couldn’t help myself. They were harassing me
.

Indulge yourself on occasion!

“Shut the fuck up!” he shouted.

The two men turned their heads as if on cue, staring straight at Crawford as if they’d heard him yell.
But they couldn’t have.
Berry put his flattened fingers to his forehead to block the sun.

“That’s just like them. Acting like they’ve been distracted from something important. Yeah, some really important bullshit. Fuckers!”

As impulsively as slamming a shot of whiskey, Crawford stomped on the gas and the car screeched in reverse, snapping his head into the steering wheel as if the back of his neck had been abruptly slapped. Then just as abruptly, his head slammed back against the headrest.

“Son of a bitch.” The red rubber nose was stuck to the steering wheel. Crawford quickly put the rubber nose back on then looked behind him to discover he had backed up into the side of a parked car. A black car. A black BMW with a new temporary tag in the window. Berry’s new BMW.

Crawford pounded the gearshift into drive and slowly pulled the car forward, which came with sounds of broken plastic crunching and metal bending. Crawford stopped and looked. He had put a large dent on the driver’s side, from the back door to the rear bumper.

Crawford looked straight ahead and could see that Berry was curling up his prickly nose with disbelief. Scott had stopped shrugging and was now shaking his head. Berry appeared to take an acquiescent deep breath, and the two men started toward the collision.

They both looked taken aback,
but are they?

Crawford admired himself in the mirror, straightening the rubber nose on his face. After putting the car back in reverse, he put the window down on the driver’s side and stuck his head out.

“Crawford?” Berry said. “What are you doing? What the hell is on your…”

“Hello, gentlemen,” he called out with a smile. “Didn’t think I’d run into you.” Crawford put his head back inside and stomped on the gas again, this time ramming into the previously undamaged front quarter.

Berry put his hands to his face as his approach was halted by his shock.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Berry yelled.

The red rubber nose slipped a bit and Crawford straightened it a second time. Crawford leaned over and opened the glove compartment. He pulled out his old friend, Uncle Jerry’s Ruger. It didn’t feel cold any longer. He moved the gun gently to the cleft between the seat and his right thigh. His grip tightened.

Don’t do it
.

Do what?

I don’t know. Kill anyone.

You’re not going to kill anyone.

“You’re going to pay for that, Crawford!” Berry screamed.

Crawford froze, giving Berry a blank stare. The stare was not deliberate; it just conveyed his feelings.

Let your feelings loose!

I
am
letting my feelings loose.

I have no feelings.

In the absence of fear, I have no feelings.

“What the fuck is on your nose?” Scott was now standing a few steps behind Berry.

“Yeah. What the hell is that?” Berry demanded.

Again, without calculation, Crawford swung the gun up and out the window, putting it within inches of Berry’s pointy snout.

“You know what the fuck it is. It’s a rubber nose. A clown nose! Okay!” Crawford’s hand was shaking, as was Berry’s entire body.

“Okay, Jim. Jeez.” Berry took a step back, his hands now in the air. He could barely speak. “Sure, a clown nose. Of course.”

“Put your goddam hands down!”

Almost tumbling into the pavement behind him, Scott turned around and began running toward the psychology building.

“Scott!” Crawford turned the barrel of the gun skyward and fired a shot. The sound echoed everywhere.

Scott stopped and with his back still facing Crawford, put his hands up.

“Put your goddam hands
down
, goddam it!” Crawford looked again at Berry who was now slowly putting his hands to his waist. Crawford brought the gun back into the car and sat it on his lap. He stared at it without expression. “Jay?”

Berry could hardly move, even his lips. “Yes, Jim.”

“I didn’t know it was loaded.”

He took a deep breath. “Just relax, Jim.”

Crawford looked in Scott’s direction. He was still frozen. “Hey, Albert?” he said raising his voice.

“Yeah, Jim.” Scott’s face was now covered in tears, his hands on his head.

“I didn’t know it was loaded. Please put your hands down.”

“Okay, Jim. Can I go now?” His hands didn’t move.

Berry took a deep breath and nodded like a prudent old father. “Jim, why don’t you take off the nose and give me the gun?”

“Huh?” Crawford looked past Berry; he looked past Scott, into the void of bright colors that separated everything from everything. Crawford felt
something
— something
very strong
— something
besides fear
or
drunkenness
. He felt a
natural
drunkenness, a courage even stronger than the liquid kind. It was like that moment he had finally reached for the toy radio and clocked the bully all those years ago. It was a moment to seize. It was self-esteem, real self-esteem.

“Why don’t you take off the nose, Jim?” Berry said like a psychologist calming an irate patient.

Crawford slowly lifted the gun toward Berry. “Why don’t I take the nose off? Because I don’t want to take the nose off.” Crawford opened the door and got out of the car quickly. He could see Scott starting to blubber.

“Hey, take it easy, buddy,” Berry said, again putting his hands up as if he were being robbed.

“Put your goddam hands down and get in the car!”

“What?”

“You too, Albert!” Crawford said, pointing the gun over Berry’s shoulder.

“Jay’s causing all these problems,” Dr. Scott whimpered, pointing at his colleague.

Berry clinched his teeth. “You’re such a goddam pussy,” he said.

“Shut up! Both of you! Get in the car. In the backseat.”

“Really, Jim…” Berry said.

“Now, Albert. In the car.”

Crawford reached behind him and opened the back door without turning his back. “Get in, Jay. Albert, you too!”

Dr. Berry took a deep breath and ducked into the backseat.

Dr. Scott started to walk slowly toward the car. “I think this might be something between you and Jay, Jim.”

“Please. Call me
Doctor
Crawford,” he said, straightening the rubber nose.

Scott started to snivel some more. “Are you going to kill us?”

“I haven’t written that part yet.”

Berry said, “What the hell does that mean?” sticking his head out of the open door.

Crawford put his free hand on Berry’s forehead and shoved him back in. He motioned Scott with the Ruger. “Come on. Hurry up.”

“Okay, okay.” Scott’s reddened eyes were now shedding tears. “Whatever Jay did, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Sure,” Crawford said, shoving him into the car next to Berry.

Crawford slammed the door then climbed into the driver’s seat. “Not a move. I’m warning you,” he said into the rearview mirror.

“Where are you taking us?” Berry said.

“You don’t know? I think maybe you do.”

Berry’s pointy nose curled again. “What the hell is this all about, Crawford? You fuck up my car, now you’re taking us by gunpoint someplace? Have you lost your goddam mind?”

Scott put his hand on Berry’s knee, “You asked that already. Maybe you should take it easy, Jay.”

Crawford put the car into drive. “Shut up! The both of you.” Then, with a sly cackle, he put the car back into reverse. “To answer your question, Dr. Berry, yes, I once lost my mind. But now I’ve found it.”

Crawford stomped the gas and slammed the car once more into Berry’s BMW.

Crawford laughed. “Sorry Jay, it just feels so good.” He looked ahead and saw that there was a small crowd of students staring at him. Three girls and two boys. Had they seen the entire incident? Had they seen him coerce the men into the car with a gun? Would they call the cops? The students started laughing.
Why the hell are they laughing?
Crawford started waving the pistol around. He made crazy faces, widening his eyes and mouth. They laughed even more. “Goddam kids these days. They don’t take anything seriously, do they?” he said driving out of the parking lot and through the campus gates.