Masked Intentions

2

2

I was in the bathroom shaving when the doorbell rang. Toby answered in my robe. Carrie must have had a strange look on her face because Toby said, “It’s not what you think it is.”

Carrie, my best friend, walked inside. “You can’t possibly think I’m picturing you and Grant.” She laughed. “I’ve known him my whole life.”

“My mistake. My discomfort. I see a pretty woman and I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m Toby.” he offered his hand.

She shook it. “Carrie. That pretty woman line will get you far.”

“I’ll be right out, Carrie,” I shouted.

“Did you remember you’re following me to the car place?”

“I didn’t forget,” I said, entering the room and tightening the knot on my tie. I turned to Toby. “Your suit should be delivered around ten. The door will lock when you close it. You’re welcome to join us for lunch. Bobby, who I told you about, is bringing in his homemade meatballs. The address is on the card I gave you. It’s a nice walk.”

“I’ve been doing a lot of walking the last few days. And, thanks for the loan and for all your generosity.”

“Glad I could help.”

I got into my car and followed Carrie who brought her car in for service. I filled her in on Toby as we drove to the office. “You joining us for lunch?”

“I wouldn’t miss it. I want to hear the next chapter of Toby’s story.”

My office was in a commercial neighborhood at the edge of downtown Seattle. I rented the upstairs of a Victorian house, handsomely painted in mauve and mahogany, from Carrie’s father, attorney Mike McBride. Carrie practiced law with her father. She went into her office while I slowly mounted the steps to mine, acutely aware of the music emanating from the office. Then I remembered Bobby was subbing for Grace, my regular secretary who had taken ill. Bobby believed soft music helped relax patients in the waiting room. Since I didn’t have any strong feelings one way or the other I gave him permission to select music that was soothing and not depressing.

When I entered the office I didn’t expect to see Bobby dancing with Gloria, my first patient. Gloria, an attractive statuesque woman with flaming, red hair that cascaded beyond her shoulders, insisted on being my first patient of the day when scheduling her appointments. Somehow, she equated first with favorite and would rather delay her appointment than come in at a different time. She wore a snug lime t-shirt, tight dark green, pencil skirt, and heels. Gloria was a long term patient who I’d been trying to get to tone down her sexuality. She needed to learn how to use her many other assets, rather than her sexuality, to attract men. She was not as blatant as she had been initially but still had miles to go.

I cleared my throat drawing their attention. “I didn’t know this was a dance studio.”

Bobby turned red and immediately dropped his arms to his side.

Gloria curved her lips into a broad smile. “Did you forget I’m taking ballroom dancing? My class was last night and Bobby was gracious enough to be my practice partner. Like anything else, practice makes perfect. Perhaps you’d like the next dance?”

“Dance class has just ended.” I gave Bobby a look and entered my office.

Moments later Bobby came in. “Sorry, Grant, it’s hard to turn her down.”

“I can imagine.” I smiled. “Don’t worry about it. But no more dancing.”

He nodded and left. Gloria was hard to resist. She had tried to seduce me during our earlier sessions. It took a lot of willpower to overcome my countertransference feelings and respond appropriately professional. Had I given in, not only would I have been unethical and damaging, but I would have confirmed her convictions about relating to men.

Gloria’s appointment went better than expected. She told me about a man she met at dance class she was dating, and had many concerns she needed to air.

I finished with my last morning appointment shortly after noon. When I arrived in the conference room Carrie and Toby were gathered around Bobby who was cutting rolls for the meatball sandwiches. The spicy, mouth-watering scent surfacing from the crockpot filled the room. Dressed in his neatly pressed suit Toby looked like a prosperous businessman. He seemed to be holding court, reciting amusing stories and captivating his audience.

“Bobby’s in his last year of Chef School,” I said. “I’ve had his meatballs. You won’t be disappointed.”

“I’m salivating already,” Toby said. “What school?”

“Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts,” Bobby said.

“I heard he’s thinking of dance school,” Carrie said, retrieving the plates and silverware.

I rolled my eyes.

“I thought I might also enroll,” Toby said, “after Bobby described the instructor.”

I looked at Bobby. “Ever hear about patient confidentiality?”

“I didn’t name names,” Bobby said, as he filled the rolls with meat.

“It stays here,” Toby said. “Anybody a fan of Jacqueline Summerfield?”

“I read something of hers a couple of years ago.” Carrie said. “I don’t remember the title. Romance suspense generally is not my thing, but I thought it was well done. I have so little time for fiction. I’m forced to hit the law books so I rarely read to unwind. I gravitate to the TV. I’m amazed at how prolific she is. She puts out a book -- a best-seller–every few months.”

“She has an army of assistants now. They do much of the preliminary work. I’m not a reader of her genre either but I hear her automation–if I can call it that–has resulted in inferior books, but everything she puts out still becomes a best-seller. Her fan base is that great.”

The meatballs were scrumptious. We all stuffed ourselves.

I had an opening in my afternoon schedule and offered it to Toby. He declined, wanting to keep our relationship on a friendly basis, and instead, got me to agree to meet him for a drink this evening. He asked to see my office.

My office is large and comfortable with a desk on one end for busy work and formal authoritarian interviews, or when needing a protective barrier from extremely hostile patients, and an intimate seating arrangement on the other end, anchored by a burgundy couch and a couple of side chairs where I did most of my therapy. I sat on a side chair as Toby shuffled over the soiled pathway on the gray Berber carpeting, reminding me to have it cleaned, to check out my wall-hung movie posters: Ordinary People, One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Primal Fear, and A Beautiful Mind.”

“Russell Crowe won an Oscar for that role,” he said, pointing to A Beautiful Mind.

“A nomination,” I corrected.

“You ever see David and Lisa? About two schizophrenics in an asylum. I saw it years ago but it stuck with me ‘cause I knew a guy like David. You could hang it with the rest.”

“Good movie. I do know it. I don’t have that one but I do have several other posters that I rotate. If I hang more than four posters my office will look like Sony Studios.”

He laughed. “You have a nice office. Suitable for therapy no doubt.” He sunk down onto the sofa, tapped the cushions with his hands. “People lay down?”

“No.” I swallowed, flashing back a time Megan and I used the couch. She wasn’t a patient. Still, we shouldn’t have made love in my office.

“I hope you’re not hurt that I turned down your offer for therapy. I could certainly use a therapist but I need a friend more.”

“No problem. I need friends, too.”

He suggested a bar where we would meet later.

Bobby came into my office near the end of the day with a grin on his face. “Toby’s a fun guy isn’t he? Doesn’t seem like the same guy we picked off the street.” He plopped down on the chair in front of my desk. “We did a good thing.”

I smiled and nodded, returned to the file on my desk.

“I got a favor to ask.”

“No, you can’t be Gloria’s dance partner.”

He laughed. “Let me know if you change your mind. Seriously, I have a friend at school. He’s older and a natural. He’d make a great chef, but he may have to drop out because of the problems he’s having in his marriage. I told him that, maybe, you could help him.”

“Have him call for an appointment. You can schedule him in.”

“Um.” Bobby scratched his head. “He doesn’t have any insurance.”

“Oh. I see.” I placed the file back into the drawer, focused on Bobby. “You want me to do a pro bono.”

Bobby flushed, shrugged his shoulders.

“Sure. Set him up with an appointment. I’ll take it from there.”

“Gee, thanks.” Bobby stood up beaming and left the office.