Her Madness

Toast with jam. Every morning that she could remember for her 35 years, it was toast

with jam. Sitting at the kitchen table scanning a copy of the New York Times Valerie put her feet up onto an empty chair across from her. She was still wearing a satin robe even though the car was waiting downstairs and she still hadn’t put on any lipstick. Her hair was thick and black, her skin a Moroccan olive and body built like a Norwegian tennis player. She was a ‘babe’ as her ‘soon to be ex’ husband would say. It was true, she was stunning.

This was how it went every morning, she loved stretching out as the sun rose as if she had no intent on going anywhere or doing anything. Today’s sunrise was bleak, the kind of day where you could anticipate a merciless bitter cold just by the particular shade of grey in the sky.

Windows aligned all the walls in her kitchen, a rare thing for a Manhattan apartment unless you were on Park ave which is where she happened to be. Outside she had a full view of an elitist Chanel storefront, she sometimes watched in the early hours after midnight as the designers installed the epic window displays. It was almost erotic to see the nude beginnings of something that would later result in a faithful flood of impressed shoppers. Like getting a glimpse of the virgin Mary before her dress came on. She watched and she felt mighty proud of herself, for living where she did and for looking like she did. That was just the kind of person she was, and if she had any trouble falling asleep at night she’d just fix herself a strong drink and that usually did the trick.

There was only one other tenant on her apartment floor - Betty. True to her name, she couldn’t be more insufferable. Just as Valerie locked the apartment door and flipped her blow dried hair over her winter coat Betty popped her head out of her apartment with a diseased mutt that she called ‘sweetheart’ at her heels.

“Valerie, good morning! How are you? I know, Mondays right?”

She was bubbling over with so much happiness it was cringeworthy. Luckily Valerie’s rolling eyes were hidden behind black thick Ray-Bans. She nodded a half smile and they both got in the elevator.

“Little Lisa-Loo-Loo Sweetheart needed to go potty twice already this morning, can you believe this is already our third trip downstairs?”

Valerie wasn’t sure who Betty was talking to, her or the dog. She smiled and laughed anyway just to be safe. Finally the doors open and she was free. Another smile to the doorman, for him she didn’t mind. This was a new doorman (she didn’t remember the name) who just started a few weeks ago and was actually rather attractive. Beauty was a sure fire way to earn Valerie’s respect. Unless of course, you were better looking than her, in which case, you had better stay clear.

This biting cold January morning was like every other, the black cab was parked waiting across the street. The inside smelt like fresh leather, in fact, it must smell that way. She paid extra for it. She also paid extra for the driver to keep quiet. No questions about how did she sleep, how is her day so far, etc etc, just nod and drive. After she slides in, black Gucci heels falling in line behind her, she slammed the car door and they took off.

She reached into a cooler that rests between the seats and took out a bottled iced coffee. The cooler was always full, every time she took out a bottle it was replaced with another by the time she gets back in the car. She paid extra for that.

She watched out the window as she drank and lit a cigarette. Nobody respected a smoker anymore these days, she really couldn’t understand what happened to the world. Well, not the world really, just Manhattan.

Winter rain falls on the window, all the better she thought. Today she had to see Neil. Oh how she hated Neil. Insufferable, nagging, god forsaken Neil. An unbelievably useless human being taking up more space with an unbelievably useless life. So with that, it might as well be raining.

Valerie couldn’t stand to look at her phone until she was at the office (everyone in her life annoyed the hell out of her.) So the leather case vibrating with notifications usually went unnoticed along with the dozens of emails from colleagues and associates asking her for lunch to ’touch base.’ She hated email society, the language of it all was enough to infuriate her. When her secretary said she was going to ‘loop her in’ on an email Valerie wanted to punch her in the face. Sabrina knew better now. She was a silly thing but she managed to keep everyone at bay and keep Valerie out of the loop. Unfortunately for Valerie, the harder she was to reach, the more desirable her company became. This was troublesome at first, but Valerie would soon learn the power of being a mystery. People wanted more and when they got what they didn’t expect, nothing else was more enjoyable than the look of shock on their faces.

Her office was in a century old three story townhouse, red brick and candlelight entrances on either side. The car stopped out front of the black gate and the driver came around to her door with an open umbrella. She slipped her hands around the umbrella and watched the towering gate as it opened in front of her.

In those few seconds she always thought the same thing, that this may be her favourite part of the day. Somehow it was if the rest of the world became quiet and in the weight of the silence that was left, her presence was the highest priority. Gates opened, like the parting of the Red Sea, and she flipped her black leather bag over her shoulder and marched her heels forward. It was time to begin.

Inside the building it was another elevator and more nodding smiles. She found this a tad exhausting but hadn’t figured out a solution yet. Wear a large hat? Make everyone in the lobby start later in the day? But then she would see them at lunch and the nods and smiles would resume. There was no way around it she concluded, at least for now.

Finally she was at the office, second floor. Sabrina, natural red hair and unpleasantly skinny, was already sitting at the front desk and stood up when Valerie entered. Good, Valerie thought. She can probably keep her job this week. Sometimes she liked to play a game in her head, would Sabrina win her job this week or not?

“The mayor is on the phone, it’s about the article, in the Post.”

She held up the front page of the New York Post, the headline read ‘CURED BY THERAPY?’ Sabrina looked exhilarated. As probably anyone could guess by looking at the massive grin on her face, she had never talked to a mayor on the phone before. Valerie removed her sunglasses and headed straight towards her office.

“I’ll call him back.”

Sabrina wasn’t expecting this, she looked down at the phone which had obviously been flashing the red hold light for several minutes.

“It’s about the article....”

“Yes you said that already.” Valerie unlocked her office door.

“Should I get his number? I think he’s really happy about it!”

Obviously he was happy about it, Valerie thought as she kicked off her one inch heels and changed into higher pumps. Any married man who was caught sending ‘sensitive’ texts to unseemly younger women and thought to be a sexual predator in the eyes of an entire nation would be happy about appearing cured of his promiscuous ways.

Valerie shut the door, Sabrina would figure it out she guessed. And if she doesn’t, well, she doesn’t. There was a whole day of therapy ahead of her that she had to deal with. Sabrina would likely whine and complain, maybe she would ask for another raise again. Last year she claimed she deserved the salary of a ‘personal assistant’. Hilarious. Valerie gave her the a small raise (good on her for asking) but reminded her that she was a glorified receptionist, nothing more.

Now to begin. A whole day of listening patiently, taking notes, seeing what others can’t see. Solutions for patients seemed so obvious after decades of training and experience, the more obvious they seemed the less she enjoyed pointing them out. The answer was already clear, but now to get the patient to the realization, slowly, beat by beat. They strayed off the path and she brought them back, until hopefully, by the end of the session, there was clarity. She was the Shepherd of their Consciousness. That was the goal but the truth was, it usually didn’t work out that way.

The reality was that it felt never-ending. ‘I don’t know why I had that dream...I don’t know why I see my mother in him...I can’t figure out why it made me so angry when she said that…’ Round and round it went. Nonsensical ramblings with no attempt at actual logical thought towards them. And did it even really matter? How effective were these sessions anyway? (Apparently pretty effective, according to her reputation and salary. ) But something told her that deep down inside, no matter how many $400/hour psychiatry sessions, people tended to generally stay the same and never change.

This was the attitude that carried her through Neil’s session, lunch, and the rest of her patients that day. By the time the winter sun started to set she had switched heels, consoled Sabrina’s anxieties, and provided all of the nods and smiles bearable for one day. Returning home to the apartment it was no surprise to find Maxwell packing his things, likely hoping he could get out before she returned.

Maxwell was stunning, ten years her senior, tall and caucasian with thick blond hair that he wrapped perfectly behind his ears when he was nervous. For a Psychology Professor at Columbia University, Valerie found him a tad dull, but that was just her personal opinion. They were married but he rarely spent the night. He used to, back when they first got together. They were a perfect pair, in many ways they still were. They didn’t expect much from each other, and because of that there was no reason to lie.

“Where to tonight?”

Valerie asked as she tossed her keys onto the table and took off her coat.

“I may be gone for a couple of days. I meet with the lawyer tomorrow.”

“Oh?”

Valerie fell back onto the leather recliner in the living room and wrapped a fur blanket around her shoulders. She and Maxwell had been talking about divorce off hand for many years, meeting with the lawyer was nothing new. Maybe a step in the right direction.

“Sounds like a plan, keep me posted.”

Maxwell walked towards her.

“If you want to say anything, now is the time Valerie.” She looked up at him skeptically.

“Something about...what exactly?”

He turned back towards his duffel bag.

“Well for starters how about Wyatt? You didn’t text me back about tonight. Can you watch him or no? He’s at Olivia’s now.” Olivia was his mother, Wyatt was their son. Small details.

“I am very busy tonight, you know that.”

Valerie released the lever on the recliner sending her feet up into the air. He turned towards her.

“Right. Well. I suppose you don’t want to talk about any of his progress then? Despite the disability Olivia thinks the doctors are over exaggerating everything. Apparently today he did very well. We’re thinking he is really ready for school, the next grade.”

He looked at her hopefully, so wide eyed and naive.

“Maybe.” She responded doubtfully.

Valerie got out of the chair and walked towards his pile of socks piled on the dining table. She stuffed them in the duffel bag and zipped it closed.

“Or maybe we just need to take it one day at a time, have reasonable expectations.” She tosses the bag towards him.

Maxwell puts his hand on Valerie’s shoulder, she stares at it for a moment and then turns away heading towards the kitchen to prepare a coffee.

“Valerie he’d love to see you. I was hoping today would work. Tomorrow? This week? Olivia can handle it but you know how he is. He misses his mom.”

Valerie put the coffee pot down and turned to him.

“Yes Maxwell, this week. I can’t wait to see him, you know that.”

He picked up his duffel and jacket and headed towards the door.

“Alright well, see you later.”

Valerie allowed the silence to swallow up the moments in which he waited for her to respond. She stood in the kitchen and was still as he left and the door shut behind him.