do you mean? He asked me how I felt and I told him."
"You don’t tell him how you really feel, Idiot. You tell him what he wants to hear. Don’t you even know the stages of grief?"
"No."
"Well, I suggest you find out and fast. You might want to go to the library and look up Elizabeth Kubler-Ross. You do know where the library is?"
"Yes, I know where the library is, Smarty-pants."
"Oh, and you might want to drop the whole “Buckstar's is evil” crap, or Dr. Doom is going to lock you up and throw away the key."
My mom came back into the room with Mickey Rooney, I mean, Dr. Frankenbaum.
"Your mother and I have been having a little chat, Dorothy," he said. "And we feel that it is in your best interest, at this point, to attend individual therapy sessions twice a week. That is in addition to your already scheduled family sessions. You are an adult, so your mother can’t legally make that decision for you, but since she is willing to pay for your therapy, I think you should give my recommendation some serious consideration."
Twice a week! Like I didn’t have anything better to do? Well, I guess I really didn’t have anything better to do but that was beside the point. Therapy twice a week was just out of control. Way out of control.
"Now, Dorothy," my mom said. "I know this has been a very difficult week for you. It’s been a very difficult week for all of us. But you can’t just sleep your life away!"
"That’s not an appropriate coping mechanism, Dorothy," said Dr. Frankenbaum.
I said, "I don’t know." What I did know was that I did not want to be in therapy. I especially didn't want to be in therapy with Mickey Rooney.
"This is an investment in your future, Dorothy," said Dr. Frankenbaum.
"You want to be mentally healthy, don’t you?"
Now, if that wasn’t a loaded question. Who doesn’t want to be mentally healthy? "Of course, I want to be mentally healthy, but—"
"Then it’s settled," my mom said. "When can she start with her individual sessions, Doctor?"
"How about next Wednesday?" said Dr. Frankenbaum, scrutinizing his calendar.
I tried everything I could think of to weasel my way out of treatment but to no avail.
"What time should she be here?" my mother asked.
"How does two-thirty sound?" he said.
"Perfect," said my mom, and it was settled.
And that’s how I got talked into a year of therapy.
When Dr. Frankenbaum escorted us back out into the waiting room, his next patients were already waiting for their appointment. The two men were sitting together, in the yellow plastic chairs, reading a book of poetry aloud and holding hands. I could barely contain the overwhelming excitement that was building in anticipation of my next session.
Part 3: Oh, Dear! The House Must Have Fallen On Her, Whatever Shall We Do?
I didn’t go back to my mom's house after that first therapy session. Instead, I did what any out-of-work twenty-six year old would do. I went back to my apartment and went to sleep. That’s all I really wanted to do for a very long time.
Eventually, though, my roommate and best friend, Haley Totino, returned from her Great Two-Week New York City Audition Adventure. Haley is an aspiring actress, just like I was. The difference between us is that Haley has a tremendous amount of talent. It's not that I don't think I've got talent; I just don't have nearly the talent that Haley does.
The problem is that Haley isn't attractive in the conventional movie star kind of way, and that really bothers her. She lacks the confidence in her talent that one needs to be a star. I imagine Haley as a kind of young Kathy Bates and nothing ever stopped her from making it in Hollywood.
"And just where have you been?" Haley asked, walking into my bedroom.
"I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the last week. What’s the matter, didn’t you pay the phone bill?"
"I was staying at my mom’s house," I said.
"Why?"
"There’s no easy way to say it, so I’ll just say it. My dad died last week."
"What?"
"My dad—"
"I heard what you said. That was an I-can’t-believe-what-I-just-heard kind of what not a please-repeat-what-you-just-said kind of what."
"Oh."
"What happened?"
"All I wanted to do was sleep and my mom made me go to this Mickey Rooney clone-doctor. He may actually be Mickey Rooney incognito, or maybe he’s like his Doppleganger or something. He’s really scary and his office smells like garlic and onions. He doesn’t even have any magazines in the waiting room, and his other patients are these gay guys, who read poetry to each other. I didn't know who Betsy Keebler Ross is so now I have to go to therapy twice a week."
"I mean, what happened to your dad?"
"It was that evil Buckstar's. Remember how I told you not to go there because they had this plan to take over the world by stealing all of our souls with their caffe lattes and mocha javas. Well, they got my dad."
"You did say you’re in therapy."
"Twice a week."
"That’s good, Dorothy."
"So, how was New York?" I asked. I was eager to hear the scoop on her auditions.
"Are you sure you want to hear about this? I mean, don’t you want to lie down or something?"
"No. I’ve been lying down for days. I’m on an up-swing. How was the Big Apple?"
Never having been out of the state of Florida, I was very anxious to hear her tales of Broadway.
"The Big Apple is big."
"And?"
"Noisy, dirty, smelly, crowded, expensive. It's every bad thing you've ever heard about it and more!"
"What about the auditions?"
"I had three. The first audition was for a one-liner on Law and Order. There were 50 people reading for the part. They gave it to a woman with a prosthetic arm. They said she looked the most like real life New York. The second role was for a new movie that just started filming. They said it was starring Gerard Butler and Betty White as star-crossed lovers or something like that. It sounded kind of weird to me. Anyway, I didn’t get that part either. The last one was for a tuna fish commercial. About 200 people showed up for the audition. How many different ways can you say, Don’t you wishy you had some Tuna Fishy?”
"Wow.
