In the hallway, I noticed a sign for the center. In gigantic block lettering it read: UNIVERSITY COUNSELING CENTER. Not only was the lettering huge, it was bright yellow. I was surprised they didn’t paint a fucking happy face on it, just to make it more obnoxious. Was yellow lettering supposed to make me feel happy? Calm? Peaceful? It made me angry.
Don’t try to influence my feelings. I hate it when people tell me what to think.
An overweight woman sat behind the front desk. She was on the phone. I’ve mentioned I hate waiting, right? I didn’t show any emotion. She smiled at me and held up a finger to let me know she would be right with me.
Annoyed by this, I did my best to look happy. Think yellow. I frowned. There, that’s my normal look.
Actually, I think my normal look is one of confusion. Whenever I walk into a store, an employee always immediately asks if I’m lost or if I need help. It implies that not only do I look confused, I also look like an imbecile. That makes me mad, so I sometimes overreact and tell the employee to shove it—at least, I do in my head. I’m not an outwardly confrontational person, but if these people could hear my internal dialogue, they would know where to go and exactly what I thought of them. Then they wouldn’t give me that silly grin that says, “Everything will be fine. Would you like a lollipop?”
No it won’t. Fuck off.
The large woman wore a floral print blouse, a bright scarf, and earrings that dangled down to her shoulders. She also wore a ridiculous amount of eye shadow and liner. Her carefree appearance and bright clothes pissed me off. Why are they forcing it down my throat here?
“Yes, can I help you?”
I wanted to tell her to shove it; instead, I replied, “Yes, ma’am. I’m here to see Liddy Elliot.”
She glanced down at the calendar to make sure I wasn’t lying. Why someone might lie about having an appointment with a shrink was beyond me, but I guess they do see a lot of crazies.
“Ah, yes, Paige. You’re marked down for two.” She tapped my name on the appointment book with her pencil.
No shit, Sherlock.
“She’s expecting you. So feel free to go into her office. Liddy will be right with you.”
I was puzzled. This was my first appointment. Didn’t the book scream: newbie! There was a maze of hallways. Was I supposed to know intuitively where I would find her office?
“Can you point me in the right direction? I’m completely turned around down here.”
“Tell you what, I’ll walk you to her office. Hers is the most difficult to find.” She raised her bulk to reveal tailored black slacks and heels. She did have style. I looked down at my jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt, feeling awkward. At least my clothes were clean, albeit slightly wrinkled. Jess bought me an iron a year ago. It’s still in the box. It makes a great doorstopper.
As we entered a long hallway, I noticed that most of the offices had the doors shut with signs on them that read: SESSION IN PROGRESS. DO NOT INTERRUPT!
What happened to the perkiness?
“You’re really lucky. Liddy is one of our best.” The fat woman sounded genuine.
The best, huh. Were they worried I would slit my wrists and spoil their carpet in the front office? That would dash their bubbly message. I smiled at the woman and then looked at the floor.
“Here we are. You can just go in, and Liddy will be right with you.”
I stood back and peeked inside the room. How had I ended up here, in some crappy room, hidden away in a basement? Turning to say thank you, I scrutinized the woman who was already scurrying back to her desk to help more crazies.
The hallway was deserted. If I made a break for it, I wouldn’t be noticed. Probably not missed either. The first session was free. Maybe I could just convince Jess I was seeing a therapist. Just act happier around her. Think yellow! How hard could that be? And I shouldn’t get caught slitting my wrists again, not that she kept any razors or other sharp objects in the apartment anymore. She even got rid of the stapler and three-whole punch. I’m not sure what she thought I planned on doing with those. Can you imagine trying to staple yourself to death? Only a lunatic would attempt that.
I squinted to see further into the room. It was the size of my bathroom. A black and white picture of a mountain being strangled by clouds hung on the wall. Ansel Adams maybe. A calendar featuring Dalmatian puppies decorated the other wall; it was two months behind. There were two chairs and an area rug. How did they find such a minuscule area rug? Maybe it was a bathmat passing as an area rug.
“It’s okay. You can go in.”
The voice scared the bejesus out of me, and I jumped.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I felt ridiculous. I turned to look over my shoulder and saw a beautiful, petite woman. Long blonde hair cascaded down her back. Her soft cobalt eyes and her diminutive mouth both seemed to smile.
“Um…you must be Dr. Elliot.” I did my best not to sound like a ninny.
I failed. Add it to my list.
“Yes, I am. And you must be Paige.” She reached for my elbow. “Come on, we’ll do this together.” She guided me into the room and over to a chair, and then she gently shoved me down. For a little gal, she was surprisingly strong and graceful.
She must manhandle a lot of cuckoos.
Liddy walked over to her desk, set her briefcase down, and picked up a notepad and pencil. Looking back at me over her shoulder, she smiled. Her hair covered half of her face. She was doing her best to make things easy for me. It wasn’t working. I wish I appreciated the effort, but all I wanted was to bolt from the room.
I scrutinized her again. She had a perfect body. Five feet, five inches would be my guess. With her curves and her sweet scent, she didn’t resemble Sigmund Freud at all. I imagined he smelled of sweat, sex, and tobacco. Not sure why, but that’s how I imagine him. She smelled like an orange grove on a summer day.
“Do you always study everyone you meet, Paige?” Her smile indicated she was teasing me.
“Nope. Just the ones who are going to put their nose into my business.”
She nodded. “I guess we should get down to it then.” Her voice was too masculine for someone so feminine and petite.
Sitting down, she said, “As you know, I’m the psychiatrist appointed to you through the university.”
Lucky you.
She didn’t take the bait, presumably because she couldn’t read minds.
“I thought today we would just talk and get to know each other,” she said.
“Don’t you mean you want to assess the damage?” I tugged on my shirtsleeves to ensure the scars were completely covered.
“That’s not exactly what I meant, Paige. I would like to talk so we can find a way to help you.”
We? What does she mean we?
“So you want to probe my brain. See what makes me tick. You can probe all you want, but if you even try to make me run through a maze in search of cheese I’m out of here.” I tried to laugh but couldn’t force it out of my throat.
She looked like she was thinking of what to say next. “Therapy may seem like going through a maze at times, but I don’t think the prize will be a piece of cheese.”
A prize? Oh boy? This is just as exciting as eating a box of Cracker Jacks. Maybe it will be a plastic ring that pinches my finger. I really like those. Or maybe a fake tattoo; now those are cool. I crossed my legs and arms. Trying to be sassy and in control exhausted me, even if Liddy couldn’t hear my efforts.
She tapped her pencil against her notepad, and then continued. “Maybe ‘prize’ wasn’t the right word.”
“Are you going to turn me into a freak? Have me shave my head and hand out flowers to people at the airport?” Now that would be a nifty reward. Personally, I’d never seen these people at the airport. I remembered seeing them in many of the movies from the eighties. I’d always wondered if they actually existed.
Liddy adjusted herself in her chair and leaned forward, not too close to pus
h the boundary, but too close for my comfort. “No, Paige. Shaving your head would be too easy. I plan to do something much worse to you.”
I imagined beads of sweat forming on my brow.
“You might wish, at times, that I would just shave your head and give you a handful of flowers to hand out.”
This woman was playing hardball.
Liddy continued to ask me questions and I answered them to the best of my ability. Then she asked one that stood out. “When did you decide to start therapy?”
I didn’t decide. It was decided for me. “I promised someone.” I looked over her head at the door. It was shut, but not locked. I could still make a break for it. Technically, I had seen a shrink. Promise fulfilled! But Jess still had me on the one-year technicality. Shit!
“Do you want to be here?”
I hesitated. I didn’t know the answer. “Can I get back to you on that one?” I bowed my head to avoid eye contact.
“Thank you. I appreciate the honesty. That’s a start at least.”
What a relief! And here I thought I wasn’t impressing her at all. “Are you currently in a relationship?” Her curious eyes screamed, “I want the truth.”
“Uh…do you mean do I have a boyfriend? Nope. No boyfriend.” I smiled inwardly at my cleverness.
She continued. “Do you have trouble sleeping?”
I noticed she had a checklist on top of her notepad. Was she literally asking routine questions? Would every session be like this? I bet I could find a book in the library and predict the questions. Sweet! Cheap shrinks are easy to manipulate. I tried to mask my happiness.
“Sometimes,” I mumbled.
That was a lie. All of the time. But I couldn’t say never. Why would I be in therapy then?
“What activities do you like doing?”
This one confused me. “You mean like reading?” I scratched the top of my head.
She nodded enthusiastically, encouraging me. “Yes. What types of books do you like to read?”
I almost blurted out, Night, by Elie Wiesel, but quickly changed my answer to, “Mysteries and such. I like Sue Grafton a lot.”
She made a mark on her paper.
“What type of student are you?”
Again I stared blankly. What did she mean? Was she reading the questions wrong from the paper?
“Do you get good grades? Do you have difficulty concentrating in class?” She motioned with her hand implying etcetera.
“Oh.” I nodded my head, catching on. “I do okay.” Looking at my feet, I determined not to tell her I always got As and that I had a photographic memory. Let her think I was a dunce. The less she knew the better.
“Do you drink or use drugs?” she inquired casually.
Her relaxed tone floored me. Was she trying to trap me? Why would anyone answer truthfully? Was I supposed to say, “Why yes, I’m hardly ever sober. Had four beers on my way here.” Did she think asking me in a tone that implied she didn’t really care and she was cool, would make me confess all?
“No, of course not.” I tried to sound indignant.
Liddy paused, scrutinizing me before jotting something on the check sheet.
“When you are stressed, what helps you relax?”
“I like to take hot baths.” It took a lot of control to stifle a laugh.
She didn’t react. I wanted to shout, “I can’t believe you missed that clue!”
Minutes passed and she apparently finished all the questions. “Well, I think that is enough for today,” Liddy said.
I was dismissed. I felt like a naughty child forced to spend lunchtime in the principal’s office. I stood up and headed for the door.
“One last thing, Paige. What’s it like carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders?”
I turned and replied, “Why don’t you tell me, Doc?”
She laughed, and I bolted.
Chapter Three
I unlocked the door to my dorm room and sniffed around. I wasn’t used to the smell of the past and present occupants of my dormitory. Growing up rich did not prepare me for this stench. How could people live in such filth?
I’d wanted a private room, but my parents refused to fund that expense. They did spring for a room that offered a bathroom accessed by just four girls, instead of a bathroom for an entire floor of girls. I felt that even that was more for show. If their friends found out I was living among the “common folk,” people would talk. I appreciated a more private bathroom, but I still had to live with a roommate and two suitemates. Technically, three roommates. Back home, I had an entire wing of the house to myself. I preferred being alone, and my family preferred not being around me; it worked for all of us. No one in my family spent any time with family members. We were all strangers.
Now I was living with someone I’d only met when I carried my first box into the room. I wasn’t too impressed by said person; neither was she, I think.
Audrey, my roommate, was out for the moment. I eyed the boxes and clothes tossed indiscriminately around the room. Most of my belongings had been put away. Audrey was rushing the sororities, so she didn’t have much time to get organized. From the looks of her boxes, though, she didn’t seem to be a tidy person—another aspect that didn’t dazzle me.
As she rushed into the room, I could feel her smile before I turned around to say hi. Her chipper “Hello” bothered me. I gave her a cool, “Hello” in reply. Not all of us were shiny happy people. She wore a white tee with a yellow skirt. Fucking yellow!
My roommate was several inches shorter than me. Her chocolate brown eyes always looked troubled, and her mousy brown hair hung down her back in a tangled mess. Did she not own a hairbrush, or was it buried in one of her boxes? What kind of sororities was she rushing? That wasn’t my thing, but I can’t imagine too many of them were impressed by such a slob.
“Have you met our suitemates yet? They moved in today.” Her voice squeaked. Mousy hair and mousy voice. Great, I was living with Minnie Mouse.
“Uh, no, I just got back a few minutes ago.” And I wasn’t really up for meeting more people today.
“Come on over with me and let’s introduce ourselves,” chirped Minnie. With a firm grasp on my shirtsleeve, she pulled me through the bathroom door that connected the two rooms. If I’d said no, she probably still would have pulled me the entire way, kicking and screaming. I decided to give in and make a better impression.
I hoped our new neighbors had the foresight to lock their door so we couldn’t bust in on them. They didn’t.
Minnie crashed through the door and screeched, “Hi!”
One of the fathers in the room slipped with a hammer and smashed his thumb. Great! This impression was more memorable than if she had dragged me over kicking and screaming.
A giant blonde slowly approached Minnie, leaving a decent amount of space between them as if she thought she might have to make a quick getaway. I know I wanted to.
“Hi. I’m Jenna Parry. You must be our suitemates.”
She didn’t put her hand out to shake. And I wasn’t thrilled about being lumped in with Minnie. Trust me, I’m not the bubbly type.
“Yep, my name is Audrey Andrews and this is—”
“Paige.” I had my own voice, and I wanted to put some distance between us.
The other girl stepped forward. Again, she didn’t approach too closely. It’s funny how much room you can find in a miniature dorm room when you’re afraid.
“Hi, I’m Karen Cooper.” She moved forward and shook my hand. Then she gingerly reached out to shake Minnie’s. Minnie grabbed it and gave it three hard shakes. Jenna still hadn’t offered her hand to either of us. I was starting to like Jenna.
The four of us inspected each other. Jenna had light hair, almost white. Her deep azure eyes and naturally bronzed skin told me her hair color wasn’t natural. She towered over me. Why wasn’t she in any of my classes in grade school so I wouldn’t have been the tallest girl and teased constantly? Maybe she was on a basketball s
cholarship. Karen had curly red hair, and plenty of it, and was stocky, more the soccer type.
Great, I’m living with Minnie and two jocks. What was the point of the personality test I filled out for the university so they could match me up with people I’d get along with? I never said I liked jocks, or happy shit. Why couldn’t I have a morose roommate who didn’t bother me? Like that girl in The Breakfast Club—the depressed one who ate tons of sugar packets. We would have been great roommates. No talking. And I could share a sugar packet or two to keep things friendly.
“When did you move in?” Karen’s attempt to start a conversation was valiant. I eyed the bathroom door. I wanted to leave the room and forget all about them.
“Yesterday. Paige had to register for classes today, and I came early to rush.” Minnie’s words fell out of her mouth so quickly that I couldn’t help staring at her lips, wondering how she squeaked so fast.
They didn’t seem too surprised that Minnie was the sorority girl type. She had the personality for it, just not the hair. Seriously, what was up with all the tangles?
The four of us stood there, staring. It was excruciating.
Minnie exclaimed, “Have you guys figured out where all of your classes are yet? I never knew this campus was so enormous. I still can’t find my chemistry class.”
I wanted to ask her if she tried the chemistry building that was right across the street from our dorm, but I didn’t.
No one else responded either. Minnie looked at me for help. A few boards came crashing down behind us.
“Do you need any help putting up your lofts? Audrey and I put hers up yesterday and now we’re experts.” I said.
Minnie smiled at me. The night before, we had been up half the night constructing her fucking loft. I think she learned some new words from me. Minnie, the Catholic, was unfortunate enough to get an atheist as a roommate. Did the university even bother to look at our questionnaires?
“Yes, we could use the help.” The answer came from one of the fathers, who was drowning under all of the boards.
A woman put her hand out. “Hi, I’m Karen’s mom.”
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Cooper.” We shook hands.
Marionette Page 2
