High Anxiety (8 page)

“Surprise!” she sang out. “Guess who’s going to be your receptionist while Mona is out?”

I opened my
mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I didn’t know what to say.

“I knew you would be surprised,” she said. “Mona called me. She was concerned that you had no one to answer your phone or greet your patients. I told her I would be more than happy to help out.”

She was dressed in her nicest outfit, and her platinum hair was teased and lacquered with hair spray, as usual. “What about the studio?” I asked.

“Trixie and I worked it out,” she said.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue, Mom,” I said, trying to appear grateful, even though I feared her presence would only create more stress for me. I wondered if Mona had called her as a way to get even with me for causing her hives.

“What did you expect me to do?” she said. “We’re family, and families stick together. But I have to tell you, Kate, I was hurt that you didn’t personally call me. If you can’t count on your own mother, who
can
you count on?”

Let the guilt-trip begin, I thought.

She set her purse on the desk and glanced about. She thumbed through the magazines on my coffee table and peeked inside the supply room.

“I can see that I have my work cut out for me,” she said.

I gripped the handle on my coffee cup. “What do you mean?”

“Well, that supply room definitely needs organizing,” she said. “And do you realize that some of the magazines on that coffee table are almost a year old? They really need to be tossed. And that poor plant is dying,” she added, pointing to my bamboo plant near the window.

The thought of her changing and rearranging everything in my office struck fear in my heart. “You don’t need to do all that, Mom. If you could just answer the phone and try to make my patients feel at ease when they arrive, that’d be great. Some of them are pretty anxious when they come in.”

“Of course!” she said. “I’ll make them feel right at home. Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” she added. “I’ll finally be able to see what you do all day. I just wish I could sit in on a couple of your sessions so I could watch you in action, but I’m sure that’s a big no-no.”

“You’re right,” I said. I noticed a stack of envelopes sticking out of her purse. “What’s all that?”

“RSVPs for Bump and Lou’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary party on Sunday night at the VFW. I hope you didn’t forget.”

How
could
I forget, I wanted to tell her. I’d been dreading it for weeks. I had met Aunt Lou’s family, all hog farmers, at a reunion five years ago and had learned more than I’d wanted to know about the process of mating, castration, and dressing of hogs. I hadn’t been able to look at a pork chop for months.

“How many people are you expecting to attend?” I asked.

“About forty,” she said.

“That’s a lot of people,” I said. “Where are they staying?”

“At the Comfort Inn. We were able to get everybody a big discount. Oh, and there’s no need to dress up for the party. It’s casual.”

Which meant there was going to be a lot of polyester at the VFW on Sunday night.

Just then, the door opened, and a man in his fifties walked in. He wore jeans and a sweatshirt. “I’m Robert Nells,” he said. “I have a nine o’clock appointment.”

It was his first visit. “I’m Kate Holly.” We shook hands. “Please call me Kate.”

“I’m Robert.”

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” I asked.

“That would be great. I take it black.”

It didn’t take long for him to complete the necessary paperwork I required all my new patients to fill out. I invited him into my office and closed the door. I scanned the form quickly and discovered that he had lost his job with a major corporation six months prior. His body language—slumped shoulders, hangdog look—said it all.

“I had no idea it was coming,” he said, not wasting any time getting to the heart of the matter. “I was the executive vice president for twelve years.”

“Were you given an explanation as to why they were letting you go?” I asked.

“Profits were down. The company was cutting back. At least that’s what I was told. I later learned they hired a guy to replace me. He’s probably twenty years younger than me and costs them a lot less. I received a nice severance, but I feel they screwed me. It’s not easy starting over at fifty-five. Not only am I older, I’m overqualified for most jobs, and when potential employers take one look at the salary I was being paid, they back off.”

“So how do you fill your time these days?” I asked.

“Frankly, I’m bored out of my mind,” he said. “It wasn’t so bad in the beginning, because I was able to do a lot of things that needed doing around the house. I cleaned out the attic and the garage, got rid of a bunch of stuff. I painted several rooms and redid the landscaping in our yard. My wife loved it. But I’ve run out of projects. Nowadays, I mostly sit around the house and wait for the phone to ring.”

“Do you ever get together with friends or colleagues?” I asked.

“No. I guess I’m embarrassed.”

“You must feel very isolated these days.”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

I jotted down a few notes before speaking. “Robert, I’d like to play a little game,” I said. “It may sound or feel silly, but I think you could benefit from it.”

He shrugged. “I suppose. It’s not like I have someplace I need to be.”

I set my clipboard aside. “I want you to close your eyes and imagine what it would feel like if you were offered a good job. The
perfect
job,” I added.

He gave me an odd look but closed his eyes. “I’m not feeling very imaginative today,” he confessed.

“I’ll help you out. I want you to pretend that you’re sitting in the CEO’s office of a reputable company,” I added. “I want you to imagine what the office looks like and form a picture of the man who just hired you. Take your time.”

Robert frowned. It was obvious he was struggling. Finally, after several minutes, he nodded.

“Tell me what you see.”

“Top-of-the-line office furnishings, and a guy in a nice suit. Custom tailored,” he added.

“And you’re wearing your best suit, right?”

“Yes.”

“How are you sitting?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re feeling good about getting the job. You’re at the top of your game, so to speak. How does someone in that position sit?”

He looked thoughtful. Finally, he sat up straight in the chair. “Like this?” he asked.

“Excellent,” I said. “Now I want you to keep your eyes closed and really concentrate on how that feels. Throw back your shoulders and see just how tall you can sit. Hitch your chin high.” He worked at it. “Come on, Robert, you can do better than that. Puff out your chest.” He finally achieved the pose I’d been looking for. “Tell me how it feels,” I said.

“Different,” he said, “but nice.”

“You’re feeling pretty proud and confident, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember a time when you felt like that in the past?”

“Yes.”

“Great. I want you to concentrate solely on what that was like. If other thoughts come to mind, just nudge them aside.”

I sat very still and watched the changes come over him. The lines on either side of his mouth and eyes relaxed. His breathing became deep and even. After almost ten minutes, I spoke.

“I’m going to ask you to open your eyes, but I want you to remain sitting just as you are.”

He looked dazed.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I’m thinking maybe I came across poorly in some of my interviews. Maybe I appeared depressed or desperate.”

“You’re right,” I said. “So from now on, I want you to get up early during the workweek, take a shower, and put on your best suit.”

“Even if I have no place to go?” he asked.

“Right. I also want you to make a list of friends or colleagues you can invite to lunch. You don’t have to go to expensive restaurants, but I’d like for you to go to lunch with someone at least three days a week. It’s called networking.

“In the meantime, I want you to work at what you enjoy doing outside of being an executive. Can you think of anything?”

“I’m pretty good at landscaping. That’s how I put myself through college. Even my neighbors are impressed. A couple of them wanted to hire me. And to be honest, it feels good being outside after spending years cooped up in an office. Plus, I’m getting exercise.”

“That’s an excellent idea!” I said.

“You know, I could even start my own business.”

I nodded. He appeared enthusiastic at the thought.

He gazed at me for a moment. “You know, for someone so young, you really know your stuff.”

I smiled. “Thank you for calling me young. You just became my favorite patient.”

He chuckled. I suspected it had been a while since he’d laughed. I felt we’d made progress.

 

 

“You had a
couple of phone calls,” my mother said once I’d scheduled Robert for the following week and saw him out. I noticed a bounce in his step that he hadn’t shown before. My mother handed me two pink message slips. “This lady, Mrs. Bryant, sounded like she was going off the deep end.”

I arched one brow.

“You know, like maybe she shouldn’t be allowed near a bridge because she might bail. I was able to calm her down, though.”

Mrs. Bryant was an elderly woman who had been grieving her husband’s death since he was laid to rest almost a year ago. She hadn’t been able to get on with her life. “What do you mean, you calmed her down?” I asked.

“I talked some sense into her,” she said.

“That was really very thoughtful of you, Mom, but you should not try to advise my patients.” I could tell she wasn’t listening.

“As you can see, the other call was from your pervert ex-boyfriend,” she went on. “I don’t know why you even talk to him.”

“Thad Glazer and I share several patients.”

“How can you share patients?” she asked.

“He provides medication therapy for mine, and I see some of his for talk therapy.”

“Why doesn’t he talk to his own patients?”

“Thad doesn’t like to listen to other people’s problems.”

“That’s because he’s shallow and self-centered. I’m surprised Jay allows the two of you to work together.”

“It’s strictly business, Mom.” She gave a grunt. I checked my wristwatch. “I have someone due in shortly. I’d better return these calls.”

I entered my office and closed the door behind me. I dialed Mrs. Bryant’s number, and she answered on the first ring.

“I understand you’re having a bad day,” I said, trying to sound as sympathetic as I could. “Would you like to move your appointment up?”

“Oh, I’m much better now that I’ve talked to your receptionist, Dixie,” she said. “I can’t believe how self-involved I’ve been. Like Dixie said, most women aren’t lucky enough to celebrate forty years of marriage. I can’t believe what a whiner I’ve been. You should have told me.”

I sighed. Leave it to my mother to create problems between my patients and me. “Everyone grieves differently and in their own time, Mrs. Bryant. You and your husband had an exceptional marriage. You were best friends. I’m not surprised his passing was so difficult for you.”

“Well, it’s like Dixie said, he wouldn’t have wanted me to sit around feeling sorry for myself. I need to get off my behind and do something for somebody else. When you do for others, it takes your mind off your own problems.”

I listened politely. I couldn’t begin to count the times I had suggested Mrs. Bryant look into volunteer work. “I’m glad you’ve decided to take that step,” I said. “Did you want to reschedule or come in on your regular day?”

“Actually, after giving it some thought, I’m not going to require your services anymore.”

The next thing I heard was a dial tone. “Thanks, Mom,” I muttered to myself. I suddenly noticed Thad’s message was marked “urgent.” I dialed his number. His receptionist, Bunny, informed me in her Betty Boop voice that Thad was meeting with his attorney, and she didn’t know when he would be back.

“I don’t know what the meeting is about,” Bunny said, “but Thad was upset when he left here.”

“Would you please tell him I tried to call him back?”

“Oh, for sure,” Bunny said.

I barely had time to hang up before my phone rang. Mona was on the other end. “How is your mom working out?”

“She just cured one of my patients.”

“No kidding?”

“There goes a paying customer.” I tried to make light of it, even though I was annoyed as hell. I had gone through about a gazillion boxes of tissues trying to pull Mrs. Bryant from her grief, but she had dug in her heels and refused to budge. Then, with one word from my mother, she had been fully restored.

“I probably should have checked with you before calling her, but I felt terrible leaving you in the lurch.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, knowing Mona’s heart was in the right place. “How is the rash?”

“Jimbo agrees that it has gotten much worse,” she said. “I have an appointment with my dermatologist right after lunch. How’s your toe?”

“Still sore, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did.”

“I have a confession to make,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve been cracking up all morning thinking about it.”

“Gee, I’m glad I could provide a little comic relief. If it’ll help, I can come by and drop the vase on my other toe.”

“Only a true friend would offer to do something like that,” Mona said.

I was glad her mood was better. “Let me know what the dermatologist says,” I said before we hung up.

I got up from my desk, opened my door, and found Ellen and Gerald Holmes, a couple I had been counseling for several weeks, talking to my mom as she thumbed through the telephone book. Ellen and Gerald smiled at me, which was rare, because they had trouble being in the same room without fighting. Some three or four months ago, Ellen had walked into Gerald’s office and found him in a compromising position with a coworker. She automatically assumed they were having an affair, although Gerald swore it was all very innocent, that he was merely trying to comfort the woman, who’d recently lost a loved one. I did not know where the truth lay, but I was not sure their three-year marriage would survive Ellen’s doubts and suspicions.