Aphrodite's Workshop for Reluctant Lovers (13 page)

John sighed. Of course it's different when the pain's your own.

The new therapist, Angie Bliss, was running late. Rupert never ran late. As John waited, leafing through the
Standard
, he was already regretting having come. Apart from the fact that he could ill afford the time, he was annoyed at having to see someone new. It had taken him months to get on top of the sessions with Rupert.

Melanie, when he mentioned this, had turned on him, exasperated.

‘You're not supposed to be
on top
of it. That's the point: for once you're supposed
not
to be in control. God, you're such a
freak!

So he waited.

Finally the door to the consulting room opened and a man about John's own age appeared. His face bore a glazed look making John wonder if he was on some kind of medication. He had little sympathy with the mentally afflicted. That, at least, was normal, he thought, not nice but normal; you most dislike the flaw in others that you recognise in yourself.

The new therapist appeared. Her voice as she called his name was melodious with a slight, untraceable accent. He got to his feet, looking pointedly at his watch, but the therapist did not seem to notice.

Angie Bliss wore glasses, heavy-framed and rectangular, which made John think of Clark Kent. Her fair hair was scraped back in a ponytail and she wore no make-up.

He followed her into the room.

‘You've redecorated?'

Rupert's warm sunshine-yellow had been substituted for a bright Aegean-blue, the chairs were reupholstered in jade-green and a vase of red roses was placed on the desk next to a large bowl of fragrant apples.

The therapist looked around her with faint surprise.

‘Have I?'

‘Someone has,' John said. The woman was a complete space cadet.

Angie Bliss had seated herself on the desk chair rather than the armchair Rupert Daly had favoured. She glanced at some papers in front of her then swivelled round to face him.

‘Do you not think it's time you stopped flitting from relationship to relationship?'

John had been sitting back, practising his courtroom faces, currently exaggerated attentiveness with one eyebrow raised. He had been about to change to ill-concealed boredom with stifled yawn but instead he sat forward in the chair, his jaw dropping in surprise.

The therapist continued.

‘You're forty-three years old. Aren't you risking becoming an object of ridicule, as well as setting a very poor example for your children?'

John, still taken aback by the turn the session was taking, could only retort with a, ‘Child. One. Daughter,' while casting a meaningful glance at the open folder in front of her, which he assumed contained his notes and therefore all the relevant information as to family status, number of children etc. But he was wasting meaningful glances.

‘Whatever,' she said, inspecting her shell-pink nails. What she saw seemed to please her. She brought her attention back
to John. Crossing one sleek bare leg over the other, she asked, ‘Is it sexual, your problem?'

He raised an eyebrow to feign incredulity but this had no effect other than to make the therapist ask her question again.

This time he replied with a simple, ‘No.'

‘Well, that
is
good.' She seemed relieved. ‘So what is it, do you think?'

‘I don't think that I have such a lot of problems, actually, other than the OCD, which, as I'm sure my notes say, could be worked on further and my handling of it improved. And I believe Melanie and I are getting back on track.'

‘It won't last.'

‘Excuse me?'

‘I said it won't last. You'll be at each other's throats again before you can say break-up. She'll be weeping or threatening or both. You'll be alternately defensive and apologetic then cold and sarcastic. It's going to end so why not save time and further misery by getting on with it?'

‘Did Rupert tell you all of that?'

‘Rupert? Oh Rupert. No. Yes.'

‘I wasn't aware I had put things in that way.'

‘Well, there you are.'

‘Anyway,' John said, ‘the sessions with Rupert had moved on – I'm sure that's in my notes too. We were dealing mainly with my OCD.' He paused.

‘And you think your OCE –'

‘D. It's OCD. I presume you are familiar with the condition?'

Angie Bliss gave a little laugh, high and clear.

‘Of course I am. But I would like to hear how you experience it. So why do you think your DCT is affecting your ability to maintain a decent long-term relationship?'

‘OCD. You are trained in that area, are you not?'

‘Of course I am. Would you like to see my diplomas?'

On receiving the letter from Rupert Daly, John had spoken briefly to him and Rupert had told him, ‘Don't be fooled by first impressions. She might come across as a bit ditzy but trust me: her qualifications are amongst the most impressive I've ever seen.'

John was no stranger to the unorthodoxy in his own work. It could be that Angie Bliss's apparent flakiness was actually part of a deliberate strategy. He decided to relax and go with her for the rest of the session.

The therapist was engrossed in reading what he assumed were his notes. It was all very well to trust her but surely she should have been better prepared? To him, not to be prepared was the worst kind of professional solecism.

‘You are familiar with OCD?' he asked again.

Angie Bliss swivelled back round.

‘Of course I am familiar with it. After all, is it not elementary in today's thinking on these matters?'

He was about to ask, ‘Which matters, exactly?' but he could hear Melanie's voice in his head. ‘For God's sake, you're not in court now.'

Angie Bliss continued.

‘
Obsessive-compulsive disorder
' – There followed the briefest of pauses, as, looking pleased with herself, she cocked her head to one side as if she were listening for something, applause, perhaps? – ‘and the way it affects your relationships is, however, something that I need to approach in my own way.' She relaxed back in the chair, kicking off her gold ballerina shoes.

‘As I told Rupert, I don't involve my partner in my
problems. If I have difficulties maintaining relationships it's not because of the OCD.'

The therapist was smiling at him in the manner of a fond mother watching her child playing make-believe and, disconcerted, he continued, ‘I might be a little more tense because of it and that perhaps has a kick-back effect on my behaviour and I suppose one of the ways I deal with it is to keep busy, to work hard and not waste time. But all those things fall within the boundaries of normal …'

‘I can't believe you have any difficulties picking up women.'

‘What? No. Not as a rule.'

‘So it's keeping them that's the problem?'

‘No. No, I don't think it is, not in that way. As it happens I tend to be the one who leaves.'

The therapist clapped her slender pale hands together.

‘Well, aren't we a big clever boy.'

At this point he laughed, he couldn't help it. He decided that Angie Bliss was really rather attractive although not his type; he preferred the more athletic, gamine look to the therapist's voluptuous, Pre-Raphaelite one. Again, he heard Melanie taking him to task, for being sexist, lookist and probably patronising.

‘One thing leads to another and all roads, in the end, lead to the same place,' the therapist said. ‘Now, wouldn't you like to find your soul-mate and settle down?'

‘Of course I would.'

‘Tell me what you are looking for.'

John leant back in his chair, a small smile softening his square jaw.

‘Someone who is a true partner, someone who understands what I'm trying to do and who would support me in reaching
my goals. Someone who had her own goals and dreams and who would appreciate
my
support in that same way. Someone to share it all with, the rewards and the struggles.' He stopped, surprised at how much he had ended up saying.

‘And this Melanie isn't her, now is she?'

With a slight sigh he said, ‘I thought she might have been.'

‘But now you know better?'

He raised his chin.

‘Not necessarily.'

‘Fine. You're in denial. We can work with that.' She paused and giggled behind a slender hand. ‘De-nial is a river in Egypt.'

He looked at her.

‘Oh. Right. Yes.' He laughed politely.

‘Does she need to be beautiful, this woman, your ideal?' the therapist asked in the alert yet efficient voice of a shop assistant offering to pick out your perfect suit.

‘Beautiful? No, not really. It would be nice if she was good-looking, obviously. And I think enthusiasm is vital, passion – for something; it almost doesn't matter what. I don't like blasé or passivity. I like women who are self-sufficient, who don't wait for me to make all the decisions. Someone who likes challenges and won't stagnate.' He paused to find Angie Bliss smiling and nodding her approval. Next she'll stick a gold star next to my notes, he thought, not displeased. Melanie called him a try-hard. She was right, as it happened.

‘So, if we find you such a woman then you might do better?'

‘I was not aware that I had signed up to a dating agency. Anyway, I am still in a relationship.'

‘OK, OK.' The therapist raised both hands in the air. ‘But basically you don't want to face up to the gaping void in your life so you're here fussing about this O … OCD.'

‘I'm fussing over it, as you call it, because I was encouraged to do so by your predecessor and because it's a pain, a real pain. I don't need the distraction. What I do need is to find a way of being able to give one hundred per cent to whatever I'm doing without these ridiculous, I mean really
ridiculous
, thoughts.'

‘But there's no problem sexually?'

‘No, I've told you that already.' He forgot about feeling awkward as he gazed into her eyes that were the turquoise of a Caribbean sea. He said, hesitating at first, ‘At least, there never used to be a problem but I suppose that lately … well, it could be better. I just put it down to the other problems we're having at the moment. I'm pretty confident that it's not a, well a … medical problem.'

‘Now that
is
a relief, isn't it? Again I'm sure' – she paused and looked him up and down – ‘I'm sure,' she said again, ‘that you will have no problems once you're with the right woman. Now, let's see … yes, your mother: would you say she was possessive when you grew up and that this might have something to do with your problems in forming intimate, long-lasting relationships?'

‘I suppose she was a bit possessive, yes, but that's understandable as it was just the two of us. My father left before I was born. He died not long afterwards. Anyway, I got the impression from Rupert that the key to OCD lies in the simple fact of brain chemistry rather than in childhood experiences and such things. He did mention Prozac or some other SSRI.'

Angie Bliss's eyes turned the colour of thunder clouds.

‘Well, if you know so much about it why are you here seeing me? And I certainly would not recommend Prozac.
Have you not heard about the side-effects? Reduction of sex drive, inability to climax. Would you like to add those to your list of problems?' Then she smiled again and her amazing eyes softened to dove-grey. ‘I'm not saying that Rupert is wrong, only that opinion is divided. I would say that the very latest findings suggest that…' She frowned and seemed to search for a word. ‘Yes, that regression therapy can be helpful... in some cases. That means we delve into your past –'

‘– Subconscious,' John filled in. He had to remind himself again that the woman sitting opposite him was a renowned expert in her field.

‘But first we'll just regress via your conscious,' Angie Bliss said and there was renewed authority in her voice. ‘Now, your childhood.'

‘My childhood,' John Sterling said. ‘There's nothing much to tell. Nothing I haven't been through with Rupert already.'

Angie Bliss frowned.

‘Well, I want to hear it for myself. And don't roll your eyes. How old are you, twelve?'

John pulled a face.

‘There's honestly not much to tell. I was born, on time more or less, so I believe, healthy and wanted.'

‘Your father didn't want you.'

John's amiable smile remained in place but his voice was icy.

‘What makes you say that?'

‘He left before you were born. I would say that was a fair indication that he was not very keen on the idea of you.'

John coloured slightly but his voice was as controlled as ever when he replied, ‘All right, so maybe I was wanted by one instead of the more customary two parents. And yes, there
was a time that this bothered me. But I was fortunate in other things so in the end it seemed like rather a petty concern. Then again, we humans distinguish ourselves by our petty concerns, don't you agree, whereas the other animals confine their fretting to the real stuff: how to get fed, how to get laid, how to stay alive.' He paused and looked at his watch. ‘Oh dear, my hour is up.'

‘That's all right. No hurry.'

But John was already on his way to the door.

‘I'm sure you have other people to see?'

‘So I do.' Angie Bliss swivelled the chair round so that her back was turned. ‘I've got you down for the same time next week.'

John was about to make some excuse but as he met the therapist's azure gaze he found himself nodding and saying, ‘Yes, absolutely.'

On his way out, a good-looking young boy standing by the water cooler stopped him and asked in a faint American accent, ‘She free?'

John nodded.

‘Is she any good?'

‘I can't really tell.'