Psychiatrists
Sheila Rosenberg opened the door after I rang the doorbell. As soon as she saw me she put on her fake "everything's alright" smile. It made her features look more like a mask than usual. Her red hair had started gaining artificial help years ago and her face enjoyed, or more correctly employed, that same help. She probably was still pretty when she wasn't in her psychiatrist role, but I wasn't sure since she never left her job at the door. "Xander," She said in her soothing patented doctor voice. "It's so good to see you. Willow's up in her room, I'm sure she'll be glad to see you dear." She stepped back to let me in and I quickly passed her. I noticed she didn't ask how I was. More of her free psychiatry, Anthony Harris had been bumming around town for weeks. Even the perpetually oblivious Rosenbergs had to have heard about it. She probably thought I was broken up by my "father's abandonment". It was times like these that made me wonder how Willow grew up to be the person she is.
Her parents were like automatons. They went through all the motions but there wasn't any real life in them anymore. All you had to do was look around their house and you could see that. Everything was tastefully decorated in the styles that were recommended to welcome yet still look professional, and they just made it worse. The cheerful colors and paintings on the walls came straight from a catalogue and were cleaned weekly by a maid. There was nothing to show that anybody "lived" in the house. I was so relieved when I reached Willow's room. I know from past experience that there I would find intelligent life. I took a sort of perverse pleasure in things not being spotless. Too much cleanliness made me think of that saying. "Cleanliness maybe next to Godliness, but more often it's a sign they're coo-coo."
I stood in her doorway bouncing on the balls of my feet. I looked at her sitting cross-legged on her bed all rumpled in her long white and purple- stripped nightshirt and stilled. A smile tried to force it's way into being on my face. She looked like a little girl who'd just woken from her nap. To complete the image she rubbed her eye with her fist and yawned wide enough for me to see the filling she'd gotten in fourth grade. I remember she was so scared of the dentist and I had to reassure her. I showed her all my dental work but in the end had to hold her hand all the way to the waiting room. She cried as they bustled her away and so I convinced the dentist to let me stay with her. That's when I learned if you talk loudly enough and insistently enough you can get away with just about anything, especially if you your speech doesn't make much in the way of sense.
Suddenly I didn't feel so bad.
"Hi, Xander. What's up?"
Sheila Rosenberg opened the door after I rang the doorbell. As soon as she saw me she put on her fake "everything's alright" smile. It made her features look more like a mask than usual. Her red hair had started gaining artificial help years ago and her face enjoyed, or more correctly employed, that same help. She probably was still pretty when she wasn't in her psychiatrist role, but I wasn't sure since she never left her job at the door. "Xander," She said in her soothing patented doctor voice. "It's so good to see you. Willow's up in her room, I'm sure she'll be glad to see you dear." She stepped back to let me in and I quickly passed her. I noticed she didn't ask how I was. More of her free psychiatry, Anthony Harris had been bumming around town for weeks. Even the perpetually oblivious Rosenbergs had to have heard about it. She probably thought I was broken up by my "father's abandonment". It was times like these that made me wonder how Willow grew up to be the person she is.
Her parents were like automatons. They went through all the motions but there wasn't any real life in them anymore. All you had to do was look around their house and you could see that. Everything was tastefully decorated in the styles that were recommended to welcome yet still look professional, and they just made it worse. The cheerful colors and paintings on the walls came straight from a catalogue and were cleaned weekly by a maid. There was nothing to show that anybody "lived" in the house. I was so relieved when I reached Willow's room. I know from past experience that there I would find intelligent life. I took a sort of perverse pleasure in things not being spotless. Too much cleanliness made me think of that saying. "Cleanliness maybe next to Godliness, but more often it's a sign they're coo-coo."
I stood in her doorway bouncing on the balls of my feet. I looked at her sitting cross-legged on her bed all rumpled in her long white and purple- stripped nightshirt and stilled. A smile tried to force it's way into being on my face. She looked like a little girl who'd just woken from her nap. To complete the image she rubbed her eye with her fist and yawned wide enough for me to see the filling she'd gotten in fourth grade. I remember she was so scared of the dentist and I had to reassure her. I showed her all my dental work but in the end had to hold her hand all the way to the waiting room. She cried as they bustled her away and so I convinced the dentist to let me stay with her. That's when I learned if you talk loudly enough and insistently enough you can get away with just about anything, especially if you your speech doesn't make much in the way of sense.
Suddenly I didn't feel so bad.
"Hi, Xander. What's up?"