CONFESSIONS , A CLOSED FILE
This is the answer to a challenge at MGSG : Gio and you. Well, here's mine. Betty & Matt play inactive parts, as does Daniel and Amanda. Some of the GGals are mentioned. I have borrowed a few points from Livia- in admiration.
I turned on the recorder before he entered the room. He knows I'm recording all my appointments, and I like to keep the atmosphere as casual as possible. Like we are two people talking. It's not very professional, I know, but for some time I had been looking forward to his appointments. I wasn't falling in love, but I was attracted to him. Who wouldn't be? He's a neat little package of a man. Well toned body, dimples, dark, dark brown eyes that would chain you to the chair or the glance would drift away, as if he was lost in a fantasy, in a dream you would never enter. I still tried to make my way into those thoughts, dreams, past memories and recent fantasies. These past few weeks I felt we were beginning to make progress. He was opening up, not joking, not hiding behind a lot of smug talk and that brave, handsome face. He looks very young, but is turning on the late twenties. His smooth baby face is all genes. When he's 40 he'll thank for those.
As he entered, thirty seconds late, never more, he placed a brown paper bag on the table next to me. He even opened it to save me the trouble.
"Black and white cookies," he smiled and the whole room turned brighter. "Thought you'd need them. Long week and everything. Considering all the nutters you see on a regular basis, not to mention all the nutters you listen to, I figured you would need some cheering up, Dr Bee, ma'am…"
He has called me Dr Bee since the first appointment. That's not the inscription on my door, but he seemed to have an issue with authorities. I didn't mind being called Dr Bee. Not by him, anyway. And he usually ended it with the polite ma'am. He is a very well behaved young man.
"Thank you, Gio," I said. "That is very thoughtful of you." He is a very thoughtful and caring person – as opposed to the pupils who bring an apple to the teacher just to gain something. He doesn't give to get something in return. He isn't overeager to please. He's just a caring soul. They don't come in flocks these days, I can assure you.
"I think I'll go for the couch today," he said and surprised me by tossing off his shoes before he laid down, folding hands over his chest. "Don't worry, Dr Bee," he smiled and winked an eye naughtily at me. "This is no lit de parade. And I wouldn't dare ask you to join me. I'm just exhausted. My feet ache. It's been a very busy week. You wouldn't believe how much people eat! "
I would. I listen to some of those who overeat. I listen to some who doesn't eat. I listen to those who eat and puke. I know a lot about eating. I eat too. You would guess that by looking at me.
"Business blossoming?" I asked.
"Absolutely," he responded. "Imagine I worried I'd have to close up the deli when she stopped coming, when she made the rest of Mode buy lunch anywhere else…"
I held my breath. I hadn't thought we would come to the point this rapidly. Gio hadn't mentioned her the first five months he came to me. I don't think he had mentioned her name more than a dozen times since then. He referred to her as "she", but I always knew when he talked about her and not any other "she".
"Do you want to talk about Betty today, Gio?" I asked. I hoped my mentioning her name wouldn't clam him up.
"Well, why not? Why shouldn't we discuss sweet Betty?" he asked. I could see his jaws tightening, but his hands stayed surprisingly relaxed. He had great control over his body. I wished he would loosen up more. He said he had been footloose and fancy free and laidback and young at heart only a year or two into the past. My patient Gio Rossi had a time line in his life. BB and AB – Before Betty and After Betty. "She is Sweet Betty these days," he sighed. "I think she has exercised. Or worse: Dieted!" He snorted that. "Must be that freak show Matt Hartley who has put her up to that. Not that he looks like he's exercising. I wouldn't like him to. I tell the guy with the sausage van to stand in the way of Mr. Hartley. Stuff him with unhealthy food and weaken his heart. One day he keels over… Or maybe the sausage van's breaks fail one day and the van just rolls over Poor Rich Boy – squeezing him all over the pavement. Do I have a soul black as sin because I want Mr. Rich Guy Matt dead?"
"Thoughts don't harm anyone as long as you don't act upon them," I said in my professional voice. "And you don't act, Gio. You just think. Now you express those thoughts. That is very brave of you. That is very good for you."
"Now, now, Dr Bee!" He opened his eyes and looked straight at me. "Don't you talk to me just like you talk to those other nut cases and fruit baskets that rest on your couch – you know I'm nothing like them, Dr Bee ma'am! I'm just an ordinary guy who has problems with close relations. Quote your fine self, ma'am."
He had a few other problems, but I don't discuss with my patients. I'm the professional. And it wouldn't be right of me to list those other issues here. There is that thing called doctor-patient-confidentiality.
"You said you were ready to talk about Betty." I carefully lead him back on track. "Later, if you are up to it, you can of course share your thoughts on Mr. Hartley with me as well."
"That would have to be a double session," he commented with a grin. "He isn't one of his patients too?"
"You know I can't reveal that, Gio," I replied.
"Well if he isn't, he sure would need talking to you. At least twice a week. A couple of years. But I doubt you would be able to fix him – and I reckon you must be one of the best shrinks who ever walked the planet. But then again – it would be a conflict of interest if you were to take him in as well, since you're my head analyst, Dr Bee. I wouldn't like you to be unfaithful. I sure wouldn't like that. I couldn't come here and pour out my heart if you let him do the same. That would be Betty all over again. You know what I'm saying here?"
I knew. I had had doubts taking him as my patient as he had such difficulties trusting women, but Archie Wentworth, the male colleague of mine he'd been recommended was an alpha male if you ever saw one. Gio – another extreme alpha male, and Archie had clashed within 10 minutes of the first appointment – and my distinguished and very handsome colleague had begged me to take over his patient. I don't usually say yes and jump every time an alpha male ask or order me to do this or that, but I am easily challenged. And Archie has a habit of rewarding generously whenever I do him a big favor. It was a win-win situation. I guess I swallowed the bait and the line all in one. I had one look at the patient before I answered as well. Sweet Archie know of my weaknesses. He's very good at what he does. He's very good at everything he does. I'm a professional, but I have eyes. This Giovanni Rossi was a looker. He had tight jeans. What he showed off wasn't bad. I don't mind looking at a hunky and handsome and charming patent for a change. If he turned out to be a psychopath, I reckoned I could take it from there. So far I haven't recognized anything violent in Gio. He talks a lot about hurting Matt Hartley in various ways, even about killing him, but it is all talk.
"Betty…" I said.
"Betty is very skinny these days," Gio said, back on track. "A Mode Girl. I never wanted her to be a Mode Girl. I detest Mode Girls. I really don't like women who are unable to enjoy what life has to offer. I guess she dresses better than she used to. The other day she walked past my deli and I swear I didn't recognize her before all I could see was that skinny a… rear. It was her walk I recognized, can you believe that? And she didn't wear socks in her shoes. She didn't wear anything orange or fuchsia or lime. She wore something beige. When she returned – I just had to wait for her to return, right? – well, she had picked her brows. And she had new glasses. I think she had removed the braces. She is changing, and I wondered who she is changing for…" His face showed pain.
"Does it matter?" I asked. "Do you have any idea of why she is changing?"
"Can't be for herself," Gio muttered. "She never does anything for herself. She doesn't dare to. She is the born assistant, I don't care that she is an editor these days. She still jumps at her boss's every command."
"You know that for a fact?" I couldn't help asking. He sometimes needed help to keep real life and fiction apart.
"I imagine," he eventually answered. "Betty likes those rich boys. I often wonder if she'd like me if I were rich…"
"Is that what drives you?"
"Nope. Rich Gio would date supermodels. Show her. I know it's childish. I'd do that for a while, and then I'd settle down. And I could not settle down with her – if she waited that long to pick me. If she came after Rich Gio, I would never be able to trust her."
"Would you ever be able to trust her?"
He didn't respond.
"Who do you trust?"
"Name 5 people you trust, Dr Bee? That a quiz from Facebook?" As I didn't answer, he had to fill the silence. "I trust my mother. " He had problems picking more than his mother. "OK, Dr Bee ma'am – I trust you. For what it's worth. I'm a sorry son of a gun, huh? My accountant. Now that's three people for you."
Some didn't even have a mother to trust.
"You know, I never figured she'd be able to ignore me for more than a week," he said. "I never saw this coming. Betty, she loves to eat. I didn't expect her to miss me – but I was sure she'd miss my sandwiches, I even added her idea of a reasonable amount sundried tomatoes to those for months after she sort of ditched me. I hoped she'd come for the cookies. I came up with new recipes. Italian cakes. I kept the door open so the scents would reach her – but she didn't come. And then her colleagues stopped coming. And next this letter Daniel had signed – saying they didn't want me to sell lunch in their building. I'm sure he signed because she asked him to do that. She could make him do anything, you know, Dr Bee. I tried to talk to him for days – but he always avoided me. Crossed the street if he saw me, had the limo roll up and disappeared behind those dark windows before I reached him. Amanda hung up if I phoned Mode. I never got through. And nothing was better when Rich Boy numero duo entered the stage. She grossed me out big time when she started sucking face with Rich Boy just outside my deli. What did she hope to achieve? Did she think she could drive me away from the premises? Seriously – I'd do anything – short of killing – unless we speak Rich Boy, to keep my deli. Luckily Meade's don't own the premises. Never do Hartley's. I have a long term lease. Italian connections. And don't you think 'Tony Sopranoe' now, Dr Bee! She'll never drive me away!"
"But she got that restraining order…"
"It was silly of me to drag her into the deli and lock the door – at lunch hour. Lots of witnesses…" he understood the joke did nothing. This was not telling stories at some party. He couldn't entertain me like he entertained his mates. "I didn't want to scare her. She wasn't really scared. I just talked. She listened. It was that idiot boyfriend, Rich Boy, who phoned the police. Daniel would never have phoned the police."
"What do you think about Betty's relationship to other men?" I like trotting into mine fields. He wouldn't harm me. He might be angry, but I didn't think he'd turn against me. He hadn't really kidnapped Betty. He had wanted to talk to her and things had gone out of hand. Matt Hartley could have coped with the situation in at least a dozen better ways than the one he chose.
"Betty is an idiot with men," Gio said. "She never recognizes a good thing when it's within reach to grab. You know – I would have accepted it if she chose Grubstick over me. I respected Grubstick."
Respect was vital in Gio's life. Respect was good.
"I dreamt of him the other night," Gio confessed. A smile warmed his voice. "I dreamt I was hiking in the Andes. And there he was – Henry. Out of nowhere. Imagine – meeting Henry Grubstick in the Andes! I can still see his stiff wave, his robot walk, that toothpaste ad smile. I think we accepted that we had been rivals – and that she had chosen none of us. I think we liked each other in that dream…"
"You dream of Matt?"
"No." Gio clammed up. "I don't dream of her. I don't remember many dreams. My mother wants me to date other women."
"She does?"
"Not many candidates though," he grinned. "That kidnapping story isn't doing much good for me. Jail time isn't something to brag about when you try to impress possible mothers-in-law. Matt Hartley robbed my mother of grandchildren when he called those cops! Not easy to get a date when the women think you are insane. Maybe I should start hanging in your waiting room, Dr Bee. The women who come here could find a kidnapper a challenge. We would have insanity in common. Mutual interests… "
"If you start picking up women here, I can't have you as a patient anymore." I knew some of my female patients would throw themselves over him were they just allowed. Women can be scary. I had some patients who were overly obsessed by tight jeans. They were crotch watchers. They discussed male rear sides, six packs, tanned muscular male shoulders. Some would discuss hairstyles for hours. Male hairstyles. They would discuss what they would like to do to men they obsessed over, whether they knew them or the objects were actors or anyone else in the entertainment industry. Gio would be a piece of male candy- he'd be soft toffee in the hands of patients like Maggie or Lynnie or the strong willed twins, Beatrice and Livia. He would even have to run for it if he met the shy to the eye, Scottish teenager Rachael. I didn't want to think of what Foxy, with her detailed violent fantasies, could do to my somewhat innocent patient, 3rd generation Italian stud, Giovanni Rossi. On second thought Foxy could have been a good match for Gio. She would probably turn against any other woman who gave him a glance or two. Hopefully she wasn't carrying those kitchen knives in her purse. We have spent weeks talking those knives back to her kitchen. I imagined Nena and Juna and a dozen more of my wonderful, but somewhat troubled patients, competing for Gio's attention. He needed protection. There were reasons why I always had Gio coming as my last patient on Fridays.
Talking to me was part of his kidnapping sentence. Betty Suarez had minimized the seriousness of the event. She had been a doll in court, but Gio had to do time of course. All thanks to Matt Hartley. He had been out of jail for almost a year now. He was coping well. He was a model citizen. With a few issues we tried to work on. The deli had survived because his mother had stepped in. No wonder why he trusted his mother. As soon as he had done his time, she stepped back and allowed him to take over. He had feared people would stay away from his deli – but only the Mode people had.
"Do you want to start dating other women, Gio? Are you ready for that?"
"Am I over Betty?" He let that sink. "It never was real – and that's harder to get over than anything else, Doc Bee. Don't you agree?"
"I see this is hard for you. But you are doing great. I'm proud of you. You haven't tried to approach her this week. You are fighting the power she has over you. You don't allow her that power anymore. You are your own person, Gio."
He nodded. Accepted. Or told me what I wanted to hear. Every time he left I wondered if we had changed anything at all, if we really were making progress or if he was a splendid actor. He could be. I never knew who I saw when I looked into those dark brown eyes.
"I won't go near her this weekend, Dr Bee," he promised and sat up – as always his inner clock told him when our session was over. "I will be a good boy. I won't phone her. I won't stalk her. I won't go near that snake Skinny Legs Hartley. I won't spend all weekend thinking of her. I'm trying, you know."
"I can't ask for more, Gio," I said.
"You have a fine weekend, Dr Bee," Gio smiled. "And enjoy those biscuits. Maybe you could share them with Dr Wentworth? He seems to burn more calories by just being than you, Dr Bee ma'am, no offence! Some people think those biscuits are an inspiration – in the romantic sense." He winked an eye and grinned. "Not that I think that the good doctor across the corridor needs much inspiration. He has naughty eyes. You noticed?"
I had. Giovanni Rossi laughed when he left my office. That's what I told the police. It appears I was the last person to see Gio. He walked out my office door one late Friday afternoon and disappeared. I like to think he is hiking in the Andes, maybe accompanied by Henry Grubstick. He disappeared a few days later.
Betty tried to get an appointment with me. I'm afraid I turned her down. I don't think I would be able to fix her. She's too twisted. And call me unprofessional if you want to, but I think the inner pain suits her.