Intensive Therapy Part 4

"I didn't mean it like that, Martin," Victoria said. "But you have no idea what's going through my mind. I went through a terrible time in college. A total nightmare. I thought it was over. The Arrestia case reminds me of Bleak House, the d.i.c.kens novel. A property dispute destroyed a family and drained the estate. One of the heirs couldn't cope. He killed himself. I grew up in a bleak house. I can't live in one again."

"I remember that book."

"That book changed my life."

"The girl's guardian was a real mensch. His name is on the tip of my tongue."

"John Jarndyce. The case was Jarndyce versus Jarndyce. I remember it like yesterday."

9.

Monday, October 12, 1981

Victoria's cla.s.s before therapy on Mondays was nineteenth-century British literature. They were reading Charles d.i.c.kens's Bleak House, a story that gripped Victoria as if the novel had been written about her.

Her preoccupation with tall buildings had not recurred since the first session, but she had descended into a pervasive sadness. She found solace in talking about it to Dr. Speller, but her mood remained black.

"Why am I so sad?" she began that day's session.

"You're mourning," the doctor replied.

"For whom? For what?"

"I'm not sure. Why not do what we always do? Let your thoughts come freely and say whatever comes to mind. We'll figure it out."

"I never told you how Bleak House ended," Victoria said. "Esther's guardian considered marrying her but stepped aside to let her marry a das.h.i.+ng physician who had loved her for years. Because of her smallpox scars, Esther believed no man would ever want her. But in the end, her guardian encouraged the relations.h.i.+p between the younger people and outfitted a cozy cottage for them."

Dr. Speller opened his file cabinet's bottom drawer to prop his feet on.

She continued, "The night I finished it, I dreamed about the book. I didn't want it to end. In my dream, I was at a wedding on a spring day at a park. I a.s.sume it was Esther's. A string quartet was playing. People were dancing. I looked all over, but I couldn't find the bride. I wanted to see her face, to see how she felt about the groom.

"My parents were there. A bartender served drinks to my father, who was conversing animatedly with someone. Lorraine was in another group. I felt shunned, like they were ashamed to introduce me. Grandma was there, too, carrying a gold necklace for the bride. I followed her, hoping she would leave it where I could pick it up.

"When I tried to dance, my head spun, and I felt nauseous. A man talked with me. He made me feel better.

"In the dream, I thought, 'This can't be my family's wedding, because we don't have that many relatives.' It felt like the hosts had invited me as an afterthought, not because they really wanted me. I woke up sad, very sad." Victoria eyes welled with tears. "How long will I feel like this? It seems like it's gone on forever."

"Perhaps your dream can explain your feelings," Dr. Speller said. "Let's start with the park. Are there any thoughts, memories, daydreams, or a.s.sociations with it?"

"It reminds me of Fairmont Park in the spring. I hate being cooped up all winter, so I go walking in the park the first weekend I can. I visit Grandma Jeanine. She lives on Ben Franklin Parkway near Boathouse Row. I usually go by myself, but I always wish I had company. Talking about it makes me sad and lonely."

"It's a memory about loneliness."

Victoria reached for a tissue. "Usually it's chilly, and after a bad winter, there are grayish mounds of snow that won't melt completely until the spring thaw, until the crocuses bloom. I love flowers. When I have my own home, I want lots of flowers. It looks like the gra.s.s won't ever start growing. The ground is muddy, and my feet sink in."

"Was the park in your dream sad?"

"No, it was warmer, brighter. The gra.s.s had turned green. There was a warm breeze. That's right! I must have been wearing the clothes I got in Florence-Lorraine hated everything I chose. Shopping with her was torture.

"I just thought of something. Remember that leather jacket? Lorraine bought it for me the morning we climbed the Duomo-at a fancy leather-goods store across from the Medici Palace. Florence was warm that day; I remember beads of sweat on my forehead, like in my dream.

"The more clothes we tried on, the more excited Lorraine became. She didn't care how much things cost, which I knew would make my father mad. We picked two things for me: a short leather jacket, and a mid-calf leather skirt. In the wedding dream, I must have been wearing them. Lorraine and I finished shopping early that afternoon."

"Like in the dream?"

Victoria nodded. "On the way to the checkout-and this really happened-I saw a coat I thought Grandma would like, but when I mentioned getting her a present, my mother's face contorted with rage."

"Do you know why?" Dr. Speller asked.

"When Jeanine was younger, she ran the fine jewelry department at John Wanamaker's. Her father was a goldsmith. Lorraine always maintained that Jeanine took the job to get away from her, but she just wanted her own life."

"As for your mother's anger about getting your grandmother a gift?"

"It ruined the moment. When we tried on clothes, Lorraine sparkled like a diamond, but then her whole persona changed. When the bill came, she looked at me like I was a pig. When we rejoined my father, she blamed the high cost on me, saying I had demanded she buy the clothes. Both my parents barely spoke to me that afternoon. It makes my blood boil to think about it."

"You felt angry at them."

"Angry? I was furious. But also confused, very confused. I kept asking myself what I did wrong. I must have done something wrong. All I wanted to do was disappear." She went silent. A moment later, she blinked.

"Did something just happen, Victoria?" Dr. Speller asked.

"That explains it," she said. "I can't believe it took me this long to see."

"To see what?"

"How I felt at the top of the Duomo-that's when my fears about tall buildings began. Thinking about it makes me nauseous, like I'm really sick."

"That's what happens when you come in touch with powerful feelings. Trust me. You'll feel better when you say it out loud."

"I felt how easy it would be to climb over the stone wall of the observation deck and disappear. That began all those bad thoughts."

"They enraged you," Dr. Speller said. "They pushed you over the edge, metaphorically speaking."

Stunned by his interpretation, Victoria couldn't speak. "How come I never looked at it that way?" she said several moments later.

"Because you needed to understand yourself better. That's what we're doing here. You're searching for yourself-like the bride you can't find-at someone else's party, not yours."

"Who would want to come to mine? I don't know anybody I feel that close to."

"That needs to change."

"I liked what you just said about the dream. It makes me look at things differently. I felt that way the first time I told you about Esther's scarred face. Right then, I felt my childhood ending. Will I ever stop being so sad?"

"Does anything in your dream resonate with the sad feeling?"

"The yearning to find the bride. It feels like heartbreak."

"I think your heartbreak comes from looking for love in the wrong place." Dr. Speller paused, then added, "One thing's for sure."

"What's that?"

"You won't find it in Abington."

"You're right about that. Everything feels so up in the air. I don't know where I belong anymore."

"I know where you belong," Dr. Speller said. "You belong here, in therapy."

10.

Monday, November 2, 1981

On the first Monday in November, Victoria awoke in a good mood from a dream she could not remember. One thing was certain; her sadness had lifted.

Working on dreams in therapy had become enjoyable with Dr. Speller as a trusted ally. I have to remember that dream. I want to tell him, Victoria said to herself. But the harder she tried, the more it eluded her, like grasping for the vapor she exhaled on crisp mornings.

Carol Hanc.o.c.k, her dormitory suitemate, noticed the change immediately. "Well, well, you're all smiles this morning," she said. "Most mornings, you drag yourself around like the boy in Peanuts with a cloud over his head."

"It's that bad?"

"'Fraid so," Carol said. "Are you mad at me? You've been avoiding me."

Victoria felt it was time to say what was on her mind, even though it might upset Carol. That, Victoria had learned in therapy. "The truth is that I think I'm disappointing you because I don't come along when you invite me to mixers and fraternity parties. I know you're trying to include me, but the boys are so infantile-bragging about Daddy's Pep Boys franchises and what they're going to do after graduation. They really turn me off. And they ply me with alcohol and marijuana-which makes me nauseous-and try to get me in the sack. Not that I don't want to sleep with a man. I'm no prude. I think about s.e.x as much anyone, probably more. But I want someone older, someone who knows what he's doing. I like that you care about me and want me to have friends, but I don't want to be part of that scene."

"I was just trying to be a big sister," Carol said.

"I know, but it can't depend on me doing what you want. I've had a lifetime of that. My mother is forever telling me what to think and how to act. I can't do that anymore, Carol. I hope you still want to be my friend," Victoria said as if she were facing an executioner.

"Are you out of your mind? Of course I want to be friends! My sister went here, and she showed me how to have a good time at Penn. I wanted to do that for you. I'm glad you told me. You're such a good person, Victoria. We'll always be friends. Besides," Carol confessed, "you're not the first person who ever said I'm too pushy."

They laughed and hugged. It was the first time Victoria had embraced a friend so affectionately, which brought the previous night's dream so close to mind she could almost taste it.

Bursting with pride, Victoria skipped down the hall toward room 921 that afternoon. "You're going to be happy to hear what I did today," she told Dr. Speller. "Something I've never done before."

He returned her smile. "Terrific. Let's hear it."

"I had an honest talk with my roommate. It was about something stupid. I knew she was coming from a good place, but I didn't want to keep up an act. So, I told her how I felt."

"Good for you! What was the 'something stupid'?"

"She wanted me to go to parties with her, and I felt obligated, because I was afraid she wouldn't like me if I said no thanks. It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud."

"Ridiculous?"

"My mother is always saying how ridiculous I am."

"Always?"

"Well, maybe not always, but often enough that I don't know what to expect from her. You can't believe how hot and cold she blows. Sometimes, she's in a fabulous mood with me; other times she dismisses me with a 'You're being ridiculous' that makes me feel like two cents."

"Intermittent reward and punishment," Dr. Speller said. "It's the worst."

"Huh?"

"Basic psychology. Learning theory: conditioning, reward, reinforcement, punishment. Unpredictability is the worst. Intermittent reinforcement, it's called. Someday you'll take the course."

"You know I hate to say it, but predictable is boring," Victoria admitted.

"That is a problem. What's that about?"

"It must have to do with how my mother and I interact. That's a whole issue in itself. We should get to it sometime, just not now. There's a dream I wanted to tell you. It has to be important, because I woke up smiling, and my mood's better. I've been close to remembering it all day."

"You didn't write it down?"

"No. I woke up in such a good mood all I wanted to do was savor the feeling."

"Did the dream have to do with eating?"

"That's amazing. I just remembered it. How do you do that? It's like you can read my mind."

"All I'm doing is connecting the dots. You used the word, 'savor,' which goes along with tasty food."

"In the dream, I was with my mother at the supermarket where we always shopped when I was little. There were these sugar cookies I loved, but the only way she bought them was if I snuck a package into the shopping cart when she wasn't looking. I told you she's always had a thing about how I look. Back then-it must have been before p.u.b.erty because I didn't thin out until after I got my period-I must have looked chubby to her. I suppose she didn't want me getting any fatter. At the checkout line, she always gave me a dirty look when she found the cookies, but she never said 'No.' I'm sure she didn't want the cas.h.i.+er thinking, 'What kind of mother wouldn't buy her daughter what she wants?'

"So, in the dream, Lorraine and I became separated, and then it switched to me being my real age, shopping for my own food; that meant I could get exactly what I want, which felt so liberating." Victoria tossed her head back and started to blush. "Here's the funny part. I went to a bakery, and you were there."