that’s how I got talked into a year of therapy.
When Dr. Frankenbaum escorted us back out into the waiting room, his next patients were already waiting for their appointment. The two men were sitting together, in the yellow plastic chairs, reading a book of poetry aloud and holding hands. I could barely contain the overwhelming excitement that was building in anticipation of my next session.
Part 3: Oh, Dear! The House Must Have Fallen On Her, Whatever Shall We Do?
I didn’t go back to my mom's house after that first therapy session. Instead, I did what any out-of-work twenty-six year old would do. I went back to my apartment and went to sleep. That’s all I really wanted to do for a very long time.
Eventually, though, my roommate and best friend, Haley Totino, returned from her Great Two-Week New York City Audition Adventure. Haley is an aspiring actress, just like I was. The difference between us is that Haley has a tremendous amount of talent. It's not that I don't think I've got talent; I just don't have nearly the talent that Haley does.
The problem is that Haley isn't attractive in the conventional movie star kind of way, and that really bothers her. She lacks the confidence in her talent that one needs to be a star. I imagine Haley as a kind of young Kathy Bates and nothing ever stopped her from making it in Hollywood.
"And just where have you been?" Haley asked, walking into my bedroom.
"I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the last week. What’s the matter, didn’t you pay the phone bill?"
"I was staying at my mom’s house," I said.
"Why?"
"There’s no easy way to say it, so I’ll just say it. My dad died last week."
"What?"
"My dad—"
"I heard what you said. That was an I-can’t-believe-what-I-just-heard kind of what not a please-repeat-what-you-just-said kind of what."
"Oh."
"What happened?"
"All I wanted to do was sleep and my mom made me go to this Mickey Rooney clone-doctor. He may actually be Mickey Rooney incognito, or maybe he’s like his Doppleganger or something. He’s really scary and his office smells like garlic and onions. He doesn’t even have any magazines in the waiting room, and his other patients are these gay guys, who read poetry to each other. I didn't know who Betsy Keebler Ross is so now I have to go to therapy twice a week."
"I mean, what happened to your dad?"
"It was that evil Buckstar's. Remember how I told you not to go there because they had this plan to take over the world by stealing all of our souls with their caffe lattes and mocha javas. Well, they got my dad."
"You did say you’re in therapy."
"Twice a week."
"That’s good, Dorothy."
"So, how was New York?" I asked. I was eager to hear the scoop on her auditions.
"Are you sure you want to hear about this? I mean, don’t you want to lie down or something?"
"No. I’ve been lying down for days. I’m on an up-swing. How was the Big Apple?"
Never having been out of the state of Florida, I was very anxious to hear her tales of Broadway.
"The Big Apple is big."
"And?"
"Noisy, dirty, smelly, crowded, expensive. It's every bad thing you've ever heard about it and more!"
"What about the auditions?"
"I had three. The first audition was for a one-liner on Law and Order. There were 50 people reading for the part. They gave it to a woman with a prosthetic arm. They said she looked the most like real life New York. The second role was for a new movie that just started filming. They said it was starring Gerard Butler and Betty White as star-crossed lovers or something like that. It sounded kind of weird to me. Anyway, I didn’t get that part either. The last one was for a tuna fish commercial. About 200 people showed up for the audition. How many different ways can you say, Don’t you wishy you had some Tuna Fishy?”
"Wow. That’s depressing."
"But I did get to see The Lion King."
"The Lion King? Are you kidding?"
"It was the only show on Broadway that wasn’t sold out."
That was even more depressing.
Part 4: I am Everywhere but to the Eyes of Common Mortals, I am Invisible
With Haley back in town, things were looking up. I wasn’t that tired anymore. I felt like dancing. I wandered into Haley’s room while she was unpacking. "Hey, Haley, feel like going to Y’bor tonight?"
"Do you feel like going?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Okay, then, let go."
I know what you’re thinking. How shallow is this girl, anyway? Didn’t her father just die like a week ago and now she wants to party? True enough. One thing I did learn in a year of therapy was that everyone deals with grief in his or her own way. Going dancing was much cheaper than going shopping and going dancing in Y'bor was its own kind of therapy. It was me trying to be normal at a very abnormal time in my life. Anyone who’s ever been to Tampa knows Y'bor City is the place to hang out. So the two of us put on our party clothes and headed downtown.
Our evening started at The JellyBelly Beach Club, one of our favorite theme bars. It was about 10:00 o'clock and the place was just starting to get packed. What I like most about The JellyBelly is the music they play, all classic rock, all the time. A little bit of Heaven on Earth. When we arrived at the club, we took in the scenery and set our sights on a couple of blond hotties. Ya-hoo!
Haley was usually the one to approach first, and I normally came in to close the deal. This is what happened:
Haley (to hottie number one): Hi. Wanna dance?
Hottie One (after a quick once-over): No.
Haley: Okay then.
And we made a hasty exit to the other side of the bar.
Once we were a safe distance away from the embarrassment of complete and utter rejection, Haley suggested that maybe we should just dance by ourselves for a while. I agreed. So we did.
The DJ played some awesome dance tracks and this T.C. (T.C.= too cute) guy approached us and started dancing. He stood about six feet tall with a great build. He was dressed in dark blue button-fly jeans and a blue and white polo shirt. His dark blond hair was cut short and he had a small hoop earring in his left ear. He wore round, wire-rimmed glasses and had the biggest smile I’d ever seen in my entire life. He put Brad Pitt to shame.
I was super-glad when he approached us but it was one of those awkward dance moments when you’re not really sure if the person, who just walked up is really dancing with you or just dancing near you. When the song stopped, he said, "Hey, thanks for the dance," and that mystery was cleared up.
When the DJ decided to take a break, the T.C. guy started talking. "So, you come here a lot?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"I just moved here a few months ago from Seattle."
"How do you like it?"
"It’s a lot different but I dig the beaches."
"Me, too."
"My name’s Lahrs."
"I’m Dorothy."
"Like The Wizard of Oz."
"My mom was a big fan of the movie."
"That’s cool. You know, they