Chester Fields Read online

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Author’s Note: I love to receive feedback on what I write, good or bad. Please feel free to do so on Amazon or by emailing me at [email protected]. Thanks so very much for reading my story.

  Other stories by Charles Kohlberg…

  Terror Birds

  Banana Teeth and Road Rage

  Best Summer Ever

  The Letters

  Song Lyrics for the Recordings of Charles Kohlberg

  CDs by Charles Kohlberg…

  All These Feelings

  It’s Only Personal

  Not Good Enough

  Letter to the Editor

  Agathocacological

  © Copyright 2011, Charles Kohlberg, All Rights Reserved

  Chester Fields

  “That’s nice of you to say Chester; I’ll do my best to maintain your trust. You have my trust as well, and I intend to give you the benefit of the doubt at every turn.”

  “Thanks Doctor Stanley”, Chester replied. “I’ve been looking forward to our talk since we met yesterday.”

  “Good to hear Chester; and feel free to call me Rich, okay? Now; though I am anxious to hear everything you have to say about this past week, I think it’d be good if we got to know each other a little better first.” I felt like I was off to a good start with this patient. As I normally do, I told him about myself first. “I’m from Manson, Connecticut. I grew up there and still live there today. I’ve been married twelve years to my wife, Ruth, and we are planning to start a family in the very near future. I’m not much of a sports fan; I like chess, running, and classical music.” Chester was courteous when I spoke and from there went straight into his story.

  “I’ve often wondered if being given the name of Chester Fields was to insure I grew up with both a good sense of humor and a thick hide,” He began. “What other possible reason could my parents have had for choosing that name? I’ll never know. I mean “Fields” would be an alright last name with almost anything other than Chester. I don’t know if you’re aware, but I can’t ask them about it. In fact, I don’t even remember them anymore. They both died when I was four. I’ve been raised by my Aunt Lisa and Uncle Stan; Katz. They’re from my mother’s side of the family, and though I still call them Aunt Lisa and Uncle Stan, they’re the only parents I ever knew, or I should say remember. They either haven’t been able to, or willing to, tell me why I was given this name; I’ve never been quite sure which. And, as best as I could ever tell, they’ve never been able to relate to any of my other problems either. You know, as parents, they weren’t ever really mean or nasty to me, but at the same time it was apparent, to me at least, that they didn’t take any joy in raising me either. It was like doing the dishes. They didn’t complain, but just did ‘em, cos’ they had to be done. But crap man, my name is the same as a brand of cigarettes! To me it’s like, how could you not know that’s going to make life difficult for a kid? Still, everyone in my family acted like they didn’t understand! And they wouldn’t under any circumstances, let me change or even use another name either. They said that would be disrespectful to my parents.

  As I’m sure you know; in school, kids can be cruel. As soon as one person found out my name was the same as a brand of cigarettes, the word spread quickly. And, the fact that my last name differed from my so-called ‘parents’ name, somehow became another reason to pick on me. I realize that those may not sound like very good reasons to abuse someone, and I would agree; but they’re pretty much the only reasons anyone ever gave me. I’ve come to think that some people have a certain intangible, and I’m one of them. I don’t know exactly what it is, but this intangible; is a certain something that makes people dislike me.”

  I made a quick note about this. I may have to dig a little deeper here. Sometimes people alienate themselves purposely. They put up walls and close out the world in fear of rejection thereby having the same end result as if there really was something not to like. But it wasn’t time to interrupt him; I could see he was just getting warmed up.

  Chester went on, “It seemed like my family and the few friends I had were always telling me the teasing would stop soon; because we were all getting older, and everyone’s getting more mature, etc., but through the years it only ever got worse. All the way through grammar school, junior high, and now high school it steadily worsened. I realize it’s at least partially my fault because I never stood up to them. But that sure as hell doesn’t put me in the wrong either.”

  “So; a few weeks ago, after all these years of being tormented; it all came to a head. In my, mind, it came to a head,” he said very deliberately. “I absolutely and completely made up my mind I was through trying to fit in; and I was through caring. From that point on, I decided nothing would pierce my hide so to speak, that everything was going to slide right off me. The idea sat really well with me and I was proud that it was me who thought of it. And I decided, not just the spoken word, but the physical attacks I experienced from time to time would no longer bother me or hurt me anymore. Instead of bottling up all the physical and emotional pain, from here on out, it was going to just roll off of me. At that point I was thinking yes this is it; something in my very soul told me this would lead somewhere good. But I didn’t understand where and that’s what I put my mind to. So everything that’s happened lately comes down to this theory I developed about how the universe works. I was able to work it out as a result of my meditating. So I’d like to tell you all about this if you don’t mind. I think you’ll find it interesting. Is that okay Doctor St-, eh, Rich? “

  “Of course Chester,” I replied smiling, “I may have another question or two for you at some point, but you’re doing so well articulating what’s going on. Boy, I wish all my patients were like you! And, Chester, there is nothing not to like about you. I don’t know how I feel about your theory on the universe yet, but I disagree with you on the, you not being likeable theory. You are very, very likable. But, please continue. I just wanted you to know I like you.”

  Chester continued. “Well, it started to come together around the time we were learning about spiders in biology; which was about a month or so ago. Sometime after that I realized “why” my instincts about my theory were right. It was in meditation when I suddenly had this sort of epiphany that all the energy within the universe is like one humongous spider web. But this web is a sort of a, ah, an energy field; and it’s connected to everything, all living things, including us human beings. Now, the vibrations in a spider’s web, tell the spider exactly where in their web the prey is, how large it is, and whether it’s struggling; weak, injured, or strong and on and on. Well, the energy of this web is very similar. It explains what’s never been explained. It’s how a parent can sense their child, or spouse or a loved one has been hurt, or maybe had an accident, or has died; even though it happens far away. And twins have been found to have those kinds of connections. It’s where hunches come from.

  Everything we do affects this field, or web; and those changes can be felt by others. Everything is connected but we don’t realize it, or at least the extent of it. We don’t tune into it and we’re not sensitive to many of its vibrations, so we don’t know there’s all this information there. The only things most people can pick up on is what they’re most tuned into. Mothers, twins, and certain animals have inherently stronger connections to it. Oh, and especially dogs. They often have a sixth sense of where their master is at a given time. I decided if someone concentrated hard enough, they could enhance their connection to this field; hopefully even more so
than the receptive mother or twin I mentioned.

  Through weeks of almost constant meditation, I became more sensitive to this field. And the more sensitive to it I became, the more I was able to learn from it. And the more tuned in one is and the more you learn, the more control you have over the energy you put out to the field. With my decision to let everything slide off me, what I ultimately accomplished was to not let anything my tormentors did to me, have an effect on the field. If I was right, they wouldn’t get the feedback from the field they would normally get from harassing me. So what I intended was to make it unrewarding to them, without them knowing why.

  Well, it worked! The more I focused on keeping the field steady, which I quickly got better and better at; the less satisfaction they got from hassling me. Unfortunately, for them, the lack of influence they had on the field seemed to make them angry, and they didn’t quite understand it. I think it’s because they subconsciously knew it was I, who took away their control of the field. So the first several days with my new attitude, the bullying got worse. And the more I didn’t respond to it, the more intense it got. In fact they got so frustrated, they manufactured an excuse to take it up a level or two. They said my ignoring them was disrespecting them and they were going to have to beat me up after school that day.”

  I must admit that at this point I felt like I expected more from Chester. Ignoring someone vying for attention makes them angry because of a web of energy!? At the same time, he was speaking to me freely, which was very good and should allow him to work his way into what I really wanted to hear about.

  Chester continued, “Believe it or not, I was looking forward to their following through on the threat. In the past, I would have run in a case like this, but this time I was determined to just keep steadily walking along, and no matter what they did, not let it affect the field. They no longer existed to me. I didn’t respond physically or verbally to the beatings they dished out. I think I may have had a sort of smirk on my face and it drove them crazy. To be certain I was keeping them from affecting the field, I wouldn’t respond to my Aunt and Uncle’s prodding, the school’s prodding, not even the police when my Aunt and Uncle called them in, to get me to explain my bumps and bruises. Even though they were all bugging the crap out of me, I can’t explain how peaceful it felt when I managed to just tune everyone out and keep the field even and uninterrupted. My only concern was how my new attitude came across to Uncle Stan and Aunt Lisa and how much of it they would stand before they decided to put me away.

  Even though that turned out to be a valid concern, I managed to keep it from disrupting the field along with everything else. Anyway, the next day when the other kids came to assault me again, the effect on them was clear. They were completely befuddled and suddenly stopped, all agreeing I wasn’t worth their time. I was pretty sure they weren’t going to bother me anymore. Any future interactions would be controlled by me now. Dr Stanley; I’m telling you, this field … is real!”

  “Hmm, that’s really good Chester”, I said while he sipped his water. “Do you feel like taking a break now, or would you like to keep going?” I must say, I was really interested in where he was going with this, but he’d been talking for quite some time.

  “I’d like to go on”, he said. I told him to continue whenever he was ready. “Well, about four days after my control over changes in the field, I got home from school around three-thirty and plopped onto my bed. As I lay there, I closed my eyes and just started concentrating on trying to meld with and into the field and letting go, let go, let go, over and over. My ability to meditate had increased with my control of the field. That day it felt like my ability suddenly blossomed a hundred fold. I got incredibly relaxed and eventually felt like I’d gained access to some sort of; I don’t quite know how to describe it. I suppose a mental door is as good a way as any. Whatever it is, I knew if I could open that door, it would affect great change. I just had no idea what kind of change. I got a little scared and the feeling started to fade. Then I decided to just go for it.

  I let my concerns go again and came back to the same place. I reached out in my mind and opened the door; and everything physical was just gone! All my senses affirmed told me everything was gone and I couldn’t feel my bed, or even the necessity to breath. I’d gotten somewhere special; of that I was sure. Obviously, this wasn’t the improvement in my life people had in mind when they were trying to encourage me, was it? Those around me said I was supposed to come out of my shell, and as I fit in more and more, things would sort of improve naturally. But I felt like, I’ll take being alone in this way, over anything.

  What I found was this incredible power just lying there, dormant, in my mind. It’s a power strong enough to take me out of this reality, and to stand me up before the mass energy field. And it was a lot like I’d imagined it, and yet so much, much more. I believe this knowledge is buried in a far away recess in all our minds, and I managed to open mine. Oh, it’s so much more interesting than the regular world. And yes; I’ll say ‘regular world’ and not ‘real world’ like you’re probably thinking I should. Our minds are so much more powerful than anyone ever imagined and who would have ever thought that I would be one of the improbable few to have ever experienced it! When I realized I could see new worlds, universes; and that there are many other realities, I went wild with satisfaction and contentment. I don’t know how else to describe it. This was what the Buddha called Nirvana. Standing over that field is like looking down on all of creation from outside all the universes; it’s like being God!” He looked warily at me as he finished his sentence.

  “Chester,” I said looking him directly in the eye, “I don’t know if---”

  “I got the same response when I tried to tell everyone else,” he interrupted in a frustrated tone, “and it’s always at this point in my story where everyone shuts me down. My Aunt and Uncle, my friend Russ, different cops and now you; nobody wants to let me finish so they can hear the truth. I never said I was God; I said it felt like it.”

  “Alright, Alright, let’s take it easy,” I said calmly. I like to avoid a situation where the patient tries to convince me he’s become a deity. At the very least I prefer they understand I’m not a believer or subject of theirs. I don’t want them getting the idea they can intimidate me. I think I anticipated him going down that road and I jumped the gun. He probably didn’t mean it the way it sounded. The boy obviously had some sort of vivid dream or hallucination, and I realized I should’ve just let him continue; especially learning no one else had heard him out. After all, this was the part I really did want to hear, and the goal was always to first find out exactly what happened to the boys that had been bullying him. “Sorry Chester; please continue. I shouldn’t have stopped you. I’ll listen to everything you have to say before I interrupt you again. I’m going to try not to judge anything you say or attempt to analyze what you say while you’re speaking to me; deal?”

  By the way, I wasn’t just patronizing him here, so he’d continue to talk. I meant every word of it, and as a matter of policy, I try to be as honest and as frank as I can possibly be with all my patients. Though that can be difficult to do at times as a Psychiatrist, to do otherwise is in my view, disrespectful. It’s not so relevant in this case, but in my office practice, I take pride in the fact I schedule only one patient per hour, giving each one a full forty-five to fifty minutes, or as much as they want or need of it. The rest of the hour is used to finish my notes and prepare for the next patient. I’ve noticed most of my peers schedule a patient every forty-five minutes, bill for the full forty-five minutes, and shorten the actual appointments by whatever time they need to spend on notes and paperwork. When I started my practice, my way didn’t work out quite as well financially. But over time, I built up a very good reputation and practice; and now I get called in on special cases all over the region, which pays very well. The way I see it, my career is working out now because I was a little less aggressive to begin with. I don’t mean to brag, but I know for a
fact that I’m viewed favorably, and well respected by my peers. In fact that’s why they called me in on Chester’s case. And this is another of those cases that I will be well paid for. Doctor Mars, the top dog at Easton Mental Hospital personally called me to come in on this case.

  He told me in his briefing that “Chester has claimed responsibility for leaving several of his fellow students comatose and essentially brain dead; by taking them along on some sort of astral projection experience with him. Obviously he’s delusional to some degree, but at the same time we have three of his schoolmates, who all coincidentally lapsed into comas as they slept Monday night.

  They also happened to be the same boys that are known to have bullied him. They all test positive for marijuana, but nothing else thus far. The police think he may have given them some tainted weed or some other drug, which they all then took. And if he’s claiming responsibility, he should at least know what it was they took. Whatever the case is, we’d like you to see if you can find out if Chester had something to do with it.”

  I normally keep Thursdays open for special appointments like these, or to use as the occasional day off. I headed the sixty miles down to Easton late Wednesday afternoon after my last appointment, took care of some paperwork and other business at the offices there and stopped in to meet Chester. Chester was admitted that morning for evaluation. I did my best to forget everything I’d heard about him. I knocked at his door, went in and introduced myself. “Chester, I’m Doctor Stanley, but feel free to call me Rich,” I said extending my hand. We shook hands, and even though he hadn’t said a word, I liked him. He had a decent grip and looked me right in the eye. His hair was short and kind of dark brown. He had bright blue eyes that stood out against his brown hair and kind of a dark complexion (for a Caucasian). At sixteen years old, he wasn’t a bad looking kid. I suppose he was a bit awkward, but no more so than most boys his age. He was on the small side for sixteen, but once he started to talk to me, I was struck how well spoken he was. I thought we’d hit it off pretty well, which can be a real timesaver in getting to the issues.