Drake sat in the crowd and gazed at a woman pacing up and down a stage. He observed her luxurious Ralph Lauren glasses, her hair all tied up in a neat little bun, the way she took the time to pronounce her every word and the way she kept strong eye contact with her audience to portray confidence. She stopped and stared at Drake, who matched her stare with the oblivious grinding of his teeth. “Some of you will leave here today perfectly cured,” she said, “others, not so much.” She strutted back to the other side of the stage, the loud thumps of her heels almost destroying the remnants of peace within Drake. Oh, how her presence maddened him.
The crowd sat in awe.
The woman stopped again, eyes fixed on the audience. She then asked as intuitively as ever, “What … IS … anger management?”
Silence from the crowd.
“Before I tell you what it is,” she said, “does anyone care to take a shot at the question?”
“Screw you, lady!” a man yelled from the midst of the gathering. “I don’t need no woman tellin’ me how ter manage nothin’!”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said, calmly eyeing the culprit. Then she reverted her attention to the rest of the crowd. “Anyone else?”
The man swore and stormed out of the auditorium.
Drake stood up, all eyes on him. “Is there a point to this seminar?” A scowl. “Never mind.” He departed as well.
Fifteen minutes later Drake had been heading towards an exit with a sign above it that said, “Thank you for visiting the 2020 Expo of Human Emotions.” He smiled, a dry sort of smile, and continued on his way.
“Wait!”
Drake whirled around to see the one person he did not wish to see rushing towards him. The clunking of her heels alone was enough to irritate him, plus the fine leather and gleam of her designer handbag. He rolled his eyes. “What is it, Dr…” He studied the name pinned to her blouse.
“Frazzanhire,” the woman replied. “Dr. Fran Frazzanhire.”
Learning her name only exacerbated Drake’s mood. “What do you want?”
The doctor frowned. “That wasn’t nice back there, you know—trying to show me up like that. Why’d you attend my seminar if you thought it would be pointless?”
Drake smirked. “What, the Harvard grad psychiatrist can’t figure it out?”
“Oh, so that’s what this is about. You’re intimidated by my…”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Drake interjected. “No one person is that special.” He inched closer towards the door.
Fran followed him. “You need help. Let me help you.”
“I don’t think you can.” He was almost through the door now.
“Here, take this.” Fran offered him a small notepad with a gold pen attached to it.
Drake acknowledged her gesture but scoffed. “Thanks, but I can afford my own … even if I aint a hotshot doctor like you are.”
Fran stood within a hall filled with busy people and watched as Drake disappeared through the doorway. Hmm, it’s been a while since I met someone like him.
On the way home from the exhibition that evening Drake passed in front of a coffee shop and saw two men inside sitting at a table, each dressed in business suits and holding a glass mug. One man held the mug by its handle while using his other hand to toy with his smartphone, smiling at the screen while at it; the other man held the mug with both hands but was instead sitting in relaxed silence as he observed the contentment of his friend.
Drake glared at the man messing with his phone and felt rage overtaking him. He hurried the rest of the way home, his anger only subsiding as he stepped through his front door. Drake had it all: a huge kitchen, upscale bathroom and living room, brass chandeliers, a 150-inch TV and much more; yet, all he did as he arrived home was take a cold shower then went straight to bed.
He awoke the next morning to the ringing of his cell phone and a Bible next to him. He frowned at both items but answered the phone in a cranky voice due to its insistence. “Hello.”
“Hello. Drake? Don’t get mad. I got your number from the contact form you filled out at the seminar yesterday.”
Drake barked, “Who is this?”
“It’s Fran.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“No, wait. I sent you something.”
“You did what?”
“A package. You should receive it in the mail today.”
“I didn’t ask you to…”
“Take a look at it, Drake. Try it. If it doesn’t work. I promise to never bother you again.”
“I don’t know what your deal is, Fran but…”
“Just try it, Drake.” And she hung up.
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