Mr Fitzmorris

[OnHarry]

Albert Fitzmorris was known to thousands of former senior high school students as Fitz, or Mr Fitzmorris, depending on their familiarity with him. He had just completed thirty years of teaching and in his middle fifties had been looking forward to retirement with his wife Edie.

Edie was also a teacher of thirty years service but for reasons unknown to Albert she had announced a month into their retirement that she wanted a divorce and that she was leaving him. The terms she set out were fair and amicable, the house to be sold and the proceeds split, the furniture also to be split with family pieces going to their respective donors.

It was all very civilized and yet to Albert like a kick in the groin. He had no idea that his wife wanted to leave, or why until a week after they parted he found out from her she was living with a man in his early sixties called Albert Stark, apparently Edie had a thing for men named Albert.

Sex, to Albert’s knowledge, had not been an issue as they had had regular, and to his mind enjoyable sessions pretty much weekly several times in some cases, that is when they were not both mentally exhausted from finals and such. That pressure was now gone with their retirement but so was Edie.

Finances were not a problem as Albert and Edie had raised two children, both of whom had long since left home for their own careers, and Albert had taken a part time position with the local university as a researcher, which allowed him to do historical research for his own pleasure rather than a study plan for his students. Edie had taught business math, and was going to work with an accounting firm.

They both had independent pensions, and such so they would not be eating cat food, Edie advised Albert to get out and find someone and get on with his life. Albert though was a creature of habit almost catlike in his desire for a certain sameness in his life and environment. He liked things predictable and the same, day in and out, perhaps that was at the root of the problem with his marriage. Maybe he was not spontaneous enough, maybe he was blinkered maybe Edie had been unhappy for some time and he had not noticed who knew.

However he was not going to give up without at least a token struggle, Albert Stark notwithstanding. And as a result he had managed to persuade Edie to see a marriage counsellor with him, and to hopefully find some common ground and at the same time work out their problems. He should have know better as she agreed to easily.

He had his appointment set in his mind and even though the counsellor sounded like she should still be in high school, all the younger types these days did though, he took a deep breath and walked into the family counselling centre, and after getting the room number from the smarmy receptionist, god she was really young to, he proceeded to the designated room.

Albert knocked and was surprised, instead of a come in shouted by some harried overworked type, there was a pause and then the door opened and showed a young, of course, female with a pleasant face and manner. She gave her name and shook his hand smiling and ushered him into her inner sanctum.

Sitting down she asked him, pleasantly enough, for some administrative details such as age and address, and then the issue as he saw it, while they waited for Edie. She looked vaguely familiar to him but sad to say with the number of students that had passed through his classroom over the years so many people looked familiar, it was rare that he met some that actually did stand out so much he could name them.

Albert was not remarkable physically, he was average height, average weight, not paunchy like many his age but certainly no hard body either, he had lighter brown hair tending to red, which was a bit thin at the back, and a Nordic complexion with some freckles, he did not tan well. His main talent as a teacher and what had made him unforgettable to so many students was the passion he had always infused into the classes he taught. World history, with his specialty being European and American relations, he had always been able to get students interested in spite of themselves.

However right now, right here, he was at sea, he had no idea what to say regarding the apparent failure of his marriage. Running his fingers through his rumpled hair he sighed and said matter-of-factly “I have no idea, I had no clue that this was coming, and I don’t know, maybe that is the problem. Maybe Edie was unhappy for years and I was too self absorbed to see it, do you think I could be the reason, is it me?” His question struck him as having a somewhat desperate tone.

He couldn’t help notice the counsellor was regarding him somewhat oddly, no doubt she was an ex student, and was surprised he did no know her. He shook his head and went on, saying, “I made a reservation at our favourite restaurant, well I think it is OUR favourite restaurant, who knows.” He suddenly realized how desperate he must appear and wanted nothing more than to escape and lick his wounds when the phone rang.

The youngish counsellor answered it and listened nodding her head and then hanging up said, “that was the receptionist, apparently Edie has a sudden cold and won’t be attending, but you have already paid for an hour so why not tell me more of what you think, about the marriage,” she asked encouragingly.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown in his face and Fitz the self assured history teacher, BA, MA, and thirty years of control in his classroom, was suddenly in a situation where he felt nothing but humiliation. How could he have been so stupid to believe that Edie after a month of pleading had suddenly given in to his so easily.

If he had any hope prior to now about the viability of his marriage, he lost it at that moment, he almost felt he might break down, truth was he was at a loss for words and there were tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He tried to stem them but they came and there he was, his humiliation complete weeping like a teenager, in front of this young woman half his age.

closed thread for Melancholybaby and myself, as always comments and suggestions via PM are welcome and encouraged.

 

[MelancholyBaby]

The first day Claire Havord had seen a client outside of the safe confines of her university’s program she had been nervous. She had been well prepared, working with a group of many diverse clients over the last year and a half of her schooling. Claire liked this, she wanted this, and eventually she hoped she would take all that she had learned and apply it to her own life. The time would come. Claire would have to be ready for the change, after all.

The appointment she had at 2:30 this afternoon was giving her a similar bout of nervousness. The voice on the phone making the appointment had sounded familiar but she hadn’t made the connection until she was looking at her schedule this morning. It couldn’t possibly be Fitz, could it? It had been a long time since she had been a pupil in his classroom; high school was a distant and a better forgotten memory and Claire preferred to keep it that way. Maybe this Mr. Fitzmorris was not THE Mr. Fitzmorris. None of her training had prepared her for such a session. They didn’t exactly have a class on sessions with your old high school teacher.

Her mind wandered back to his classroom for a bit, his animated and enthusiastic manner a welcome relief from the monotone teachers she put up with in her other classes. Claire hadn’t had many friends in school, being very introverted and mature for her age; physically and intellectually. She couldn’t remember his face very well or what year she was in when she took his class but she did remember the kind comments he had written on her papers, the way he made things come alive.

She had tried to carry a similar passion for her work. She did teach in a way, she tried to guide her clients and help them get to know themselves and make good decisions; “good” being entirely subjective. Her stint in the family counseling center was not her ultimate aspiration, although she enjoyed it very much. There was just so much more Claire wished to learn yet there was that nagging voice in the back of her mind telling her that even girls with dreams need to make a living. She would, but she would never forget that she owed it to herself to go as far as she could.

She might have had an opportunity to, but things had worked themselves out in certain ways, and sometimes you just don’t question fate. She had been engaged for three years to a kind, sensitive, and loving man. Yet there was something missing. She had realized it watching Sex in the City. Claire couldn’t remember the exact episode now, but it had something to do with the “Za Za Zu.” Whatever the term was, she and Spencer didn’t have it. There was no spark. There was only safety and security and sameness.

Claire’s one-thirty appointment left, giving Claire fifteen minutes of charting time before the time with the new client. She had just flipped the file shut when she heard a gentle knock on the door. Taking a sip of water she got up and answered it, smiling warmly. “Claire Havord,” she said, extending her hand. “Please come in.”

She did her best to make him feel at ease. The first time meeting with a counselor is usually very awkward. Claire was aware that she was younger than some of her clients but tried her best to make age a non-issue. She tried to focus on being warm, honest, and trustworthy. Most of all she wanted to convey to every one of her clients that she just wanted to help to the best of her ability.

It had been probably ten years but Claire was sure that this was Fitz. Any doubt in her mind vanished when she had noticed that his wife had also been a teacher. Claire hadn’t had her but everyone knew that at school there were Mr. and Mrs. Fitzmorris. He had been a little early so she did her best to occupy the time with the necessary paperwork while waiting for his wife to show up. He couldn’t see the clock from where he was sitting but it was becoming clear to Claire that Mrs. Fitzmorris was probably not coming.

It had not taken any prodding from Claire to make Fitz open up. His desire to salvage his marriage was obvious and laudable. She felt for him as he talked, expressing his doubts; questioning so many things that he had taken for granted as things he knew about his wife. It was as if perhaps their entire relationship could have been based on his not knowing who his wife really was. Claire could imagine the terrible hurt and uncertainty he was feeling. You assume you know your spouse; their favorite things, hopes, dreams. And then you find out you may not have known them at all.

Claire shifted in her chair, moving forward, preparing to speak when the phone interrupted her. She didn’t have to answer. She knew who it was and what it would be about. She was a bit disappointed that Mrs. Fitz was not going to show. Her absence told Claire a lot. She supposed the ending of their marriage was inevitable, despite how much the man in front of her was desperate to change things.

“That was the receptionist, apparently Edie has a sudden cold and won’t be attending, but you have already paid for an hour so why not tell me more of what you think, about the marriage.” Claire invited him to speak, hoping that there was a little something she could do to help him move on with his life. It wouldn’t be easy. In front of her very eyes she saw him crack. The dignity he had clung to gave way to a current of tears. Tears of loss, of finality, of change.

In any other circumstance she would pass the Kleenex box kindly, put on her warmest and most sensitive expression and listen. But at this moment that seemed to be quite inadequate. Claire got up from her chair and took a few steps toward Fitz, offering him some tissues. She wrapped one arm around his back, tender yet casual. It was what he would have done to one of his students. She owed him this courtesy.

“I’m sorry,” she said, moving her hand in a comforting motion on his back. “It’s ok, let it out; tears are the catharsis of the soul.” His sobs shook his body despite his best efforts to collect himself. Claire couldn’t blame him; she would have been behaving similarly in a situation like this one. “It’s ok,” she whispered again. “You’ll get through this. I promise. I’ll help you.” Her hand continued the gentle motion on Fitz’s back, eventually she moved it away as he regained his composure. “You don’t have to apologize,” she said, a pre-emptive strike to the apology she knew was on its way.

Claire settled back in her chair. “What you do and say here stays here with me. If you need to cry, scream, swear…this is the place to do it.” A little voice entered the back of her head, making her recall her previous behavior and justify it. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. Typically I would not behave that way but…” She looked down briefly and then looked back up again, meeting his eyes. “I was one of your students. You should know that before we go any further. Claire Havord. World history. Nineteen ninety…” she paused, trying to remember the year before finishing “Seven. If you don’t feel comfortable I would of course understand and there wouldn’t be a charge for today. I just, well, that is why I did what I did. But now that I’ve got that out of my system I promise to return to my professional self at all times.” Claire smiled. With each minute he was there before her she was beginning to remember things about his class; who her classmates were, what kind of assignments she had, and the little things he did that made the class so interesting.

“If you’d like to continue with me, I will try to contact your wife and see if I can work out something with her. In the meantime, I’d like to get to know you better.” Claire crossed her legs, positioning the slender client file on her knee. “What are your hobbies? What do you do know that you’re retired from teaching? What are you going to do if Edie doesn’t come back?”

 

[OnHarry]

Albert had hardly noticed the calming hands on his back during his fit of emotion, and when Claire had admitted to being an ex student and offered to remove herself from his case he waved his hand dismissively, but when she said she would contact Edie and try and work something out, he clung to that like a child clinging to his mother after a fall.

“I would really appreciate it if you tried to contact Edie, for a future meeting that is so kind of you.”

Claire replied matter-of-factly “that is what I do.”

When she asked him about his hobbies and interests, Fitz became more his old self, the one Claire recalled from his classes, if only briefly. “my hobbies,” he replied to the question, “I garden, a common thing with teachers I suspect since we often had time on our hands in the summer. I read of course, the stuff that interests me, historically that is. My personal interest,” here he leaned forward and the brightness in his eyes showed her the old Fitz from her classes, “is the interwar years between the first and second world war. A world that was done with war, a world that strove for peace while all these shell shocked individuals wandered about, the music, Did I play music from the era, in the classes you took, I always find with younger people it seems to better ground them in the time and place if they hear the music of that era.”

Claire smiled, perhaps because she recalled the music or perhaps because he was out of his depression if only briefly, as she could not help but notice the desperation in his voice when he accepted her invitation to contact Edie.

Albert went on as he seemed to recall something, “I also cook, a lot, and have a wine cellar built up over the years,” Claire nodded as he spoke, “come to think of it, Edie rarely took much interest in the wine, she would drink it, happily at times perhaps too happily, but she rarely expressed much interest or desire to know anything beyond red or white.” Fitz slumped in his chair suddenly, something was dawning on him.

“Is something wrong?” asked Claire, not saying his name as if she was uncertain how to address him.

“In a sense yes, I think something is wrong, it just occurred to me that in fact Edie took little interest in anything I did or said, for sometime, I mean she ate the food she drank the wine, but she yawned through my windbag discussions of the pacifist writers of the twenties, you know Aldous Huxley , Vera Brittain, that lot.” Claire nodded.

Albert went on, “she did not like the gardening aspect either I don’t think, I mean she liked the way it looked and such, but beyond the obvious aesthetic value she did not care for it. I loved to get out there on a nice morning and get my hands into the dirt, I have almost forty two varieties of Lilium Tigrinum, imagine that.” His enthusiasm was obvious but then to, so was his bitterness as he slowly realized that he and Edie had not been living in the same world for some time.

Looking up at Claire he suddenly said, “damn it, if she did not like anything, if she did not take an interest, if she didn’t want that why didn’t she say so, instead of talking on line so much?”

“Edie was on line a lot?” asked Claire.

“Yes for the last. let me see, seven or eight years yes, constantly in chat rooms and such. She was a math type and computers appealed to her, I don’t know maybe the new guy Stark, is an accountant or something.”

“Were there any other issues, you can think of?” asked Claire once again.

Albert looked up and said wryly, “it wasn’t sex, hell we were doing it more now than when we were young parents years ago. We had the time, we had an empty house, we had more energy, yes I am sure that was fine, but there is much more to a relationship than that I know.”

Albert slumped again and then said, “I think my hour is almost up and anyway I have some things I must do, so if you would contact Edie and see what is what, that would be great but I doubt it will do any good. One favour though I ask?”

Claire nodded but said nothing in reply so he went on, “when you talk to Edie could you ask what it was that caused her to leave what did I do, what didn’t I do, or is it that modern euphemism they say so much, we just grew apart?”

“I will see what I can find out,” answered Claire.

Albert nodded and stood to go, saying, “thank you so very much, I will book another appointment for a week or so hence, and we can discuss it then, I look forward to that and it was nice meeting you again Claire, thanks.”

On his way out Albert made the appointment with the receptionist who for some reason seemed less smarmy than she had.

On his drive home, Albert thought about what had happened, how he had blathered on about his interests his wants his desires and it occurred to him that maybe that was the problem maybe he and Edie lived in two worlds, and had for some time. Maybe that was what people like Claire did they listened and such until you figured it out for yourself. Perhaps he did not do enough to make it work who knew.

When he arrived home, home that was a laugh, the place was in turmoil, there were boxes everywhere, and a lot of emptiness, Edie had removed her family things and such her books and her possessions. His stuff lay about books, research material, furniture and such. Her presence was more or less gone, well he wouldn’t miss the house all that much, but the garden, that he would miss.

He had spent the better part of twenty years building that garden, getting everything just where he wanted it where it would grow well. He slumped once more into a chair and looked about him at the disorder. He would return next week to Ms.
Havord, but he knew there would be no reconciliation, there would be no return to what had been, whether he liked it or not it was the new world, and he thought of Huxley’s ‘Brave New World.’

It was a terrible place to be, alone with reality, in a place you had to leave, that would never be your home again, and for the second time that day he wept even more uncontrollably than before.