High Anxiety (12 page)

“Don’t ask,” Mona said.

I overslept the
next morning and was forced to rush. I barely had time to shower and throw on my clothes, walk Mike, and toss back a cup of coffee before I loaded my belongings and my dog into the car and hit the road for home. I figured Mona would not need me now that her mother was there.

I dropped Mike off and drove straight to my office. I was surprised to find the door to the reception room unlocked and Abigail sitting at the front desk.

“How did you get in?” I blurted.

“I forgot to mention it yesterday, but I took the key from the center desk drawer. I hope you don’t mind.”

I did mind. True, Mona had her own key and came and went as she pleased, but I’d known Abigail less than twenty-four hours.

“Uh-oh,” she said. “I can see by the look on your face that you’re not pleased.”

“You should have told me,” I said. “I prefer knowing where all the keys are.”

She looked surprised. “It’s not like I took the key to your private office,” she said. She suddenly opened the bottom desk drawer and pulled out her purse. She reached inside and brought out a key and dropped it on the desk. “There,” she said. “Only it’s going to be a bitch for me tomorrow, because I don’t know what time I’ll get here or how long I’ll have to wait until you let me in.”

“What do you mean?”

“I take the city bus,” she said, “so I’m a slave to its schedule.”

“Don’t you have a car?”

“Yeah. Only it was old before I drove thousands of miles to get to Atlanta. I never know when it’s going to break down, and right now I can’t afford to have it fixed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Companies don’t hire people unless they have adequate transportation.”

“How were you able to get here so quickly yesterday?”

“I took a cab.”

No telling what that had cost, I thought. I was beginning to feel bad for her. “So how long have you been here this morning?” I asked.

She shrugged. “A little over an hour. I used the time to straighten the supply room and clean out the refrigerator. There was a jar of mayonnaise that expired two years ago. I’m surprised it didn’t kill somebody.”

I smiled. “So you saved my life.”

She shrugged. “Could be.”

“Here,” I said, shoving the key across the desk toward her. “I’m sorry I overreacted. How about I make it up to you over a cup of coffee?” I suggested. “It won’t take me long to make it.”

“I’ve already made it,” Abigail said, “and I bought donuts from downstairs. They’re on the kitchen table.” She picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to me. “I made a list of items you are running low on, both in the kitchen and the supply room. You’re almost out of coffee, and if you don’t buy toilet paper soon, we’re all going to be sorry.”

I nodded and skimmed the rest of the list. “Thank you, Abigail,” I said, genuinely appreciative. “Mona usually makes the list and gives it to me. I wouldn’t have thought to look.”

Abigail smiled. “You’re just being nice because I bought donuts.”

“You’re right,” I said.

“So what are we waiting for?”

Five minutes later we were both sitting at the kitchen table with coffee and a donut in front of us. “I should probably tell you,” Abigail said, “that the temp agency called only minutes before you got here. This lady named Bernice wants to know if I’m working out okay,” she added. “I told her I thought you were pleased with me, but I suspect she’s going to call back.” She paused. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Pleased with my work?” she asked.

“Oh. Well, yes,” I said. Which was true. I had no complaints as far as how she performed her duties. I just thought she was strange. “I hate that you had to sit around for an hour this morning,” I said.

She shrugged. “I didn’t have anything better to do, but I plan to look more closely at the bus schedules for this area. Hopefully, I’ll find something more convenient.” She paused. “You know, if Mona decides not to come back, you’ll be able to hire me full time. I know the agency will charge a fee for that, but I’ll gladly pay it.”

Her comment surprised me. “Please don’t get your hopes up, Abigail. There is no reason to believe Mona isn’t coming back.”

She looked disappointed. “I just want you to know I’m available.”

 

 

My first patient
of the day was claustrophobic and had a fear of heights. I had treated numerous patients for the same problem. Unfortunately, this patient worked on the top floor of a tall building, and her office was surrounded by glass. Not only did she avoid looking out the windows for fear of having a full-blown panic attack, she was forced to use the stairs because of her fear of elevators.

As with many of my patients, I’d made a relaxation tape for her. Unlike others I treated, she actually practiced the techniques. She could take short trips on the elevator. If she sat in her chair and placed her hands flat on her desk, which gave her a feeling of being grounded, she could peek at the windows. I felt confident there would come a time when she would be able to look out the windows and admire Atlanta’s skyline instead of hiding from it.

 

 

My next appointment,
Arnie (aka Arnell) Decker, suffered from gender identity disorder. He’d spent his life feeling trapped in a man’s body before he’d decided on sexual reassignment surgery. In order to qualify, he had to see a therapist for eighteen months, during which time he would live as a woman.

Most people don’t understand the confusion, distress, depression, and self-loathing that often accompanies GID, especially for someone like Arnie, an ex-Marine. He had been devastated when his family, specifically his father, had disowned him. My mother and aunt, on the other hand, had opened their hearts and their home to him, accepting him just as he was.

As proud as I was of them, and although I genuinely liked Arnie/Arnell, I felt I had to avoid a close friendship with him, lest it get in the way of our patient-therapist relationship.

Today he was dressed in an attractive rust-colored skirt and jacket, accessorized by a flattering scarf. Arnell had exquisite taste, proof that my mom and aunt did not accompany him to the mall.

“How are things going?” I asked him once we were seated in my office. Arnell was the head chef at a five-star restaurant, and he was always coming up with new recipes. Since our sessions were strictly confidential, I was often privy to the secret ingredients he used.

“I know people make fun of me behind my back,” he said. “Especially at work,” he added. “I try to ignore it, but sometimes it’s hurtful.”

“Most people don’t understand GID,” I said, “and those who do may not be so accepting.”

“I don’t think it’s any of their business,” he said.

I nodded. “You’re right. A person’s sexual preference is a personal decision, but we both know that some people are going to be uncomfortable with it. You can’t control what other people think, Arnell. You can only control how you choose to deal with it.”

He gave a grunt. “That’s what I keep telling myself, but sometimes it’s hard. The owner of the restaurant finally called me into his office day before yesterday. I was shaking in my high heels that he was going to tell me to take a hike.”

“And?”

Arnell grinned. “He said he didn’t care if I came to work in a hoop skirt as long as I kept the customers coming in.”

“Excellent!” I said. “By the way, have you looked into a support group?”

“I’m still checking. I’d really like to meet people like me. Not that I don’t get a lot of support from your mom and aunt,” he added. “They’re great. I just wish my own family could accept me as I am.”

“Give it time, Arnell.”

“We both know my father isn’t likely to come around.”

Arnell’s father was a colonel, a die-hard military man who’d pressed his son to join the armed forces in hopes of turning him into a man’s man. Arnell had served proudly; he’d even kept his gender issues top secret, but it had been a miserable existence for him. As had the heterosexual relationships he’d tried to form. It wasn’t until Arnell was on the verge of suicide that he came to me for help.

“You and I both know we can’t live our lives according to other people’s wishes,” I said. “If that were the case, you’d be attending monster truck rallies with your father, and I’d be Dumpster-diving for junk.”

We both laughed. Arnell knew my mother had wanted me to be part of the family business for years. She had never understood why I’d chosen to become a psychologist instead of a junk dealer.

The session ended, and Arnell and I set up a time for the following week. After he left, I remained in my chair, staring out the window. I wondered if Jay was okay and if he was getting enough rest. I wondered if he was still annoyed with me and if he was ready to toss in the towel as far as our relationship went. My patients were able to distract me from dwelling on my worries, but once they were gone, it all came back to me. The least he could do was call.

I went into the bathroom and washed my hands three times.

Abigail knocked on my door at noon. “I was thinking of grabbing a sandwich downstairs,” she said. “Would you like something?”

I had to admit a sandwich sounded better than cheese crackers from the vending machine. “Sure,” I said, reaching for my purse.

“No, no,” she said, holding up both hands. “It’s my treat.”

“Don’t be silly,” I told her, suspecting she had financial problems after hearing about her car.

“I’d really like to buy your lunch today, Kate. It would mean a lot to me.”

“Okay,” I said. “Next time, it will be my treat.” I gave her my order, and she hurried out.

I was trying to organize my files when Abigail returned. At least half the files, paperwork from patients I no longer saw, needed to be put through the shredder. I finally closed the file drawer and joined Abigail in the kitchenette.

“Boy, that Arnell guy sure knows how to dress,” she said. “He looks so put together, if you know what I mean,” she said. “It all has to do with accessorizing, I think.”

I nodded but waited for her comment, to see whether she would have a problem dealing with some of my more outlandish patients, for lack of a better word.

“I never know what’s in style,” she confessed. “I’ll bet he subscribes to one of those high-fashion magazines.”

“I don’t keep up with the latest styles,” I admitted.

She looked surprised. “But you look so professional, so tailored. Does someone make your clothes for you?”

I laughed. “Yeah. Jaclyn Smith from Kmart.”

“No way!”

“Uh-huh. Also, thirty percent off,” I added proudly, pointing to the navy blue suit I wore.

“That color looks good on you, and the style has a certain, shall I say, understated elegance? I’ll bet the guys find it sexy.”

“Wow, I’m going to have to write to Jaclyn Smith and thank her.” I picked up my sandwich. “You should see how my receptionist dresses,” I said. “She shops at all the best stores.”

“She must have money.”

“Yup. Plus, she’s a size three and can eat anything without gaining weight.”

Abigail shook her head. “Don’t you want to slap people like that?”

I laughed. It felt good. Perhaps I’d been too hard on Abigail.

 

 

On the way
home, I stopped by the grocery store to pick up the supplies Abigail had said we needed. I checked my messages. Again, no word from Jay. I felt my heart sink to the soles of my feet, but I was annoyed as well. The man couldn’t pick up the damn phone for five minutes? I had a real problem with that.

I gave Mike her daily dose of attention and opened my freezer so I could decide what I was having for dinner. I had a choice between Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes or turkey and stuffing with mixed vegetables. I liked having a variety from which to choose. I popped the turkey and stuffing into the microwave and tried to reach Alice Smithers again, the patient whose alter ego, Liz Jones, was giving Thad trouble, but there was no answer. I went upstairs to change clothes.

Mona called shortly after I’d finished my dinner. “How did it go today with the temp?” she asked.

“She’s not so bad,” I said, “but I hope your mom is able to cure you quickly so you can come back to work.”

“Mama is determined to rid my body of toxins.” Mona sighed. “We’re working on cleansing my liver.”

“I didn’t know livers got dirty,” I said.

“She claims she can’t treat an illness until the body is cleansed. She also threw away half the stuff in my pantry. She’ll probably put me on a diet of bean sprouts and seaweed before it’s over.”

“How is Tiara?”

“Miserable. She complains constantly. She says she feels bigger than the Mall of America. Plus, her feet are swollen. When she’s not complaining about how crummy she feels, she’s complaining about being hungry. I should have known Mama would bring one of her patients. Like I don’t have enough to deal with,” she added.

“You sound resentful.”

“Maybe I am,” she said. “I never call Mama for help, but the one time I do, she has to bring the most pregnant woman in the world with her. It’s not like she’s the only midwife in Tennessee. She could have asked someone else to take over Tiara’s care. You should see how she fusses over her.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing Mona was hurt because she was playing second fiddle to a woman she barely knew.

My doorbell rang. I said good-bye to Mona and peered through the peephole. Two neatly dressed women, one middle-aged, the other one a bit younger, stood on the other side. Obviously, they were selling something. I unlocked my door but kept the chain in place. “I don’t know what you’re selling,” I said politely, “but I’m not interested.”

“We’re selling eternity,” the older woman said.