Michael told Bo that there was no way he was going to watch a film set in a burn unit because every morning he opened his eyes and found his room on fire. That was when he explained about his schizophrenia. Every morning, he told Bo, he lay in bed paralyzed with fear until his father called and told him the flames weren’t real. His father didn’t just tell him; he proved it. Ordering Michael to put out a hand and touch the fire, he asked him what he felt.
“Does it burn?” his father asked. “Does it burn? No? Good!”
Then he ordered Michael to do the same with his other hand. Again, the call-and-response: “Is it hot? Does it burn? Does it burn?” When Michael admitted it did not, his father told him, “That’s because it isn’t real.” He got him to sit up and put one foot on the floor. Never mind the flame. Even if he had to lift his leg with both hands and force it down, he had to put his foot on the floor, then tell Chuck if the floor was hot. “Is it hot? That’s right. Now the other foot!”
Michael slipped into his father’s voice to tell the story, putting on the bullying Brooklyn accent like a bomber jacket, adding dramatic urgency and with it that suggestion of mastery that comes with a performance, even if he was performing a terrible reality that tyrannized him.
The Best Minds: A Story of Friendship, Madness, and the Tragedy of Good Intentions
Jonathan Rosen