What Looks Like Crazy (9 page)

She looked alarmed. “And say what?”

“Tell him how you feel. How you've felt for most of your life,” I added.

She nodded thoughtfully. She started to get up. “Um, I was wondering—” She sniffed. “I saw the coupon in the newspaper for the free manicure. Is that for new patients only? I could really use a good manicure.”

 

“Jay called,” Mona
said after I'd seen my last patient of the day, “and your mom called twice. She wants to throw a party for you and Jay, now that the two of you are back together.”

“Jay and I aren't back together!”

“Oh, so I'm supposed to tell your mother you were just using him for sex?”

It figured that my mother would want to know what was going on after seeing Jay and me leave the party together. “I
wasn't
using him for sex,” I said.

“Oh.” Mona paused. “So what
were
you doing?”

“How the hell do I know what I was doing?” I said.

“Isn't that sort of your specialty? To know why people do the things they do?” she added.

“I can't be my own therapist!” I went inside my office and closed the door. I sat at my desk and counted my pens. Mona knocked. I didn't say anything. She opened the door anyway.

“Boy, are you in denial,” she said.

“I'm not in denial.”

“You need to talk to Bubba-Bear.”

“Do not pull out that bear!” I said when Mona made a move to grab him.

“Admit it, then. You're in denial.”

“I'm not!”

She looked thoughtful. “Then are you disassociating?”

“What?”

“I heard Dr. Phil use that word.”

“You need to stop taping his show, and no, I'm not disassociating.”

“Would you know it if you were?” she asked. “Or would it take another therapist to tell you?”

“Maybe I'm just having a bad day because I didn't get much sleep last night, and I lost my underwear. How would you like it if you had to come to work without underwear?”

It was then that I noticed Nancy, the manicurist, standing in the doorway, her mouth agape.

“I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving for the day,” she said, “and to tell you that the lady with the fat lips really enjoyed having her nails done. I'm going to give her a pedicure on Friday.”

Mona looked annoyed. “That's supposed to be for new patients only, Kate.”

“Yeah, but I'm the boss,” I said, “and if Cynthia wants a pedicure on Friday, then she gets one.”

Nancy mumbled something and hurried out.

“Fine,” Mona said, getting testy. “We'll give everybody a free manicure. We'll have free manicures on Open House Day, how's that? We'll even offer them during the mental health fair.”

I just looked at her. Some months back, Mona had come up with the idea to hold a mental health fair, despite my many attempts to discourage her. Just thinking what she might do filled me with a sense of dread. “I don't want a mental health fair.”

“It'll be good for you. It'll take your mind off you-know-who.”

Mona had chosen to have the fair on the same Friday that my divorce was to become final. “Where are you going to hold a fair, Mona? In the parking lot?”

“Yes, and I've already made it okay with many of the building tenants and asked them to pass the word.”

“It's going to be very inconvenient for a lot of people.”

“They'll get over it once they see all the free food and drinks, not to mention a live band. And just think, by the time it's over, everybody will know who you are.”

That's what I was afraid of.

“Like I said before, Kate, you're going to have to trust me. I've got your career all mapped out. One day you'll thank me.”

I wondered what it would be like to have a normal family and a normal best friend. I heard the door to the reception room open, and a moment later a gorgeous hunk of a man stood in my doorway. He was young, with longish blond hair, and looked as though he belonged on the cover of
GQ
. I hoped he was a new patient who would take years to heal.

“Liam, what a surprise!” Mona said, giving him a huge smile.

I tried to hide my disappointment.

“I came by to invite you to dinner,” he said.

“Oh, that's so sweet.” Mona introduced us.

He smiled, hurried to my desk, and reached across to shake my hand. “You're really young to be a psychologist,” he said.

He flashed me the dimples Mona had mentioned so many times. Now I understood why she couldn't bear the thought of getting naked in front of him. “I'm the same age as Mona,” I said for lack of anything more interesting to say.

“You're only twenty-eight, and you already have your own practice” he said. “That's impressive.”

I looked at Mona, who cut her eyes at me. “Well, you kids enjoy your evening,” I said. They started out the door. “And, Mona?” She paused and stuck her head through the doorway. “Don't stay out past your curfew.”

 

With my list
of wholesome foods in hand, I drove to the grocery store and loaded my cart with fresh fruits and vegetables: cauliflower, broccoli, baby carrots, nice purplish asparagus spears that were ridiculously overpriced, and plump ripe tomatoes. I added bananas, a container of giant strawberries, Red Delicious apples, and a plastic bag filled with seedless grapes.

I found a box of cereal that promised to lower my cholesterol, prevent heart disease and cancer, and provide me with enough nutrients that I would never again have to worry about taking my multivitamin tablet before I left for the office.

At the meat counter, I turned my nose up at the steaks and tossed in a pack of boneless, skinless chicken breasts.

I bought skim milk, whole wheat bread, and olive oil that wore a seal of approval from the American Heart Association. I figured that at this rate, I was going to live until age 110.

I headed toward the front of the store to check out and skidded to a dead halt when I saw the “buy one, get one free” offer for Ben & Jerry's ice cream. I gave myself a mental smack on the forehead. What was I thinking!

It hadn't occurred to me that the healthy new diet and lifestyle I'd planned might be a little extreme. Extremes don't work, especially when it comes to diet and exercise. You can have the best intentions, but if you're not at all flexible, you can sabotage your best efforts and set yourself up for one huge failure. Which leads only to low self-esteem, of course, and maybe even an eating disorder, I reminded myself.

There are times when it helps to be an expert in human behavior. I promptly turned my cart around and headed for the freezer section.

I arrived home to find the word “Jezebel” painted on my front door, which meant that either Bitsy Stout or her crazy friend with the lisp had paid a visit. And that really annoyed me, because I knew I had to take some kind of action, but I didn't know what
kind
of action. And
that
annoyed me further because I was hungry, and I had two pints of Ben & Jerry's chocolate fudge in my grocery bag, calling out to me.

Fortunately I was hit with such a brilliant thought that I surprised even myself. I unlocked my door and carried in my groceries, then went to the upstairs guest room, where I still had boxes to unpack. It took ten minutes of devoted searching before I found my camera. Luckily there was still film left.

I hurried downstairs and out the front door. I knew Bitsy was watching, which was why I made a production of taking pictures, treating it like a crime scene. Bitsy was probably gnawing her bottom lip and wondering what I was going to do next. She would probably wait until it was dark to wash the paint off. She'd want to know that I was asleep.

With my proof caught on film, I turned toward Bitsy's house and gave her the finger. It wasn't my best moment, but it felt good. Sometimes you just have to do what feels really good.

By the time I unloaded my groceries, I was too tired to cook; plus I'd forgotten to buy a vegetable steamer. I changed clothes and made myself a bowl of soup. I chose vegetable soup in keeping with my new eating plan. When the phone rang, I ignored it.

My mother's voice came on the answering machine. “Kate, pick up. I know you're there.” A long pause. “Kate, I've been thinking about you and Jay. I just have one word of advice for you.”

I pressed my fingers to my ears so that I didn't have to hear it. I realized I was acting as if I were four years old, but I didn't care. I was in crisis. It felt good to act four years old. Just as it had felt good to flip off Bitsy Stout.

The answering machine beeped, and my mother was gone.

I was finishing up my soup when the phone rang again.

Jay's voice came on. “We need to talk, Katie. Please pick up the phone.”

I sighed. Why did everybody just assume I was spending a dull night at home? I really did need to reinvent myself.

“Katie, we need to talk,” Jay said.

“It's been almost six months, you idiot,” I muttered. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Katie, I know you think I'm an idiot for not calling in almost six months,” Jay said, “but I really think it's time we discussed a few things. You've got my number, so call me, okay?”

He hung up.

I tried not to think of how we'd spent the previous night; of how, while I was lying on my stomach in his bed, he'd run his tongue down the length of my spine and I'd shivered so hard, my teeth had rattled.

I washed my dirty dishes. Instead of falling on the couch as I would normally have done, I decided to take a walk so it would look good on my progress sheet. I had gone only a couple of blocks before I realized a dog was following me, some kind of terrier mixed with something I didn't recognize. I ignored it, even when it caught up with me and managed to meet my stride, despite its stubby legs.

“Go away,” I said, but when I turned back for home, the dog followed. There was no collar, which meant the animal was probably a stray, but a well-fed stray, since its belly was plenty big enough. He or she had probably been mooching off my neighbors.

The dog followed me to my front door, but I continued to ignore it, mainly because I loved animals and could easily get sucked in by soft brown eyes. I let myself in and locked the door behind me. I grabbed a pint of Ben & Jerry's and a spoon, turned on The Movie Channel, and sat on the sofa. I was well into both the ice cream and the movie plot when I decided to check on the dog. He was curled on my stoop.

The phone rang, and I picked up. No answer, but I could hear someone breathing. “I know who this is,” I said, “and I expect you to wash that stupid paint off my door or I'm going to take legal action.” I slammed down the phone.

The movie ended, and I went to bed, thankful to have the day behind me. I awoke sometime later to the crash of thunder, and pouring rain. I remembered the dog and hurried downstairs. I cracked my front door open and saw the animal pressed against it, wet and shivering.

Finally I let him in. His tail wagged as he gazed up at me like I was his new best friend. “Don't get your hopes up,” I said, using my sternest voice. “You're only staying for the night.” I studied him closely. “I'll bet you're hungry.”

I opened a can of tuna fish and watched him devour it. I put water into a bowl and carried it to my laundry room. He followed and drank the water while I grabbed an old towel and put it on the floor. “Okay, this is where you'll sleep,” I said, pointing. The dog immediately curled up on the towel. I could almost swear he smiled at me.

“Good night,” I said. I paused and added, “Mike.” He looked like he should be named Mike.

I only hoped Mike didn't have fleas.

 

Candles flickered around
the bed. Hundreds of them, in an assortment of sizes and shapes, their flames repeated and made brighter by surrounding mirrors. They flickered on the sills of tall leaded-glass windows, adding a feeling of warmth and intimacy to the room, despite the great storm outside, beating against the castle.

Castle? I had no idea what I was doing in a castle. I didn't even know anyone who owned a castle.

I gazed down at Jay, tanned and muscular and naked against white satin sheets. His blue eyes caressed my face as I leaned over him and nuzzled the dark hair on his chest. I splayed my fingers and watched the silken hairs curl around them, and I tongued one nipple. Jay's breath was warm on my cheek and neck.

I reached below, encircled him with my hand, found him hard.