Intensive Therapy Part 8

"Look. I don't have time."

"Make time. It's important."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure your feelings about Leslie are important." Dr. Speller leaned forward and removed his gla.s.ses. "Look, Victoria. It's crunch time with your bio course, and this person has been trying to help you. But something's gotten in the way of your accepting it. Finals are in two weeks. Our last session before winter break is next Thursday. We don't have time to f.u.c.k around!"

"Don't yell at me."

"If I raised my voice, it was only for emphasis."

"I don't like it when you do that. It makes me think of her."

"I had to get your attention."

"Well you did, all right. What do you want me to do?"

"What we always do. Like when we work on dreams. Your job is to say your thoughts about Leslie without censoring them, just as they go through your mind."

"Suppose there isn't enough time today?"

"Then we'll find time later."

"I thought sessions were only Mondays and Thursdays."

"Therapy is supposed to fit your needs, not just my schedule. Let's get going and see how far we get today. Tell me about this person."

"She's older than me, around your age. She dresses in faded jeans and sweaters that look like they come from J. C. Penney. I picture Leslie changing her own motor oil. She looks like she spends time outdoors. I think she's tougher than me, that she could beat me up if she wanted to."

"Why would she want to do that?"

"I don't know. You asked me to say what's on my mind. That's what I was thinking."

"That's fair. She's intimidating?"

"She turns me off."

"Is it that she's stronger than you? Or does she remind you in some way of Lorraine?"

"We're going down the wrong path," Victoria said. "This isn't about being scared of Leslie. I could figure out how to change my oil if I had to. It's something else." Victoria mulled over her thoughts. "I've got it. It's not about her; it's about being with her."

"Good. What comes to mind when you think of being with her?"

"Annoyed."

"Annoyed?"

"I know she's smart. How else could she be a doctor and a researcher? Here's the thing. She talks so slowly and so methodically, I just want to scream, 'Hurry up and get to the point!' So, my mind wanders, and I tune in and out. I only hear bits and pieces of what she's saying."

"Like when a record skips?"

"It's more than that. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of conversations and can't remember what was happening. People like Leslie bore me, and I get snippy with them."

"Well, whether or not she likes you, she's definitely interested in you."

"How do you know that?"

"I hear it in the way you describe her. She wouldn't have asked to help if she was indifferent."

"Maybe she feels sorry for me."

"That's your default position," Dr. Speller said. They'd been over that before, how Victoria fell back on automatic a.s.sumptions when she wasn't sure what something meant. "It sounds like she takes pride in her teaching and wants her students to do well. But the fact is you don't know why she's interested in you."

"That's true. I don't like the feeling of not knowing."

"Here's what I think," Dr. Speller said. "Your mind works very fast, Victoria. Lorraine and you go back and forth lickety-split. Not every time, though, because she's not always in the mood. You, however, usually are in the mood, so you look for that kind of interaction. Are you with me so far?"

"I'm trying. Keep going."

"Those rapid-fire back-and-forths have become the standard against which you judge whether a conversation is interesting."

"That's true. The content doesn't matter that much; it's how we're talking."

"Exactly. It's about engaging each other's minds, but not everyone's mind works like yours. Having a quick mind is good when you're problem solving, but it gets in the way when you rush to judgment about people. People like Leslie have something to offer, too. You know, someone could be smart and interesting even if they speak more slowly than you. They might even say something worthwhile," Dr. Speller said, t.i.trating his sarcasm carefully.

"You know, that's how my mother gets with me. She's impatient. I guess I treat people that way, too."

"You guess?"

"You're right. I do treat people like that," Victoria admitted.

"That wasn't so bad, was it-working it out together?"

Victoria flushed, her body warm, almost glowing. "I'm feeling weird, now. Something I never felt before." She described the heat on her face and skin.

"It's called warmth. You liked what I had to say."

Victoria felt warm down to her toes. "Well, whatever it is, I want more!"

"You know you could get used to it," he teased.

"What's happening to me?"

"Well, not wanting to get into clinical mode ..." They laughed. "I'd say you're getting desensitized to intimacy."

Her eyes moistened.

He said, "It's waiting for you, even with Leslie. I hear it in how you describe her. You're not some charity case; she genuinely likes you. 'Warm' and 'like,' they're all around you. Give it a try, okay?"

"Okay," Victoria said through tears for which there were no words.

16.

As soon as she returned from the session, Victoria called Leslie Kilway, who agreed to meet the next morning. Leslie had already staked out a table in the student union by the time Victoria arrived.

Notes and textbook in hand, Victoria said, "Thanks so much. How much time do we have?"

"No hurry," Leslie said. "I'm free until my three o'clock meeting with the chairman of the research committee. What would you like to cover?"

"I can't wrap my head around photosynthesis and the Krebs cycle."

"Photosynthesis is how plants capture and store the sun's energy," Leslie offered, diving right in.

"And the Krebs cycle?"

"That's inside the part of cells called mitochondria. Think of the Krebs cycle as a refinery that converts potential energy into a usable form.

"And DNA?"

"DNA codes for the proteins that make cells work."

"Proteins?"

Leslie flinched. "I think you need more than just definitions. Let's start at the beginning."

"It's that bad?" Victoria said.

"Well ..." Leslie sighed, rolling up her sleeves as if she were about to tackle a lab experiment. Except for a ten-minute break at 11:00 AM, they worked together for the next five hours. Leslie wouldn't give up until Victoria understood that photosynthesis captured the sun's energy to build hydrocarbon molecules, without which life would be impossible. Leslie didn't stop until Victoria could conceptualize, not just memorize.

The following Wednesday, Leslie concocted a mock final for the cla.s.s. Victoria came away confident she could eke out a B. "I can't thank you enough," she told Leslie on her way out. "The way you stuck with me until I got it. I never had a teacher who was so patient."

"I knew you could do it. I enjoyed the challenge of figuring out how to help you understand. Besides, you hung in there the whole time. Most people would have given up. Talk about determination; that was impressive. Hey," Leslie added, "would you like to have pizza with me and some friends tonight?"

"Really? Aren't they all older researchers? What could I say that's interesting?"

"Don't sell yourself short. You know literature and philosophy. We're so into science we lose sight of the rest of the world. We're meeting at seven at Sam's Pizzeria on Pine Street. I'll pick you up, okay?"

"You know, I'd like to walk around Society Hill first, since it's close to Sam's. I'd enjoy some company."

"Sure. Should be fun," Leslie smiled. "I'll get you at six."

That evening, as they walked past a contemporary house on Seventh and Spruce, Victoria said, "This place looks like a giant refrigerator.

Some discount appliance store must have dragged this monstrosity here and plugged it in."

"That's so funny; I love how you put things," Leslie laughed. "Like when you said your English professor's muttonchops and tweed suits make him look like a dehydrated cell membrane. You crack me up."

Victoria felt a ripple of warmth rise through her spine. "You have to admit this building is atrocious. The city should demand demolition or face charges of abetting cultural depravity."

Soon the girls were chatting amiably about Philadelphia history. Victoria loved having someone to share ideas with. Time flew as they ambled through the neighborhood.

Just when Leslie and Victoria arrived at Sam's, a couple leaving the restaurant barged into them. There, arm-in-arm with a dark-haired woman about Leslie's age, was Dr. Speller.

"Excuse me, miss. I'm so sorry," he said before recognizing Victoria. The woman with him was taller and curvier than Victoria. Her eyes glistened like gemstones as she looked down on Victoria with disdain.

As if she had been punched in the solar plexus, Victoria couldn't breathe for a moment. She had imagined running into Dr. Speller many times, but never with someone like this. Dazed and dissociated, Victoria was overcome by dej vu. Even though it made no sense, she had felt this way before-less of a woman. Victoria fled to the ladies' room where she splashed herself into the present with cold water. "How could he! How could he!" she fumed out loud, subliminally aware that she was more disturbed by the woman than she was by Dr. Speller.

Although the conversation was convivial and she felt welcomed into a new social circle, Victoria struggled throughout the rest of dinner to keep from thinking about the sinister look in the dark-haired woman's eyes.

17.

After they had eaten, the crew gathered for drinks at Leslie's apartment, which was different from anything Victoria knew: garage-sale area rugs, Marimekko wall hangings, mismatched couch and armchair, and science journal reprints strewn on every surface. Someone pa.s.sed around a jug of Mateus, and everyone clinked different-sized plastic tumblers, toasting neurotransmitters and new friends. Two sips went straight to Victoria's head.

The group included an attractive man who had not been at dinner. Although he had tangles and tangles of blond hair, his friends called him Mr. Clean. His real name was Bucky Bleyer. He, too, was a researcher on the neuroscience track. It took Victoria the rest of the evening to realize Leslie was playing matchmaker for her and Bucky.

Later, Bucky offered to drive Victoria home. As they walked to his car, she grazed his jacket gesturing toward the houses along the way. "This block looks just like Society Hill," she said.

"That's my apartment over there," Bucky pointed across the street. "If it hadn't been for Leslie, I'd have stayed in L.A."

"You know her from California?"

"Didn't meet her 'til I moved here. She read one of my journal articles and sent me a note asking me to consider Penn's neuroscience program. She even found me an apartment on her block."

"Leslie helped me with biology," Victoria said. "If it weren't for her, I'd be slaving away right now memorizing the Krebs cycle."

"That's so Leslie. She's the earth mother who looks out for everyone. Want to see my place?"

"Sure," said Victoria, still quite tipsy. She liked the way Bucky paid attention to her.

Inside, Bucky pointed at a wall-mounted electrified bookshelf as he showed her around the apartment. "See this? I built it myself," he said with laugh. "What a f.u.c.king disaster. I crossed the wires, so when I plugged it in, sparks shot down my arm like lightning. I jumped as high as a kid in a haunted house."

Victoria laughed, too. She felt even warmer than before.