“Of all the wonders that I have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.”
( Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene 2, lines 1010-1013)
 William Shakespeare

Robert settled down into the overstuffed ottoman, smiled and said, “Well, if this is Tuesday, you must be the shrink, and I must be in session.”

“Right on all three counts, Robert,” Dr. Yitzak replied. Of all the patients he saw he had a certain fondness for Robert. Robert was easy going, easy to listen to, and easy to talk with. After dealing with people who saw things that weren’t there, had delusions about being Jesus, or were so zoned out on their meds that all they could do was stare at you, Robert was easy work, a pleasant break, for Dr. Yitzak.

As the psychiatrist thumbed through his notes Robert got up and looked out the window, past the wired glass panes and bars, to a nearby dogwood tree that was just past full bloom. Dr. Yitzak closed his notepad and watched Robert. “What do you see, Robert?” he asked.

“Fragile. The flowers are so fragile, so temporary, so…I think the word is - transcendent,” Robert quietly answered.

“Transcendent in a religious or philosophical context?”

“I dunno,” Robert laughed. “What is this – some kind of Rorschach test?”

“No, I was honestly curious as to how you meant that,” Dr. Yitzak replied. He paused, considering his next words. “Are the flowers transcendent in a religious context, such as being independent of the material universe? Or transcendental, in that they transcend human knowledge?”

“Damned if I know,” chuckled Robert. “I just meant that…it makes me … quiet inside…when I think of how something so beautiful is gone so quickly.”

“Does the fact that life is temporary…transient, upset you or weigh upon you?”  

“Nope. Insha’Allah, doc. Insha’Allah.”

“You’ve used that phrase, “quiet inside,” before in our sessions. Do you remember when you first used those words?” Dr. Yitzak asked flipping through his notebook. He made a note of Robert using the phrase “Insha’Allah.”

Robert turned from the window and sat back down. “Yeah,” he answered; his voice sounded tired.

“When did you first feel “quiet inside,” Robert?” Dr. Yitzak asked sitting down across from Robert. “Could we talk about that?” Robert nodded his head.

“Again?” Robert asked, so softly that at first Dr. Yitzak wasn’t sure if he had responded.

“Yes, if you feel up to it. If you don’t mind.” When Robert just sat, saying nothing, Dr. Yitzak prompted, “It was in Sokur, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, Sokur. We had helped them build a school for girls inside the parameter…you know this story better than I do; why do I have to go over this crap again?”

“I just want to understand, Robert,” Dr. Yitzak said earnestly. “I think it’ll help me understand the other things.” Robert sat, staring, not speaking. “It was a girl’s school, right?”

“Yeah. Over there the girls aren’t allowed to go to school. Outside the parameter some three-cups-of-tea group had tried to build one. They stopped.”

“See, Robert,” Dr. Yitzak said encouragingly, taking notes, “You’ve never told me that before. Go on. Why did they stop?”

“Acid. Some mullah outside of Tikrit told the local crazies to throw acid in the girls’ faces as they came out of school.” Robert stopped and Dr. Yitzak just waited, patiently, quietly, until he started to talk again. “Yeah, so we decided to build one inside the protected area. Used local contractors and stuff; it was a good thing, a big deal.”

“And then…” Dr. Yitzak prompted.

“Then on opening day – these girls had all picked flowers, Rose of Jericho is what I think we called ‘em… small, white, delicate petals. There was a big ceremony as the girls – they were between five and fifteen years old. Laughing, smiling, singing…” Robert’s voice trailed off and he sat in silence for a few minutes. “They waited until they were all inside…and then the whole frigging place just exploded. Seems that mullah had some boys among the contractors; they had wired explosives into the building…right under our noses.”

“So, Robert, when did you feel the “quiet inside” that you talk about?” Dr. Yitzak asked.

“Her name was Na’imah, it means…meant, “comfort or tranquility.” A piece of shrapnel had pierced her artery and she was bleeding out fast. I was holding her, desperately trying to stop the bleeding, and she gently took my hand, and removed it from the wound, gave me her flowers, and said, “Insha’Allah.” She died there, in my arms. That was when I felt the quiet inside. It was like something died in me.”

Dr. Yitzak leaned forward, carefully trying to frame his next question. Robert had never opened up this much before. “What died, Robert? What made the “quiet” inside?”

The room was quiet as both men sat, waiting for the answer. You could hear the soft hiss of filtered air from the ventilation, the sound of telephones ringing down the hall, and the muffled conversations of orderlies behind the door. Robert got up and walked to the window and looked at the dogwood. A gentle breeze was gently shaking some of the flowers loose, like a soft rain of pink petals.

Robert answered Dr. Yitzak, “Fear died, doc. I was no longer afraid of death.”

“Go on.”

“Well, I guess one common fear we all got is that we’re all afraid to die. But everybody’s gotta die. Everything comes to an end. So why live your life being afraid of something you can’t stop, can’t control, can’t avoid? That day I looked at Death and said, “Screw you” and got on with my life.”

Dr. Yitzak flipped back in his paperwork and asked, “So is that what motivated your actions later?”

“I dunno. We were all told to ‘seek counseling’ so I went to the local chaplain. He was kinda rushed, all he talked about was, “knowing Jesus as your personal Savior,” and gave me a Bible. I didn’t get a follow up with him – he was killed the next day by an IED.” Robert looked at Dr. Yitzak and asked, “You ever read Galatians, doc?”

“Sorry, no. I’m Jewish. What did you read in Galatians?”

“A man’s gonna reap what he sows.”

“Ah.” Silence for a few moments. “Is that what happened to the mullah?”

“Local intel had reliable information that the mullah who had ordered the attack lived in a small enclave, right outside of Tikrit. So, a few weeks later, I loaded up some…things, went and paid him a visit. I honestly don’t remember much after that.”

Dr. Yitzak thought about the information in his jacket on Robert. Robert had singlehandedly killed seven members of the mullah’s group. Investigators think he eviscerated most of them while wounded and alive; the mullah had definitely been beheaded alive. Since being arrested Robert had attempted suicide three times. Dr. Yitzak looked up from his notes and stared at the stitches on Robert’s wrists. Robert caught Yitzak’s gaze and asked, “You wanna know why, dontcha, doc?”

“Yes. Please.”

“That Bible had other verses in it. ‘The last enemy to be defeated will be death.’ My battle’s over, doc. I just ain’t afraid no more.”  

The door opened; too soon for Dr. Yitzak. Had the hour gone by already? The orderlies came in and secured the straight jacket and leg-cuffs on Robert.

“Next week, doc.”

“Lekh beshalom, my friend,” Dr. Yitzak replied as the door closed.