In Treatment (2008–2010): Season 2, Episode 9 - Walter: Week Two - full transcript
Paul links Walter's panic attacks to a childhood tragedy.
It's fine.
Old.
Hm-hmm.
Actually, Mom, Dad said he liked my hair.
Hm-hmm.
Yeah.
Anyway, Mom, I gotta go.
Dad's gonna make breakfast.
Yes, on the stove.
Okay, love you, too... Bye.
Where did she think I was gonna make
breakfast, in the washing machine?
She just assumed we'd go out.
Oh. Did you, did you want to go out?
I don't care.
I just don't want a
"Kramer vs. Kramer" moment, you know?
That happens to be
one of your mom's favorite movies.
And one of mine, incidentally.
- Well, that explains quite a bit.
- Yes, it does.
Paul Weston?
Sign here, please.
Sure.
What is it?
Okay, thanks.
From a law firm.
- It's nothing.
- What is it?
I mean... you're not being sued, are you?
By who?
Mom?
You know that's, that's all settled.
Then who? It's not one of your patients?
It is, isn't it?
You know I can't talk about stuff like that.
- Then who can you talk about it with?
- I have a lawyer.
You can't talk to a lawyer.
Rosie, it's under control.
Right. Because you always
control everything so well.
Is this what you wanted? I don't get it!
You know, it's like you're...
condemning yourself to a life of loneliness.
And for what, Dad? For patients
who sue you when you try to help them?
I mean, is this really how you
wanted everything to turn out?
It's gonna be fine, Rosie, really.
Please! You always say that.
You're just making shit up.
No, no, I already told you:
No more hugs. Not until you come home.
Rosie, you know that's not gonna happen.
You don't deserve it.
Nice turtle.
In Treatment, S02E09
Walter: Week Two
So, I'm sure this week you read up on me.
You mean, about your company?
I won't hold it against you.
We've got a target on our backs.
Moved off that business section you never read
into the front section.
Any day now there's going to be
a feeding frenzy.
Actually, I did read a few articles,
but mostly about the industry,
not specifically about you.
Fine, fellow, fine.
Connie thinks this reporter
at The Times has it in for me.
Do you think she's right?
Well, like you said, the whole industry
is reeling from this,
but, for some reason, Brenda Starr
over there has decided
to make me the poster child for the scandal.
It got so bad this week that Connie asked me
if I'd ever laid off the girl's father.
Do you agree with her
that this reporter is out to get you?
Those articles, they're not based on facts.
She's just listening to somebody.
I don't know who.
Some malcontent who has just enough
information to sound knowledgeable
and do serious damage.
So if I follow you, then,
this may not be a reporter's vendetta, but...
it could actually be the work
of somebody from inside the company.
Well, I didn't wanna think that,
but the Donaldsons, that's the family with
the majority stake, they're convinced of it.
Old man Donaldson said,
"Walter, we have a Judas in our midst".
That must be, uh... pretty disturbing...
not knowing who to trust
in the midst of a crisis.
Well, that's business.
But what's really disturbing
is for her to imply
that I would endanger the health
of children just to turn a profit.
I mean, that's completely irresponsible.
I'm a father, for Christ's sake.
Got a daughter who's probably
reading about this online.
Are you worried about how she might react?
No, no.
She knows who her old man is.
But -- I am worried that these articles
might be putting Natalie in jeopardy.
I'm not sure that I follow.
Well, God forbid,
they find out she's my daughter.
For all I know, they probably already have.
Maybe she's already disappeared.
Maybe they're stalling for time
while he decides
how much ransom he thinks he can ask for.
Do you think I sound crazy?
I think your anxiety
might be influencing your judgment.
Well, I'm not the only one.
Connie's allergies are acting up.
She's losing weight.
Or maybe she's worried for you.
Me? About what? My job?
No, that reporter from The Times
who's trying to get me fired,
she's the one who should be worried.
Or do I sound crazy?
Actually I think you sound, uh, quite confident,
for a man in the midst of a...
what did you call it, a "feeding frenzy"?
Yeah, well, there's a reason for that:
the Donaldsons.
I've worked for them for over 35 years.
I'm like a son to them.
Can I ask you what you're thinking about now?
That's right.
You're the fellow who wants me to say
whatever pops into my head.
I was just thinking, they had a son... James.
We were in the war together...
Army Corps of Engineers.
We tried to build bridges over there,
helping people who were taking shots at us.
When we got back to the States,
I got my degree and he
brought me into the company.
If I'd looked out for him as much over here
as we did for each other over there,
he might still be around.
What happened to him?
He drove too fast.
You see a family through a loss
like that and they're not gonna...
Ah, this crisis'll blow over, they always do.
I think I've talked enough.
Would you mind telling me
what you're thinking?
Well, just now I was struck
by the way you said that the, uh...
the crisis would blow over.
It reminded me of what you said
last week as, as you were leaving.
What did I say?
I asked you if you should call
your doctor, and you said it'll go away.
"It always goes away."
Yeah, last week.
Look, I think I also said I was sorry
if I... gave you a scare.
But... these things, they look
worse than they are.
And what are they, exactly?
Well, whatever they are,
they're not gonna kill me.
They're inconvenient, sure,
but... they go away.
And have you ever mentioned them to anyone?
I have a gold-plated executive health plan.
I don't really need it,
but the company insists on it.
If there's anything wrong,
they would have found out.
So you told your doctor
that you were having trouble sleeping,
but you didn't say anything
about the panic attacks.
They're not panic attacks.
And what makes you so sure?
They don't happen under stressful situations.
They happen at dinner sometimes, or a movie,
or, evidently, during a therapy session.
Have you had one since then?
Actually, I had one this week
in the elevator, of all places.
Would you care to tell me about that?
What do you want me to do,
describe the elevator for you?
Well, did anything unusual
happen that, that morning?
No.
Okay. Why, why don't you just describe then...
the details of that morning as you remember?
This is like the game my wife used to play
with our kids at the dinner table.
We'd ask them how school was,
they'd say, "Fine".
Asked them what happened -- "Nothing".
Finally my wife made them walk
through the day, step by step.
Is that really what you're looking for?
Humor me.
Okay. Got out of the town car,
went into the building,
met the new security guard,
showed him my passport,
went through the gates,
got on the elevator,
my heart started racing,
my throat closed up,
elevator doors opened,
went into my office.
This is about the time
that Natalie would usually say,
"Can I be excused now?"
Are you saying that you find
this exercise pointless?
Well, I don't mean to be
a doubting Thomas,
but I don't see anything that would have
caused a panic attack, do you?
You said there was a new security guard.
Yeah, a kid. What about him?
Anything unusual about, about that?
Did it upset you? Maybe, that you
had to show him your I.D.?
You don't know me at all.
I knew Bob for over 30 years,
and I always made a point
of showing him my I.D.
And, and what happened to Bob?
He died, according to the kid.
Uh, dropped dead of heart failure.
Disappeared.
Were you and Bob close?
I'd nod to him in the morning.
He'd say, "Hey, Mr. B.,
how about those Knicks?"
I'd say, "They're breaking my heart, Bob".
Just same conversation for 30 years.
It sounds like you two had a morning ritual.
Do you think that you miss him?
Bob?... No, Paul, I don't miss Bob.
I... I enjoyed our banter
and I feel sorry for his family, but...
he meant nothing to me.
I just wonder if there might be some
connection between Bob's death and...
your attack in the elevator, that's all.
I think you're grasping
for straws there, fella.
Okay.
Where did you go to school?
Here... in the city.
Are you worried
I'm not qualified to treat you?
It was just a question.
Anyway, it doesn't matter. Like I said,
I've had these since I was a kid.
I'm used to them.
From when you were a kid?
Really?
Off and on.
Well, do you remember how old you were
when you experienced your first one?
- Four or five, I guess.
- Four or five, that seems very young.
No, right...
Six.
I had to be six. I was already
sleeping in my brother's room.
Were you, were you close...
- with your brother?
- He died when I was a boy.
He drowned.
How, how did it happen?
Oh, well, this was in rural Pennsylvania.
It was an old limestone quarry lake.
A swimming hole, really.
40-foot cliffs.
It was a hot summer night.
And what age was he?
16.
Getting ready to go to college
in the fall... Yale.
He seemed kinda young for that, but...
he skipped a few grades.
All the brightest kids did back then.
But of all of them,
Tommy was the brightest.
You have no idea.
A real golden boy, valedictorian,
full scholarship.
Tommy walked on water.
How was it for you when he...
when he died?
Fine.
I don't even know if I really knew
what was going on. I was so young.
And your parents...
How did they, how did they grieve?
They didn't.
Well, of course they did.
I mean, they had to, but...
they shielded me from that.
But you, you knew something was going on?
All I know is that one day
Tommy just wasn't there, and...
I think I stayed with the neighbors
for a few nights, and then...
I went home.
My dad was sitting on the porch,
drinking his lager, waiting for me.
He walked me up to my brother's room.
All his stuff was still there.
Nothing changed.
My father said, "This is yours now.
"I just told your mother,
'Now I know why we had you'."
Then he turns around and leaves me there.
Or, at least, that's how I remember it.
It's a very, uh, that's a
very powerful memory.
Well, like I said, I was young.
I might have it wrong.
And when you tell it now to me,
what emotions does it,
does it bring up for you?
I just feel sorry for the old man.
Tommy was everything to him.
And your mother? How did she react?
Her hair turned white.
She had this gorgeous auburn hair.
And then, overnight,
she changed into an old woman.
I thought she was a changeling for a while,
that my real mother was...
trapped somewhere far away.
Walter, what...
what you're, what you're talking about...
describing, it's...
it's significant.
It must have been...
hard for you...
to cope with the loss of your brother
and your parents' grief.
Kids are resilient. They survive.
But you began to have these attacks
after you were sleeping in Tommy's room.
Yeah, I did. So, so what?
Like I said, they, they only
occurred while I was sleeping.
And... what were they like back then?
I'd wake up sweating and shaking.
- Did you ever tell your parents?
- No, they had enough on their minds.
And these, these panic attacks,
just like now, they would go away?
There you go again with this panic.
Haven't you been listening?
How could they be panic attacks?
They happened when I was asleep.
How stressed out could I have been?
As a child whose brother
had just vanished and whose parents
offered no explanation, I think, Walter,
you could have been very stressed out,
even in your dreams.
Especially in your dreams.
You know,
it sounds to me like your parents placed
a heavy burden on you after Tommy died.
Did you ever feel that they
wanted you to fulfill his potential?
Nobody could ever fulfill Tommy's potential.
But I tried. I did try.
You, you, you are a very successful man.
Yeah, well, I'm ROTC from Penn State.
Tommy had an Ivy League scholarship.
Tommy would have cured cancer.
Do you think about Tommy a lot?
No. But actually, I've...
been thinking about what
it must have been like for my folks
when I was in Vietnam.
They'd already lost one and their only
spare was halfway around the world.
I must have put them through hell.
- Did they ever say anything to you about that?
- No, like I said, they...
uh, they didn't talk a lot
about their feelings.
Have you told your daughter
how worried you are for her?
Where's that coming from?
Well, Natalie is now also
halfway around the world.
Do you recall the word you used
when you were describing Tommy's death?
No. I'm sure you do.
You said he "disappeared". It's the same word
you used to talk about what you fear
may have happened to Natalie,
and also what happened to Bob.
Don't read too far into this.
That's a strange thing to say to a therapist.
Oh, come on, I'm joking.
Were you? Really?
It seems to me, this whole session,
Walter, any time I've tried to...
read into things or suggest
another way of looking at a problem,
- you, you've shut me down.
- It's not that.
It's just that if you're wrong, you're wrong.
- Am I supposed to worry about your feelings?
- No, of course not,
but I'm supposed to pay attention to yours,
and you've given me the strong sense,
I have to say,
that if I tell you something
you don't want to hear
you might very well just walk out of the room.
You mean, fire you.
Well, you're wrong about that, too.
Look, if you think I need to hear something,
just come on out and say it. I'm a big boy.
You think Bob the security guard
is my "rosebud"? Tell me how.
Actually, I think this precedes
Bob and Natalie.
Go on.
I don't think that you trust that...
people who leave you will ever come back.
Your brother never returned.
Your mother looking like
a different person.
Your father was never the same.
And nobody made sense
of it all for you, as a kid.
Perhaps you still fear that if someone...
disappears...
even momentarily, whether they're...
overseas or just out of touch for a few days,
that something horrible
must have happened to them.
Perhaps in certain situations,
Walter, you experience
a disproportionately stressful response.
So, if I'm understanding you,
all this started when
my daughter left for Rwanda.
It's an overreaction, like my wife's allergies.
Does, does that make sense to you?
Do you have some sort
of psychological antihistamine?
Do you mean a prescription?
I thought you said
you didn't want to take pills.
Yeah, well, maybe that was because
my doctor didn't have your diagnosis.
There is medication for panic attacks, Walter.
But I think...
it's really important that we continue
the work that we're beginning to do here.
Well... call my doctor.
Tell him what you think.
- I'll do that.
- Good.
Thanks, I appreciate it.
- Our time's up, isn't it?
- Yes, it is.
Oh, you can, you can pay me
at the end of the month, if you...
Well, if you don't mind,
one thing I learned from my father:
"Pay as you go." It's cleaner that way.
Maybe the medication will help.
Thank you.
Thank you.
- Good-bye.
- Good-bye, Walter.
Synchro: mpm, So
+ HQS edit
Old.
Hm-hmm.
Actually, Mom, Dad said he liked my hair.
Hm-hmm.
Yeah.
Anyway, Mom, I gotta go.
Dad's gonna make breakfast.
Yes, on the stove.
Okay, love you, too... Bye.
Where did she think I was gonna make
breakfast, in the washing machine?
She just assumed we'd go out.
Oh. Did you, did you want to go out?
I don't care.
I just don't want a
"Kramer vs. Kramer" moment, you know?
That happens to be
one of your mom's favorite movies.
And one of mine, incidentally.
- Well, that explains quite a bit.
- Yes, it does.
Paul Weston?
Sign here, please.
Sure.
What is it?
Okay, thanks.
From a law firm.
- It's nothing.
- What is it?
I mean... you're not being sued, are you?
By who?
Mom?
You know that's, that's all settled.
Then who? It's not one of your patients?
It is, isn't it?
You know I can't talk about stuff like that.
- Then who can you talk about it with?
- I have a lawyer.
You can't talk to a lawyer.
Rosie, it's under control.
Right. Because you always
control everything so well.
Is this what you wanted? I don't get it!
You know, it's like you're...
condemning yourself to a life of loneliness.
And for what, Dad? For patients
who sue you when you try to help them?
I mean, is this really how you
wanted everything to turn out?
It's gonna be fine, Rosie, really.
Please! You always say that.
You're just making shit up.
No, no, I already told you:
No more hugs. Not until you come home.
Rosie, you know that's not gonna happen.
You don't deserve it.
Nice turtle.
In Treatment, S02E09
Walter: Week Two
So, I'm sure this week you read up on me.
You mean, about your company?
I won't hold it against you.
We've got a target on our backs.
Moved off that business section you never read
into the front section.
Any day now there's going to be
a feeding frenzy.
Actually, I did read a few articles,
but mostly about the industry,
not specifically about you.
Fine, fellow, fine.
Connie thinks this reporter
at The Times has it in for me.
Do you think she's right?
Well, like you said, the whole industry
is reeling from this,
but, for some reason, Brenda Starr
over there has decided
to make me the poster child for the scandal.
It got so bad this week that Connie asked me
if I'd ever laid off the girl's father.
Do you agree with her
that this reporter is out to get you?
Those articles, they're not based on facts.
She's just listening to somebody.
I don't know who.
Some malcontent who has just enough
information to sound knowledgeable
and do serious damage.
So if I follow you, then,
this may not be a reporter's vendetta, but...
it could actually be the work
of somebody from inside the company.
Well, I didn't wanna think that,
but the Donaldsons, that's the family with
the majority stake, they're convinced of it.
Old man Donaldson said,
"Walter, we have a Judas in our midst".
That must be, uh... pretty disturbing...
not knowing who to trust
in the midst of a crisis.
Well, that's business.
But what's really disturbing
is for her to imply
that I would endanger the health
of children just to turn a profit.
I mean, that's completely irresponsible.
I'm a father, for Christ's sake.
Got a daughter who's probably
reading about this online.
Are you worried about how she might react?
No, no.
She knows who her old man is.
But -- I am worried that these articles
might be putting Natalie in jeopardy.
I'm not sure that I follow.
Well, God forbid,
they find out she's my daughter.
For all I know, they probably already have.
Maybe she's already disappeared.
Maybe they're stalling for time
while he decides
how much ransom he thinks he can ask for.
Do you think I sound crazy?
I think your anxiety
might be influencing your judgment.
Well, I'm not the only one.
Connie's allergies are acting up.
She's losing weight.
Or maybe she's worried for you.
Me? About what? My job?
No, that reporter from The Times
who's trying to get me fired,
she's the one who should be worried.
Or do I sound crazy?
Actually I think you sound, uh, quite confident,
for a man in the midst of a...
what did you call it, a "feeding frenzy"?
Yeah, well, there's a reason for that:
the Donaldsons.
I've worked for them for over 35 years.
I'm like a son to them.
Can I ask you what you're thinking about now?
That's right.
You're the fellow who wants me to say
whatever pops into my head.
I was just thinking, they had a son... James.
We were in the war together...
Army Corps of Engineers.
We tried to build bridges over there,
helping people who were taking shots at us.
When we got back to the States,
I got my degree and he
brought me into the company.
If I'd looked out for him as much over here
as we did for each other over there,
he might still be around.
What happened to him?
He drove too fast.
You see a family through a loss
like that and they're not gonna...
Ah, this crisis'll blow over, they always do.
I think I've talked enough.
Would you mind telling me
what you're thinking?
Well, just now I was struck
by the way you said that the, uh...
the crisis would blow over.
It reminded me of what you said
last week as, as you were leaving.
What did I say?
I asked you if you should call
your doctor, and you said it'll go away.
"It always goes away."
Yeah, last week.
Look, I think I also said I was sorry
if I... gave you a scare.
But... these things, they look
worse than they are.
And what are they, exactly?
Well, whatever they are,
they're not gonna kill me.
They're inconvenient, sure,
but... they go away.
And have you ever mentioned them to anyone?
I have a gold-plated executive health plan.
I don't really need it,
but the company insists on it.
If there's anything wrong,
they would have found out.
So you told your doctor
that you were having trouble sleeping,
but you didn't say anything
about the panic attacks.
They're not panic attacks.
And what makes you so sure?
They don't happen under stressful situations.
They happen at dinner sometimes, or a movie,
or, evidently, during a therapy session.
Have you had one since then?
Actually, I had one this week
in the elevator, of all places.
Would you care to tell me about that?
What do you want me to do,
describe the elevator for you?
Well, did anything unusual
happen that, that morning?
No.
Okay. Why, why don't you just describe then...
the details of that morning as you remember?
This is like the game my wife used to play
with our kids at the dinner table.
We'd ask them how school was,
they'd say, "Fine".
Asked them what happened -- "Nothing".
Finally my wife made them walk
through the day, step by step.
Is that really what you're looking for?
Humor me.
Okay. Got out of the town car,
went into the building,
met the new security guard,
showed him my passport,
went through the gates,
got on the elevator,
my heart started racing,
my throat closed up,
elevator doors opened,
went into my office.
This is about the time
that Natalie would usually say,
"Can I be excused now?"
Are you saying that you find
this exercise pointless?
Well, I don't mean to be
a doubting Thomas,
but I don't see anything that would have
caused a panic attack, do you?
You said there was a new security guard.
Yeah, a kid. What about him?
Anything unusual about, about that?
Did it upset you? Maybe, that you
had to show him your I.D.?
You don't know me at all.
I knew Bob for over 30 years,
and I always made a point
of showing him my I.D.
And, and what happened to Bob?
He died, according to the kid.
Uh, dropped dead of heart failure.
Disappeared.
Were you and Bob close?
I'd nod to him in the morning.
He'd say, "Hey, Mr. B.,
how about those Knicks?"
I'd say, "They're breaking my heart, Bob".
Just same conversation for 30 years.
It sounds like you two had a morning ritual.
Do you think that you miss him?
Bob?... No, Paul, I don't miss Bob.
I... I enjoyed our banter
and I feel sorry for his family, but...
he meant nothing to me.
I just wonder if there might be some
connection between Bob's death and...
your attack in the elevator, that's all.
I think you're grasping
for straws there, fella.
Okay.
Where did you go to school?
Here... in the city.
Are you worried
I'm not qualified to treat you?
It was just a question.
Anyway, it doesn't matter. Like I said,
I've had these since I was a kid.
I'm used to them.
From when you were a kid?
Really?
Off and on.
Well, do you remember how old you were
when you experienced your first one?
- Four or five, I guess.
- Four or five, that seems very young.
No, right...
Six.
I had to be six. I was already
sleeping in my brother's room.
Were you, were you close...
- with your brother?
- He died when I was a boy.
He drowned.
How, how did it happen?
Oh, well, this was in rural Pennsylvania.
It was an old limestone quarry lake.
A swimming hole, really.
40-foot cliffs.
It was a hot summer night.
And what age was he?
16.
Getting ready to go to college
in the fall... Yale.
He seemed kinda young for that, but...
he skipped a few grades.
All the brightest kids did back then.
But of all of them,
Tommy was the brightest.
You have no idea.
A real golden boy, valedictorian,
full scholarship.
Tommy walked on water.
How was it for you when he...
when he died?
Fine.
I don't even know if I really knew
what was going on. I was so young.
And your parents...
How did they, how did they grieve?
They didn't.
Well, of course they did.
I mean, they had to, but...
they shielded me from that.
But you, you knew something was going on?
All I know is that one day
Tommy just wasn't there, and...
I think I stayed with the neighbors
for a few nights, and then...
I went home.
My dad was sitting on the porch,
drinking his lager, waiting for me.
He walked me up to my brother's room.
All his stuff was still there.
Nothing changed.
My father said, "This is yours now.
"I just told your mother,
'Now I know why we had you'."
Then he turns around and leaves me there.
Or, at least, that's how I remember it.
It's a very, uh, that's a
very powerful memory.
Well, like I said, I was young.
I might have it wrong.
And when you tell it now to me,
what emotions does it,
does it bring up for you?
I just feel sorry for the old man.
Tommy was everything to him.
And your mother? How did she react?
Her hair turned white.
She had this gorgeous auburn hair.
And then, overnight,
she changed into an old woman.
I thought she was a changeling for a while,
that my real mother was...
trapped somewhere far away.
Walter, what...
what you're, what you're talking about...
describing, it's...
it's significant.
It must have been...
hard for you...
to cope with the loss of your brother
and your parents' grief.
Kids are resilient. They survive.
But you began to have these attacks
after you were sleeping in Tommy's room.
Yeah, I did. So, so what?
Like I said, they, they only
occurred while I was sleeping.
And... what were they like back then?
I'd wake up sweating and shaking.
- Did you ever tell your parents?
- No, they had enough on their minds.
And these, these panic attacks,
just like now, they would go away?
There you go again with this panic.
Haven't you been listening?
How could they be panic attacks?
They happened when I was asleep.
How stressed out could I have been?
As a child whose brother
had just vanished and whose parents
offered no explanation, I think, Walter,
you could have been very stressed out,
even in your dreams.
Especially in your dreams.
You know,
it sounds to me like your parents placed
a heavy burden on you after Tommy died.
Did you ever feel that they
wanted you to fulfill his potential?
Nobody could ever fulfill Tommy's potential.
But I tried. I did try.
You, you, you are a very successful man.
Yeah, well, I'm ROTC from Penn State.
Tommy had an Ivy League scholarship.
Tommy would have cured cancer.
Do you think about Tommy a lot?
No. But actually, I've...
been thinking about what
it must have been like for my folks
when I was in Vietnam.
They'd already lost one and their only
spare was halfway around the world.
I must have put them through hell.
- Did they ever say anything to you about that?
- No, like I said, they...
uh, they didn't talk a lot
about their feelings.
Have you told your daughter
how worried you are for her?
Where's that coming from?
Well, Natalie is now also
halfway around the world.
Do you recall the word you used
when you were describing Tommy's death?
No. I'm sure you do.
You said he "disappeared". It's the same word
you used to talk about what you fear
may have happened to Natalie,
and also what happened to Bob.
Don't read too far into this.
That's a strange thing to say to a therapist.
Oh, come on, I'm joking.
Were you? Really?
It seems to me, this whole session,
Walter, any time I've tried to...
read into things or suggest
another way of looking at a problem,
- you, you've shut me down.
- It's not that.
It's just that if you're wrong, you're wrong.
- Am I supposed to worry about your feelings?
- No, of course not,
but I'm supposed to pay attention to yours,
and you've given me the strong sense,
I have to say,
that if I tell you something
you don't want to hear
you might very well just walk out of the room.
You mean, fire you.
Well, you're wrong about that, too.
Look, if you think I need to hear something,
just come on out and say it. I'm a big boy.
You think Bob the security guard
is my "rosebud"? Tell me how.
Actually, I think this precedes
Bob and Natalie.
Go on.
I don't think that you trust that...
people who leave you will ever come back.
Your brother never returned.
Your mother looking like
a different person.
Your father was never the same.
And nobody made sense
of it all for you, as a kid.
Perhaps you still fear that if someone...
disappears...
even momentarily, whether they're...
overseas or just out of touch for a few days,
that something horrible
must have happened to them.
Perhaps in certain situations,
Walter, you experience
a disproportionately stressful response.
So, if I'm understanding you,
all this started when
my daughter left for Rwanda.
It's an overreaction, like my wife's allergies.
Does, does that make sense to you?
Do you have some sort
of psychological antihistamine?
Do you mean a prescription?
I thought you said
you didn't want to take pills.
Yeah, well, maybe that was because
my doctor didn't have your diagnosis.
There is medication for panic attacks, Walter.
But I think...
it's really important that we continue
the work that we're beginning to do here.
Well... call my doctor.
Tell him what you think.
- I'll do that.
- Good.
Thanks, I appreciate it.
- Our time's up, isn't it?
- Yes, it is.
Oh, you can, you can pay me
at the end of the month, if you...
Well, if you don't mind,
one thing I learned from my father:
"Pay as you go." It's cleaner that way.
Maybe the medication will help.
Thank you.
Thank you.
- Good-bye.
- Good-bye, Walter.
Synchro: mpm, So
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