it?
M: No. But it completely ruins the mood, and the fantasy’s over.
P: So you’re getting hot and heavy with a woman, you’re about to have sexual intercourse, and the phone rings.
M: Yes.
P: I think you have intimacy issues.
M: What makes you say that?
What idiots. Petrov shouldn’t even charge me, after having to listen to this dreck all day.
I hear him approaching the door, and I scramble away from it. The guy who comes out is about four foot ten. I wonder how people like him even have sex. I’m not trying to be funny. How do people who are so different in height have intercourse? I’ve seen four-foot-eleven girls with men who look like they’re six foot three. When they’re in bed, do the girls climb up to kiss them, then lower themselves and have sex, and then, when they’re finished, climb back up and kiss them again?
“Hi, Carrie,” Dr. Petrov says. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.” I enter and sit down.
“Is there a ‘but’?” he asks, sitting across from me. “You seem hesitant.”
“Well,” I say, “I sort of have this problem.”
“Okay.”
“Whenever I’m having a sexual fantasy, the phone rings.”
Petrov shifts uncomfortably. “I’d appreciate your not listening in on my sessions.”
“I couldn’t help it. The door was just flat enough for my ear.”
“Let’s see what kind of progress you’ve made on your to-do list.”
ZOLOFT®
1 Do things from list of 10 things you love
2 Join an org./club
3 Go on date
4 Tell someone you care
5 Celebrate New Yr’s
“I had ice cream,” I say. “To fulfill mandate number one.”
“That’s great,” he says. “Did you get rainbow sprinkles?”
“Yes. I made a whole ice-cream soda.”
“And how did it make you feel?”
I have to admit it. “Pretty good,” I say.
He smiles, as if he’s earned a victory. This bugs me, so I add, “I haven’t made any progress on getting a date. Or joining an organization.”
“What about the guy from legal proofreading who flirts with you?”
“He doesn’t flirt with me. And I haven’t seen him again yet. I will, though.”
“Good. Remember not to back down if he wants to get to know you better. Even if he’s not exactly like you, you can still become friends with him.”
“Okay.”
“Have you found any clubs you might want to join?”
“I’m looking around,” I say. “I’m still considering that church.”
“You know, you’re in New York City. If you pick up the Weekly Beacon, there are lots of events in the listings section.”
This reminds me of something. The Weekly Beacon has a very popular personal ad section. It gives you a little more than the usual personal ad websites on the Internet. You can read the Beacon’s ads in the paper or on the Web, but they also have a feature where you can have a voice mailbox so you can hear the other person’s voice and they can hear yours, without having to give out your number at first. So not only can you trade e-mails, but you can trade phone messages, too. That provides me with optimum chance to talk to them and rank their creepiness potential before I have to meet them. A lot of people on the Internet pretend to be different than they are. This is perfect. I should be able to get at least one date and satisfy Petrov’s requirement easily, even if this wasn’t the method he had in mind.
I can place an ad and tell all about myself. What’s more, I can mention in the ad that I have morals and that I’m smart. And I can include my restrictions for the people who respond. That way, I might actually meet someone who has standards and intellectual interests.
I’m definitely going to do that.
Petrov asks, “Are you okay? You seem a little down today.”
We go into how my week went, how my father is, and about New York in general, but I don’t mention Professor Harrison. I tell Petrov I’m going to rent classic movies after the session. That’s how I’ve been occupying several evenings lately, since I’ve read a lot of classic literature but haven’t seen enough classic films. The movies come from a top-100 movie list recently released by the Association of American Film Reviewers. They actually released a whole bevy of lists, including 100 best movies, 100 best movie scores, 100 best leading men, 100 best leading women, and 100 best movie characters. If I had to do my own film characters list, number 1 would be C. F. Kane, 2 would be Nurse Ratched, 3 would be Dr. Strangelove, and 4 through 21 would be Sybil. There are some great characters in movies—greater than in real life.
When I leave Petrov’s office, I figure I’ll walk home instead of taking the scumway, so that I can pick up a DVD on the way. It’s not that long a walk. Maybe this is good practice for staying out on New Year’s Eve.
A few blocks out of Petrov’s office, I see someone familiar. It’s Hat Guy again. He disappears around a corner. Is he following me? It’s awfully odd to see someone twice in one day whom you’ve never seen before.
I wonder if my father is having him tail me to check up on me. I decide I’ll follow him a bit. I run up the block and around the corner. He disappears again. I try to catch up, but I lose him.
Maybe I’m imagining it.
When I get back to my apartment building, Bobby is outside, bending over a cellar window that’s caked with mud and damp leaves. He notices me from between his own legs. “Hey, beautiful,” he says. I quickly turn and don’t say anything. I push the front door open and jog up the stairs, which have been trampled for so many years that the black rubber matting beneath the carpeting has bled through on the edge of each step, and the color of the rug has turned from yellow to sallow.
When I reach the top, I stop. I stand there and feel a hole in my stomach. All Bobby did was say, “Hey, beautiful.” And he’s old; maybe saying it brought him joy. Why was I so mean? What if he really does think I’m beautiful? What if, as far as he was concerned, he was just being nice?
No one else consistently tells me I’m beautiful.
I stand there and feel sickness wash over myself.
Then, the feeling goes away, like it usually does.
That night,
