April 11, 2013

I had another session with Dr. Carrion today. From my understanding, we are supposed to be talking about activities and exercises that I can do and take part in during my free time, so I could be able to get over the passing of my mother more smoothly. Dr. Carrion still refuses to move on from the whole Plural Heights fiasco. I told her I was feeling fine, but maybe she didn’t believe it? She said that making me be a part of such an immense gathering is a mistake on her part, but she would still like me to be a part of a vibrant community where I can speak with individuals who are going through the same headspace I am in. I agree with her. I think I would really appreciate that kind of gathering, but not on the scale of Plural Heights yet.

I went to her office with all those pieces of information in mind. However, what welcomed me instead when I arrived is a familiar face.

I locked eyes with Dr. Carrion. I saw a woman in the same room. This stranger is sitting leisurely on the same couch where Dr. Carrion would often have me lay down. I knew this stranger. I’ve seen her before. That familiar woman stood up right away when I entered the room. She slowly approached me with her hands stretched towards my direction when our gazes met. As the lady finally entered my immediate vicinity, I immediately whiffed the pleasant aroma of her perfume. It smelled like cucumber and grass. Very earthy. One that reminded me of better times that never once existed. Her warm smile is also a stark contrast from her confident stature, which empowers her delicate body. Somehow, I feel like she’s towering over me, even though I am much taller than her.

After a few seconds of her looking straight into the windows of my soul with glistening emerald eyes, she called out my name with a warm smile. Her voice reminded me of a sunny spring morning. That beautiful smile of hers is the very icon of magnificence itself.

It seemed like she also recognized me. I knew this because she called out my name. ‘Justin,’ she said. ‘How are you, Justin?’

Dr. Carrion noticed this and asked where we knew each other and if it had anything to do with Plural Heights. The familiar, black-haired lady said no and told my psychiatrist that we first met in a Lawson convenience store where she frequently buys her snacks in. We then formally introduced each other again.

That was when I finally remembered everything. Her long, black hair; her high cheekbones; her smooth, pale skin. She’s Veronica. One of the regular customers I met last Friday during my first ever shift as a part-timer. We shook hands again, and Veronica told me to sit beside her on Dr. Carrion’s soft couch.

Veronica didn’t beat around the bush. She directed the conversation right away as to why she was here. Plural Heights. Particularly the awfulness of what I had gone through. I asked her how she knew about what happened to me in that stadium. She replied by saying that she heard about my visit from a complaint that Dr. Carrion gave her. Veronica told me she pleaded with Dr. Carrion to allow her to have a conversation with me. This went on for days until my psychiatrist finally agreed.

Without my consent.

I ignored that part mostly because Veronica seems like a very upstanding individual. She’s very soft-spoken, she seems aloof based on her tone, and she’s well-intentioned. That’s why I chose not to protest the suddenness of her visit.

After what seemed like an eternity of her informing me how thankful she is that I gave Plural Heights a chance, she finally told me about her affiliation to the megachurch called Plural Heights. To answer this, Veronica gave me a pamphlet. Not a business card. A pamphlet. The document in question had her face on it. It shows that she’s some kind of hotshot in Plural Heights. It even shows that she had been traveling state-wide to visit every Plural Heights branch daily. It must have been a real bummer for her to waste her time to visit me. I admire her for her cause. Too bad I lost that pamphlet, so I can’t even put it in my journal anymore. 

I read that pamphlet, and it shows there that she’s regarded in the Plural Heights community as the “Mother.” I asked her about this, and Veronica immediately chuckled in response. Her lovely voice rang through my ear like the pleasant hum of a skylark flying through the stillness of this beautiful moment we’re sharing. Veronica then explained that it just happened when some megachurch members began to regard her as their mother figure. Before she knew it, everyone in Plural Heights was already calling her ‘Mother.’ It took a while, according to her, but when she saw how happy the members were when they’re calling her that way, Veronica said that she had no choice but to embrace that nickname.

I gotta say, I can’t blame the Plural Heights members. Her smile radiated a motherly sentiment while her eyes reflected a sense of familiarity, even though we only met each other twice. For some reason, I feel like I know this woman. I know her very well. Her fashion also supports my thoughts. She’s wearing a soft and loose green dress that has a small Hello Kitty pocket. It suited her very well. Her aura radiated a sort of conservative demureness with authoritative care. How else could I describe this other than “motherly”?

As my thoughts slowly drifted away into dreamland, the feeling of her warm touch on my arm dragged me back to reality. It seemed like I have been dozing off too much. Veronica then took another pamphlet from her brown handbag. She’s moving graciously like an aristocrat in a Victorian castle, but for some reason, I could sense a twinge of urgency in her body language. This thought I had is further supported by what Veronica said next. Apparently, she’s inviting me to be a part of a gathering called “Heal; Soul,” a sister organization of Plural Heights. She said this right away, not even addressing the experience I had with the megachurch anymore and how this entire conversation is a clear breach of my privacy. According to Veronica, Heal; Soul is a small forum that only had about twelve members ever since its conception in December last year. 

I could then see tears welling up in her eyes as she told me how bad she felt for what I had suffered during my visit to Plural Heights. She furthered this sentiment by saying that she couldn’t imagine how many people had the same horrible experience that I did. Veronica very graciously told me that what happened to me is an eye-opener, and she’s very proud to say that I have helped her megachurch a lot in being a better environment that could foster a supportive place for people like me who had an ailing soul. She thanked me a lot for giving her megachurch a chance, but she also added that it would pain her if this is the last. With the pamphlet in her hands, Veronica almost begged me to give Plural Heights another chance. She said that Plural Heights would do their best to aid me. 

I liked what she said after that.

“No one deserves to heal in such a harsh world. Allow us to show you that Plural Heights is a soft petal, not a prickling torn.”

Veronica then stood up again before shaking my hands with a firmer grip as she placed the pamphlet on my lap. Veronica then thanked me again before she left Dr. Carrion’s office. Then she’s gone. As swiftly as she came. I looked at the pamphlet she gave me. Heal; Soul.

Why not?

I had a few more conversations with Dr. Carrion, but I already forgot about it. My consciousness is just not touching the earth anymore when Veronica left. I think my psychiatrist apologized for the suddenness of this Veronica situation, but I seriously didn’t mind it anymore. I just had one thing in mind.

Heal; Soul.

Why not, indeed?

I told Dr. Carrion that I would like to give Heal; Soul a chance. She looked at me with delight after hearing this and thanked me further for my understanding. We then went on with our usual Q&A format. Then I went home.

Heal; Soul.

It was something.