Read Online Panorama City by Antoine Wilson - Free Book Online

still wearing my uniform. I explained that I was taking pride in my work, and I had thought how to best convey that, not the words I used, I don’t remember the words I used, and I figured keeping my uniform on while I rode the bus home was a good way, like those soldiers and sailors you see in the street. She said to get in, I folded myself into the Tempo. She had finished work early, she said, she had gone to Glendale to notarize some loan papers, she was a notary public, her job was to drive around and make sure that people were who they said they were, she was in the verifying and certifying business. Someone in Northridge had canceled on her and so she’d decided to pick me up straight from work rather than wait for me to come home via bus, she had moved up my appointment by an hour. I didn’t know what she was talking about. She said she’d made an appointment with someone called Dr. Rosenkleig. I said I felt fine. She explained that Dr. Rosenkleig was a therapist, I was going to see him to talk about my feelings in the wake of my father’s death, he could evaluate my feelings. She said I could talk freely with him, because he was a professional talker and listener. That made me nervous, I had always been an amateur at both.
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    Dr. Rosenkleig’s office was not in Panorama City but just across the invisible line dividing it from Van Nuys. The office was in his house, his yard was neatly trimmed, the pebbles bordering the path were neatly aligned, the grass looked greener and healthier than the neighbors’ on either side, I wondered if he and Aunt Liz shared the same gardener. The office entrance was to the right of the front door. Once you were inside, though, it was obvious you could walk straight through the office and into the house, everything was under the same roof, it was obvious to anyone with any knowledge of houses and how they are built or demolished that all he’d done was add a separate entrance to a spare bedroom. The walls were covered with certificates and plaques, they were covered completely, there wasn’t room for even one more plaque. Aunt Liz dropped me off that first time and said she would be back to pick me up, she dropped me off after introducing me to Dr. Rosenkleig, whose name was Armando, who said, Call me Armando. He didn’t wear a doctor’s jacket or stethoscope, he wore a thick multicolored sweater, it was not cold in his office, his sweater looked like some kind of beast that was digesting him. His hair was what they call salt and pepper, he kept his chin up high like a cat feeling the sun on his face. I wasn’t sure what to say, I wasn’t sure how to start our conversation, so I explained to Dr. Armando Rosenkleig that I was new in Panorama City, that I had been there only a day, that I was twenty-seven years old, and so on. Then we were quiet, he didn’t say anything for a long time, I waited for him to respond. He sat on a hard wooden chair, I sat on a sofa, he took some notes on a yellow legal pad, after twenty minutes he started to look sleepy, he looked like he was having trouble not falling over sideways, his chair had no arms. He asked me why I had come to see him, and I said that Aunt Liz had brought me. He asked me why I thought Aunt Liz had brought me, and I said that she wanted me to talk about my feelings in the wake of my father’s death. He asked me what my feelings were in the wake of my father’s death and I didn’t know what to say, it didn’t seem like a question you could just answer. I was confused as to how this man could have become a professional talker and listener. I couldn’t help but wonder, if you weren’t a very good talker and listener, why would you become a professional at it?
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    Later, much later, Paul Renfro explained to me that typically people become professionals at things they have no aptitude for. People who choose to wear the mantle of professionalism wear that