Shattered Direction

SHATTERED DIRECTION

Los Angeles, California

Also by Edward A. Dreyfus

Fiction

Gag Rule (2016)

The Midnight Shrink (2015)

Buddies (2014)

Mickey and the Plow Horse (2014)

Nonfiction

Living Life from the Inside Out (2011)

Keeping Your Sanity (in an Insane World) (2003)

Someone Right for You (2003)

Adolescence: Theory and Experience (1976

Youth: Search for Meaning (1972)

SHATTERED DIRECTION

A Novel

Edward A. Dreyfus

Copyright © 2016 Edward A. Dreyfus

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

ISBN-13: 978-1530459216

ISBN-10: 1530459214

If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading. – Lao Tzu

I can't change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to always reach my destination. – Jimmy Dean

It's better to hang out with people better than you. Pick out associates whose behavior is better than yours and you'll drift in that direction. – Warren Buffett

You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes.

You can steer yourself in any direction you choose.

You're on your own, and you know what you know.

And you are the guy who'll decide where to go. – Dr. Seuss

AUTHOR’S NOTE

How often do we judge people by what they do for a living or for their lifestyle? We make snap judgments on the basis of a word: pornographer, prostitute, drug-addict. Or even lawyer, cop, shrink, truck driver, homosexual, politician. All of these words conjure images and generate characterizations of personalities. These characterizations color our perceptions.

In truth, few people actually fit the characterizations. We seldom know the true story of how these people arrived at their position in life. Many people arrive at a place in life through choice, while others reach their place through circumstance or as a consequence of events. A homeless person, for example, rarely chooses to be homeless. Many people have dreams; few people are able to realize their dreams.

Rarely do we know the person behind the job they fulfill. Do you know the person who is your server in a restaurant or your physician? For the most part, the actual person is invisible and we relate to the depiction and our distorted perceptions.

As a practicing psychologist I am privileged to get to know the person behind the mask. I follow them on a journey of self-discovery and in the process I learn how they arrived at any given point in their life. Most people find themselves seeking my because of a series of small decisions that in the aggregate took them way off course.

I dedicate this book to the countless people out there who feel invisible and who are never truly seen; they all have a story to tell. Through my books I hope to make some of these people visible.

Though based on a truth, what you are about to read is fiction.

Edward A. Dreyfus, Ph.D.

Los Angeles

1

Present

Dr. Edward Albertson, a practicing clinical psychologist in Santa Monica, California, sat in his sunny, book-lined office reading an essay on the history and evolution of pornography in the U. S. and the affect of the internet on the industry. Albertson recalled the days when people would have to go into a back room of a video store to find the adult movies section where one could rent VHS XXX-rated tapes. He recalled when adult magazines such as Playboy, Penthouse, and Hustler were sold encased in brown paper wrappers. But today, with the flick of a mouse, a viewer could choose from a buffet of every aspect of porn without having to leave home.

Pornography has become mainstream, thought Albertson. It can be watched on high definition television screens, computer monitors, as well as handheld devices. Porn has become so popular and so much a part of American culture that Playboy magazine, the gold standard for the industry, recently decided to remove nudity from its pages, except for the iconic centerfold.

The essay Albertson was reading described the plight of young wannabe actresses who, seeking fame and fortune, came to Hollywood with dreams of being the next film star. They all wanted to be discovered. Finding stardom elusive, they were seduced with promises of fame used by the producers of pornography. They were told that porn was a stepping-stone to the gates of Warner Brothers, 20th Century Fox, Lionsgate, and other Hollywood studios. In the process they were often introduced to illicit drugs by film directors and co-stars, under the guise that the drugs would enhance their performance on screen. The article called this process a form of slave-trade.

Sadly, many of these young women became addicts, and once addicted to drugs, they found it difficult, if not impossible, to get out of the business. In all of these stories the young girls were portrayed as innocents while the producers and directors of pornography were depicted as sleazy, garish, and manipulative individuals without morals or scruples. All of the behind-the-lens people were characterized as evil while the actors in front of the lens, especially the women, were described as victims.

As Dr. Albertson read the essay, he found himself becoming increasingly irritated. He knew first hand that the depiction of the girls as victims and the producers and directors as predators was not entirely true. He knew that many of the women who got into pornography, like many women who chose prostitution as a career, were not helpless victims. Rather, many of them were astute businesswomen who saw both pornography and prostitution as viable options for earning a living – and in many instances, a substantial one at that.

Just as the women were invariably portrayed as victims, the men behind the lens – the producers, directors, cameramen – were regularly characterized as perpetrators and predators. Albertson reflected on the fact that whether the topic was domestic violence or pornography, women were seen as helpless. People did not want to believe that a woman would choose to be in porn or prostitution if they could choose something else. And no one wanted to believe that a woman could abuse a man, even if she was a professional kick-boxer.

Dr. Albertson knew differently. He had treated many educated women, some with MBAs from prestigious schools, who made the decision to become entrepreneurs in the world of prostitution, earning more than lawyers or physicians. Just as men went into boxing and used their body and physical prowess to earn a living, so did women choose prostitution. Albertson knew that it was difficult for people to accept that women chose to sell their sexual favors – except as a last resort. The Victorian Era lived on in people’s minds.

He also had treated many men who were abused by their wives but were afraid to report their abuse to the authorities. It irritated him when people made gross generalizations without evidence to support their biases. People wouldn’t accept the idea that a woman could and would abuse a man.

He sat back in his easy chair and recalled a former patient named Harry Moreland whom he had treated back in the early 1980s. He remembered Harry quite well, even after so many years. Some patients left an indelible impression. Harry was one of them. Albertson even recalled the course of treatment as though it was a movie running in his brain.

Twenty-six year old Harry was below average in height, slight in build, blond, and handsome with perfect features and clear blue eyes. However, when Dr. Albertson first met him, he appeared gaunt, fidgety, and had difficulty maintaining eye contact. He seemed deeply troubled. Albertson recognized the signs of someone who partied hard. Harry had the cocaine sniffles and the red-rimmed eyes of a drunk.

During that first session, Harry looked around the office as though assessing the occupant through its furnishings. His eyes darted from the leather couch to the bookcases to the boxes of tissues that sat on the end tables. He glanced at the pictures on the walls and some of the antiques and other artifacts. Eventually he sat down across from Dr. Albertson. He stared at the carpet and occasionally at Albertson.

Dr. Albertson was dressed in customary jeans and sweater. He sat with his legs crossed, his fingertips touching just under his short-cropped bearded chin. How can be of help? he asked.

I don’t know. My life is a mess. I don’t know where to begin, said Harry. He spoke softly, almost as though he was talking to himself. He rubbed his face with both hands and then rubbed his neck.

It really doesn’t matter where you start, replied Albertson. Therapy is like putting together a giant jigsaw puzzle without the aid of a box top. And we don’t know how many pieces – many may be lost or buried.

I’m here to try to find what little redemption that I may have left, said Harry, looking directly at Dr. Albertson for the first time with his penetrating blue eyes. Then his head dropped again. Some people tell me I’m a genius. I love movies. I know all the stars, both old and new. I read all of the reviews. Unlike most of my friends, I can name every single director; I studied their style, their approach to filmmaking, and how they envisioned a project. I even know most of their bios by heart; where they grew up, went to school, their favorite movies and whom they studied under. I majored in film and photography at Ohio State University.

You sound very intelligent. I can’t speak to the genius part, however. Do you believe what people say?

I say I’m a fraud. Again the penetrating blue eyes fixed on Albertson’s. Harry then looked off into the distance, silent. Three years in California and here I am in a shrink’s office. Not what I expected.

As Harry began to tell his story, a portrait emerged of a sensitive, intense, introspective young man who needed drugs and alcohol in order to defend himself against the incredible pain of realizing that his dreams of being a director of meaningful films were shattered. He realized that he was nothing more than a pornographer and this fact was crushing for Harry. He was raised with traditional values and had a social conscience, but the pull of the high life had been too great. He was sucked into a world from which he knew he had to extricate himself. But he wasn’t sure he had the courage or intestinal fortitude to do so…at least not without help.

As Albertson listened, he realized that this was only the bare outline of the whole story.

2

Six years previously, Harry and fifty other college students at Ohio State University sat in a screening room and watched a documentary film on prostitution and the slave trade in the U.S. Harry’s girlfriend, Rachel Hargrove, a cute, longhaired brunette with bangs, sat next to him. When the film ended the audience burst into applause, the lights went on, and Professor Marcus Ormund, a rotund man with a bushy graying beard and John Lennon glasses, stepped to the front of the room.

"This film received the School of Film and Photography’s best documentary award for a film produced and directed by a graduating senior. Harry Moreland, would you please join me up here so you can answer a few questions on your award-winning documentary, Shattered Direction?"

Harry looked a bit nervous as he slowly made his way to the front of the room. He took the microphone and held it as though he needed something to keep him upright. A woman in the back of the room raised her hand. Harry pointed to her.

Mr. Moreland, what made you want to film this documentary?

Harry looked at the floor as if hoping to find a good answer lying there. Gradually he found his voice. I wanted to make this documentary because I feel that movies about social injustice are too often pushed into the background and replaced with movies about materialism and fluff. I know I am just one voice. But if I create significant and meaningful movies, I think others will not only applaud me but will join me, and together our voices will become stronger. The film industry can be a powerful voice for social change.

But why this subject? asked another member of the audience.

By now Harry had become passionate. These young girls and women have no voice. Their plight goes unnoticed. They, like so many other people, are relegated to the fringe of society. They are unseen and unheard. I wanted to give them a voice. I wanted to make them visible.

A young man asked, Have you ever personally known anyone in prostitution or human trafficking?

Harry felt a little more confident with each question. He had found his rhythm.

Other than the people I met while shooting the film, I can’t say that I have actually personally known anyone that was involved in it, but I know that when I walk down the street every day, somewhere around me is a victim of this horrible lifestyle. And just because I don’t know them or may not be able to see them, I didn’t want that to stop me from telling their story. Their story is one that needs to be told. And if I don’t tell their story, who will?

The audience gave Harry a standing ovation. A few people walked over to shake his hand. Rachel stood to the side, bursting with pride. She eventually walked over to him and slid her arm around his waist. Professor Ormund put his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Well done, Harry. You have a bright future in film ahead of you, son. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a documentary that was able to capture the essence of the human spirit. You’re a gentle soul with not only talent as a photographer, but also a good eye as a filmmaker. It’s been a pleasure having you as a student. I look forward to hearing great things from you in the future. And if you ever need a letter of recommendation, you know where to find me.

Harry smiled with appreciation. Thank you, professor.

Professor Ormund looked at Rachel, who was beaming with pride. And who do we have here, Harry?

This is my girlfriend, Rachel Hargrove.

Pleased to meet you, Rachel, said Professor Ormund, shaking her hand.

Harry and I have been dating for the past four years and I can’t tell you how proud of him I am. I was the one who encouraged him to major in film and photography here at Ohio State University.

Looks like you’ve got a keeper here, Harry, said the professor with a twinkle in his eyes. Settle down with this one and have lots of babies. It’s always good to have a supportive woman by your side."

Rachel clutched Harry’s arm and was all smiles. Harry felt a little uneasy. The professor bid them farewell and left.

Another student approached Harry just as he and Rachel were about to leave the auditorium.

Excuse me, said the young woman. What inspired the title, Shattered Direction, Harry?

Harry smiled, nodding his head. Each of the women in the film had hopes and dreams in their life. The prostitutes had their own plans for the future. The girls sold into the sex trade also had hopes. All their well-intentioned directions for their future were shattered when they lost control of their life. When they lose hope, they fall into despair. And then it’s just a matter of survival, one day at a time, with no direction.

On hearing this portion of Harry’s story, Dr. Albertson smiled and said, An award-winning documentary on prostitution and sex trafficking, and only twenty years old? Maybe you are the genius that people have said you were.

I wanted to be a filmmaker who made meaningful movies, said Harry, looking off into the distance. I wanted to make a difference. Despite my rough childhood, I still thought I could change the world. I was so naive. Harry shook his head, grimacing in self-disgust.

You seem to be very hard on yourself, Harry. Let’s hear the rest. Tell me about your rough childhood.

3

Twenty-six years previous, Martha Moreland was pregnant with her second child. She already had a three-year old little boy named Bobby. The family lived in a small apartment supplied to officers and their families. Captain William Moreland was a career military man who moved his family around the world whenever he was ordered to a new Army base. They had just been relocated from Germany to Idaho. He did not know for how long. Sometimes it could be as little as a few