A Serious Talk

A Serious Talk

Vera's car was there, no others, and Burt gave thanks for that.
Unfortunately, when he entered the hall he realised, to his dismay, it
would not be just him and her. The vast hall was lined with plastic
grey chairs, each of which was occupied by a person. A person who each
had their own identity, their own problem, their own need to get
better. However to Burt he saw them as all the same: they were there
when he wanted to be alone with Vera - in others words, they were in
his way.
He went and sat in one of the still unoccupied chairs at the back of
the hall, and waited for the talk to start. He wrung his hands
nervously; he had never liked being in a crowd, acting like the others,
becoming another blank faced, and zombie-like individual, only one who
had lost that individuality among the swarm of people, all acting as
meaningless as the statistics they had been born. Burt hated
that.
The stern, well dressed woman, in a grey trouser suit, stepped out
onto the stage. It was Vera and she started speaking in that same husk
voice she had always had, ever since she and Burt were children.
It had never surprised Burt that Vera had become a counsellor; she had
always been dishing out advice to all her friends when she was
younger.
Burt ignored her ramblings; he had heard it all before. He knew that
once the speech was ended his peers would be would be split up into
smaller groups - groups that would be lead by one of the other
counsellors who lined the back of a stage, all except Vera. He knew he
would wait behind, so he could talk to her individually. This time was
going to be different.
It was going to be different in many ways, life changing even.
Firstly, because Vera was, in fact, going to be leading one of the many
family counselling sessions. This was in the hope that Burt would join
in, and, after much persuasion (Vera knew Burt would give in
eventually, his infatuation with her was too strong for him not to), he
decided to join her and they made their way to one of the smaller side
rooms.
After sitting down on another of the plastic chairs, which was placed
in a circle, the group were soon on their feet again as the
'Introduction' began. This consisted of a steady stream of names and
(similar) problems from each person. It was all going smoothly, until
it was Burt's turn.
"I'm Burt" he said, "and this is my wife Beth." He produced 'Beth'
from a pocket in his jacket and held it up for all to see. A wide grin
spread across his face. 'Beth' was actually an urn, which contained the
remains of the wife, who Burt had adored before her death due to lung
cancer. The urn had become known as 'The Ashtray' by the counsellors,
because Burt turned up with it every week and it reminded them of
cigarette ash, which, considering how much Beth had smoked, was
probably the main substance that actually made up the remnants.
Despite all their preaching on how smoking was bad for your health, a
lot of the counsellors smoked and had done for the majority of their
lives. It seemed likely that they would meet the same fate as
Beth.
"Burt! Put that away. We talked about that last week" snapped Vera,
her cool, collected, seemingly steadfast and resolute front breaking
under such a small pressure. The puzzled onlookers watched the
transformation, amazed.
"I know but?"
"No buts. Come with me, I'll have to find other ways of convincing
you." Vera's commanding image returned and, after apologising to her
other patients, lead Burt into an even smaller room.
"Burt, we've been through this. I can't help you unless you get over
her, put her away, or even scatter her ashes! Anything to stop you from
bringing her here. It freaks everything out, including me. You saw the
looks on their faces when you produced that THING!" She motioned back
towards the last room, where the others were talking among each other,
shocked at the events of the previous few minutes.
"But I need her?"
"I told you, no BUTS!" Vera shouted angrily, before grabbing the urn
and smashing it onto the floor. She showed no reaction - as if the
whole thing had been planned, but instead lit a cigarette, and once she
had taken a long drag, tapped the ashes onto the pile of Beth's ashes
and broken pottery.
"W?Wh?What have you done?" cried Burt, collapsing onto his knees and
sieving the ashes through his fingers, he was devastated and crying,
his whole body shaking. "Beth?" he whispered, before jumping up and
turning on Vera: "You? Why? Did our friendship mean nothing to you? So
little that you'd go and do something like that?"
"Burt," replied Vera casually, leaning against the wall, with the hand
that wasn't holding the cigarette folded across her chest. She took
another drag on the cigarette and then blowing smoke onto Burt's face
and continuing: "We were never friends. You were such a loner, that you
turned the poor girl you paid for advice into your supposed friend.
Come on, I have a session to lead." She flicked the cigarette butt onto
the remains of 'The Ashtray,' before stepping on it with her heel. As
the pottery snapped underfoot, Burt winced and his face crumbled. She
then proceeded to strut back into the other room. A sniffling Burt
followed her in a daze, like a hurt dog returning home to face the
harsh reality of life outside its little bubble, with it's tale drooped
between its legs.

"So," asked one of Vera's counsellor friends after the sessions had
finished, "how was the session with Burt today?"
Vera replied quickly and smugly: "It was hard to manage, until he put
'The Ashtray' down."