It’s just beyond me… Part II
(And it just seems like plain nonsense…)It's just beyond me… Second Session.-Good afternoon doctor, ¿May I come in? Cheers… It's really hot in here! Is the heating on? Thank you… I'm sorry I'm late… I'm afraid I was never a crowd sort of person and getting you office requires quite a bit patience and perseverance to pushing through the masses.
Oh! Yes, I will take a sit down. Is it me or is this chair harder than it usually is? Well, it must be me then!
I hope you've had a lovelly week. Who? Me? Well I can't complain really… but I am going to murder my room mate one of these days because she keeps knicking my things and it drives me bonkers… yes, I know I have to be patient with her doctor but it's not easy to live with someone like Esmeralda whose motto in life is “everything and anything I can lay my paws on is mine”. She is such a…
Oh! Yes, I will take a sit down. Is it me or is this chair harder than it usually is? Well, it must be me then!
I hope you've had a lovelly week. Who? Me? Well I can't complain really… but I am going to murder my room mate one of these days because she keeps knicking my things and it drives me bonkers… yes, I know I have to be patient with her doctor but it's not easy to live with someone like Esmeralda whose motto in life is “everything and anything I can lay my paws on is mine”. She is such a…
What's that? What was I telling you about last week? I haven't got the foggiest… What phone call? I'm afraid I haven't got a clue of what you're going on about…
But don't worry too much about it, it happens to me quite often, you know. For a very long time I couldn’t even remember my own telephone number… imagine that!
When I was a little girl my mother use to write down our home number on the back of my hand just in case I got lost. Which was quite often, by the way, because I use to run off after the ice cream van. I use to do it so often that my parents ended up by not panicking and just going to look for me wherever the Jerry, the ice cream man, was. They usually found me licking away at a lemon lolly, pleased as punch, and telling one of my stories to whoever would listen. Ah, those were the days…
But don't worry too much about it, it happens to me quite often, you know. For a very long time I couldn’t even remember my own telephone number… imagine that!
When I was a little girl my mother use to write down our home number on the back of my hand just in case I got lost. Which was quite often, by the way, because I use to run off after the ice cream van. I use to do it so often that my parents ended up by not panicking and just going to look for me wherever the Jerry, the ice cream man, was. They usually found me licking away at a lemon lolly, pleased as punch, and telling one of my stories to whoever would listen. Ah, those were the days…
Oh, sorry about that. That's the danger of remembering better times… you may loose the grip on reality… specially if its not as nice as it use to be. What was I telling you about?
Again, I haven't got a clue on what you're going on about the telephone! Well, except that one time Martin gave me a phone for my birthday. It was so nice of him to do so! But I must say it slowly became a bit of a nightmare… he had got through one of these point system things and he had made my number one of his favorites so he could call me for free 24/7… and he most certainly did! He called me every day, every hour, on the hour, no matter were I, or he was for that matter. Where,for example? Well, anywhere really, the loo, sleeping, watching the telly,… and all he ever asked was:
“So… what are you up to?”
You may imagine how many unladylike things I use to scream down the telephone after a while, the type of things that need not be repeated in your office… they were so very rude…
Yes, I know expressing your feelings and all that tosh you tell us patients is good for you and what not but I can assure you you wouldn't imagine the type of things I yelled at that poor lad. Well it was HIS fault, no-one in their right mind rings someone up at five o'clock in the morning unless their house is burning down… and then he has the downright cheek to just BREATHE down the phone and not say a word! He just huffed… after 15 minutes of that nonsense I was extremely pissed of… though I must admit he was not at all happy when he found out I ask for a restraining order the very next day… he used to send me flowers every afternoon after that… well, usually it was bouquet of white roses… no, no note or anything, just the white bouquet with a single red rose…
People are weird! And it is quite ironic that so many years afterwords he is my next door neighbor! Good lord doctor, that was more that fifty years ago! I hope he's got over it… it's more than enough time to learn not to be a complete idiot… wouldn't you agree?
Excuse me? Him… in love? with me? Oh, don't be ridiculous! We were friends, well up until he started calling me at insane hours that is. It is true he was use to invite me to tons of stuff, he also use to come to the hairdressers with me and a few other things that didn't seem quite so odd at the time… oh come on, he use to do it with all of his friends!
Well he always a bit weird, you know. Well, there was that one time I was at the cinema watching the latest Amenabar film when the phone rang. It was quite embarrassing, actually, because everyone was really concentrated on the film when the “Ride of the Valkyries” starts roaring at full blast from my mobile… if someone could kill you by just looking at you I swear I would be dead by now. And I would have probably have been murdered slowly and painfully by all those people, specially the cute couple that was sitting just in front of us and who seemed to be the girl's mother. From what I could gather, she had noticed her daughter was there with a boy when she had turned round to complain about the noise. I noticed she had sped off to where her daughter was and they were whispering in a very aggressive tone that seemed to sound more like begging on the daughter's part as the conversation went on. I've always hated the fact that the ruddy phone always has terrible timing. And for some silly reason you never know what to do: you can laugh, blush, apologize, or simply pretend its not your phone ringing and look at people disapprovingly… and then try to discreetly turn the silly thing off as soon as possible. Well, as soon as you find it because it has a knack for the disappearing… Your ring tone always seems ridiculous in this sort of situation… And when you finally do manage to turn the silly thing of you realize the irony of it all… people never call you when you're sitting around doing bugger all or when you are actually waiting for a call, they always have to call either when you are in the shower or in a totally inconvenient situation. And when you do want to pick up the phone, you never seem to catch it before it goes into voice-mail!
Oh, and if you ever want return that call, you realize that you can't because: one, you are out of credit and two, you suddenly remember your friends were over two nights ago and you all got tremendously drunk so you found it tremendously funny to ring up “Medium Ifigenia” and laugh your head off at her extremely inaccurate predictions.
I'm sure it's all some sort of evil plot that wants to drive us all bonkers or kill us off. Honestly doctor, I'm not sure who, I'm not sure where, but I'm sure there are some very nasty and scheming people sitting on leather chairs around an enormous oak table, drinking very expensive brandy who carefully plot these nightmares at the same time as they decide when the next world recession is going to be or who is the next person to be kicked out of Big Brother!
Yes, it would have been so much easier to have switched off my mobile phone.
Anyway, back to what I was telling you about. What was I telling you about? Oh, the cinema! I love the cinema… specially horror films. There many people that moan and complain about them, you know, because they say they don't want to pay to have a bad time watching them… cowards! That's all I can say, they can't understand the rush of adrenaline you get when you watch a good old scary movie.
Well, I went with Peter actually. Yes, the writer. He always was a bit… bohemian. But then people always consider me to be a bit bohemian… they obviously have never met Peter. He loves gore and whatnot (It is a bit of an obsession of his, actually… well, you're the doctor! His parents? Well they use to have an orchard before they moved into town but that's about it!)
They only thing I don't like about horror films is going with a friend to the cinema to watch them. No, not exactly. Its because no matter how many times you've left it quite clear that you're only interested in him as a friend he always tries to take advantage of the scary atmosphere to get a little closer than he should…
When we (finally) got out of the cinema after the film, I realized it was sort of quiet for a Thursday night. I don't know why but cities seem to die every night only to burst with life every morning. We were the only people on the deserted street. Well, except for a poor drunk beggar who was trying to get some sleep in the threshold of a H&R Bank. For some bizarre reason, the tatty old man kept staring at us. I swear he didn't even blink.
Peter and I were debating his latest essay and for some reason my heart was beating out of my chest. Love? Oh, don't be ridiculous and thank goodness for that! He turned out a bit TO bohemian for my liking…not at all my cup of tea. Why do writers always do that? They think to much…
“Where is she?”- In that light I could see that the sun and cold had scarred his tired face.
“Excuse me?”- Peter answered sharply, he disapproved of rude people.
“You told me you would look after her. Don't you remember?”- the old man ignored Peter and kept staring at me.
“I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about…”
“Liar!”- he grabbed me by the arm. It really hurt.- “You told her you would help her! You said you would save her! You…”
“He's insane…”- Peter mumbled, pulling me out of the man's claws- “Leave her alone you drunken idiot!”
“Drunk? Me?”- he laughed- “You don't know what you're saying, boy! Do you know WHO I am? Give me back my daughter!”
“Honestly sir, I'm afraid I can't help you.”- I pleaded.
“Let's go.”
“Please, I'm begging you… where is my daughter?”- He cried.
My heart ached as I felt his pain and despair.
“I'm sorry…”- I mumbled as Peter gently took me away from that man.
“He's out of his mind.”
There, you see doctor, I found myself in yet another strange situation! What was I supposed to say? I could only feel sorry for the old man and Peter could only say very nasty things about him.
“I think we shouldn't leave him on his own…”- my heart was racing and I could hear it thumping in my ears. My muscles cramped and I grabbed Peter's arm in a desperate effort not to fall. Peter stared at me without knowing what to do. He stared into my eyes and said calmly
“I'm sure he'll be …”
The screeching of tires, the howl of a car horn and a crash didn't let him finish his sentence…
Oh, that's my alarm!Yes, that way I know when our session is over… I don't want to overstay my welcome! Thanks again for your patience and understanding. Of course, don't worry, I have tons of things to tell you in our next session. Same time next week? Great, see you then.
Again, I haven't got a clue on what you're going on about the telephone! Well, except that one time Martin gave me a phone for my birthday. It was so nice of him to do so! But I must say it slowly became a bit of a nightmare… he had got through one of these point system things and he had made my number one of his favorites so he could call me for free 24/7… and he most certainly did! He called me every day, every hour, on the hour, no matter were I, or he was for that matter. Where,for example? Well, anywhere really, the loo, sleeping, watching the telly,… and all he ever asked was:
“So… what are you up to?”
You may imagine how many unladylike things I use to scream down the telephone after a while, the type of things that need not be repeated in your office… they were so very rude…
Yes, I know expressing your feelings and all that tosh you tell us patients is good for you and what not but I can assure you you wouldn't imagine the type of things I yelled at that poor lad. Well it was HIS fault, no-one in their right mind rings someone up at five o'clock in the morning unless their house is burning down… and then he has the downright cheek to just BREATHE down the phone and not say a word! He just huffed… after 15 minutes of that nonsense I was extremely pissed of… though I must admit he was not at all happy when he found out I ask for a restraining order the very next day… he used to send me flowers every afternoon after that… well, usually it was bouquet of white roses… no, no note or anything, just the white bouquet with a single red rose…
People are weird! And it is quite ironic that so many years afterwords he is my next door neighbor! Good lord doctor, that was more that fifty years ago! I hope he's got over it… it's more than enough time to learn not to be a complete idiot… wouldn't you agree?
Excuse me? Him… in love? with me? Oh, don't be ridiculous! We were friends, well up until he started calling me at insane hours that is. It is true he was use to invite me to tons of stuff, he also use to come to the hairdressers with me and a few other things that didn't seem quite so odd at the time… oh come on, he use to do it with all of his friends!
Well he always a bit weird, you know. Well, there was that one time I was at the cinema watching the latest Amenabar film when the phone rang. It was quite embarrassing, actually, because everyone was really concentrated on the film when the “Ride of the Valkyries” starts roaring at full blast from my mobile… if someone could kill you by just looking at you I swear I would be dead by now. And I would have probably have been murdered slowly and painfully by all those people, specially the cute couple that was sitting just in front of us and who seemed to be the girl's mother. From what I could gather, she had noticed her daughter was there with a boy when she had turned round to complain about the noise. I noticed she had sped off to where her daughter was and they were whispering in a very aggressive tone that seemed to sound more like begging on the daughter's part as the conversation went on. I've always hated the fact that the ruddy phone always has terrible timing. And for some silly reason you never know what to do: you can laugh, blush, apologize, or simply pretend its not your phone ringing and look at people disapprovingly… and then try to discreetly turn the silly thing off as soon as possible. Well, as soon as you find it because it has a knack for the disappearing… Your ring tone always seems ridiculous in this sort of situation… And when you finally do manage to turn the silly thing of you realize the irony of it all… people never call you when you're sitting around doing bugger all or when you are actually waiting for a call, they always have to call either when you are in the shower or in a totally inconvenient situation. And when you do want to pick up the phone, you never seem to catch it before it goes into voice-mail!
Oh, and if you ever want return that call, you realize that you can't because: one, you are out of credit and two, you suddenly remember your friends were over two nights ago and you all got tremendously drunk so you found it tremendously funny to ring up “Medium Ifigenia” and laugh your head off at her extremely inaccurate predictions.
I'm sure it's all some sort of evil plot that wants to drive us all bonkers or kill us off. Honestly doctor, I'm not sure who, I'm not sure where, but I'm sure there are some very nasty and scheming people sitting on leather chairs around an enormous oak table, drinking very expensive brandy who carefully plot these nightmares at the same time as they decide when the next world recession is going to be or who is the next person to be kicked out of Big Brother!
Yes, it would have been so much easier to have switched off my mobile phone.
Anyway, back to what I was telling you about. What was I telling you about? Oh, the cinema! I love the cinema… specially horror films. There many people that moan and complain about them, you know, because they say they don't want to pay to have a bad time watching them… cowards! That's all I can say, they can't understand the rush of adrenaline you get when you watch a good old scary movie.
Well, I went with Peter actually. Yes, the writer. He always was a bit… bohemian. But then people always consider me to be a bit bohemian… they obviously have never met Peter. He loves gore and whatnot (It is a bit of an obsession of his, actually… well, you're the doctor! His parents? Well they use to have an orchard before they moved into town but that's about it!)
They only thing I don't like about horror films is going with a friend to the cinema to watch them. No, not exactly. Its because no matter how many times you've left it quite clear that you're only interested in him as a friend he always tries to take advantage of the scary atmosphere to get a little closer than he should…
When we (finally) got out of the cinema after the film, I realized it was sort of quiet for a Thursday night. I don't know why but cities seem to die every night only to burst with life every morning. We were the only people on the deserted street. Well, except for a poor drunk beggar who was trying to get some sleep in the threshold of a H&R Bank. For some bizarre reason, the tatty old man kept staring at us. I swear he didn't even blink.
Peter and I were debating his latest essay and for some reason my heart was beating out of my chest. Love? Oh, don't be ridiculous and thank goodness for that! He turned out a bit TO bohemian for my liking…not at all my cup of tea. Why do writers always do that? They think to much…
“Where is she?”- In that light I could see that the sun and cold had scarred his tired face.
“Excuse me?”- Peter answered sharply, he disapproved of rude people.
“You told me you would look after her. Don't you remember?”- the old man ignored Peter and kept staring at me.
“I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about…”
“Liar!”- he grabbed me by the arm. It really hurt.- “You told her you would help her! You said you would save her! You…”
“He's insane…”- Peter mumbled, pulling me out of the man's claws- “Leave her alone you drunken idiot!”
“Drunk? Me?”- he laughed- “You don't know what you're saying, boy! Do you know WHO I am? Give me back my daughter!”
“Honestly sir, I'm afraid I can't help you.”- I pleaded.
“Let's go.”
“Please, I'm begging you… where is my daughter?”- He cried.
My heart ached as I felt his pain and despair.
“I'm sorry…”- I mumbled as Peter gently took me away from that man.
“He's out of his mind.”
There, you see doctor, I found myself in yet another strange situation! What was I supposed to say? I could only feel sorry for the old man and Peter could only say very nasty things about him.
“I think we shouldn't leave him on his own…”- my heart was racing and I could hear it thumping in my ears. My muscles cramped and I grabbed Peter's arm in a desperate effort not to fall. Peter stared at me without knowing what to do. He stared into my eyes and said calmly
“I'm sure he'll be …”
The screeching of tires, the howl of a car horn and a crash didn't let him finish his sentence…
Oh, that's my alarm!Yes, that way I know when our session is over… I don't want to overstay my welcome! Thanks again for your patience and understanding. Of course, don't worry, I have tons of things to tell you in our next session. Same time next week? Great, see you then.
—